#and were ending it on a schmoopy note

[roppiepop]

JayTim Week Day 7: Forced Vacation or Night Sky/

Constellations or Deserted Island/Stranded

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 5 | Day 6

[aurora-astra]

Authors note:

HIIIII so before you read it must be known, this really cool person @havingarebelliousstage reached out to me to do a fic trade!!! (I’ve never done one before so I thank them for their patience lol) I thought I would mention it because I was very hyped when he asked, so yah 👍 enjoy!

Nightly patrol was something that Batman had installed ages ago, and yet almost everyone was out this particular night. [hero-name] and Nightwing were assigned to the majority of Gotham, Batman decided to do some solo things but like always he was secretive about it. The whole time the iconic pair was out, Nightwing was pestering [hero-name] over coms, nothing they couldn’t ignore, just a cocky nuisance.

“Hey love bug,” he giggled to himself as he taunted his lover. Y/n could almost hear the pleased smirk as they groaned from their perch on a small buildings roof.

“I swear to God, Dick, if some criminal slips by me I’m blaming you,” they complained, trying to focus on the street below. They could almost hear him coming up with another name on the spot as soon as they said that.

“You know you like it,” he simply replied. The two went quiet, [hero-name] actually searching for criminals and Nightwing thinking of his next dumb nickname to call them.

[hero-name] spotted a robbery going on in a small convenience store across the street. They rushed to the spot, and grunted as they disarmed the robber. Nightwing took this as his opportunity, calling to them saying “need any help honey bunches?” At this, [hero-name] almost dropped their grip on the criminal, but as they urged the cashier to call the police, they cursed under their breath so only Nightwing could hear, or so they hoped.

When the pair were alone on coms once again, [hero-name] was expecting a smug nickname to come from their lover. As expected, Nightwing’s voice rang through the com, “from what I heard, you handled that well… snookums.”

[hero-name] audibly groaned from embarrassment. “You are an absolute nerd,” they protested, but the pair broke into a fit of small giggles anyways.

“Hm well I will be back, bubba, just don’t cause too much trouble while I’m taking care of this person,” Nightwing commented, using a rather tame pet name this time around.

[hero-name] just shook their head, and continued to patrol the streets. This night seemed calm for Gotham, a crime-ridden city that was filled with unfortunate citizens. Of course, there was almost no such thing as a city without crime but there was something different about Gotham. [hero-name] was almost worried by how quiet it was, but they decided to let it slip their mind as they slithered from alley to alley.

Nightwing huffed on coms, presumably having taken care of the issue, and suggested they meet on a certain street as their patrol was ending.

They both arrived at almost the same time, and greeted each other with a brisk hug, much to [hero-name’s] dismay. They discussed their patrol that night, and how quiet it was, leading to a comfortable silence as the two walked and surveyed the street.

[hero-name] countered the silence, “well I say it’s time to head in… schmoopy. Batman probably won’t be happy if we aren’t back sometime soon.”

[hero-name’s] words effectively shut Nightwing down. As much as he loved to tease them beyond bear with ridiculous pet names, he never expected them to retaliate like this. Somehow, this only boosted his ego.

He smirked, and turned to face y/n, “what did you call me?”

“You heard me.”

“What if I didn’t?” He spoke as he pulled them into an alley to wrap his arms around their waist, “could you repeat yourself?”

y/n scowled at Dick, wishing they hadn’t given in to their lover’s silly game. They let out an exasperated breath. “I called you a pet name, like the ones you always call me. Do we have a problem?” They joked as their hands found their way to his shoulders.

“Hmm, I don’t think so, babes,” he grinned and relished in y/n’s touch.

“All jokes aside, we do really need to get back,” they reminded him, only after a quick and refreshing kiss.

As much as Dick wanted to enjoy their company for longer, he knew they were right.

They hopped from roof to street to roof all the way back to the mansion, and after peeling off the hero suits and bidding goodnight to the other members of the house, y/n and Dick shared a meal and slipped into bed. And as they admired their lovers sleepy face, y/n secretly wished that patrol could have lasted forever.

End notes:

Heyy thanks for reading!!! I tried my best to make this a bit longer of a fic so I hope you all liked it :)) thanks again for doing the fic trade, @havingarebelliousstage !!! I had so much fun writing this. To anyone reading, please make sure to read their fic that they wrote for me (it’s about Jason Todd and I am throughly excited). Farewell 🤭

[gmariam321]

Snow days are awesome for reading fanfic. It's also funny how many of my author's notes mention writing on snow days! I haven't written for over a year, haven't written for TW since before the pandemic. But I've been reading old stories and some of them were so good, so fun (also kind of schmoopy and repetitive but such was my style.) It sort of makes me want to try writing again, see if I can't come up with just one more way to bring Ianto back, give Jack and Ianto one more happy ending. Something I haven't done, something new and exciting. I hear their voices so clearly, and writing TW dialogue is so much fun. So maybe I'll see if an idea sparks, though I have not kept up with Big Finish canon or even DW, and I'd definitely have to review my Briticisms and Cardiff geography. We used to call story ideas plot bunnies. So maybe if there are more snow days a plot bunny will appear in my snowy garden...😊

[mthofferings]

ZenaidaMacrouras1

See ZenaidaMacrouras1’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Tumblr: ZenaidaMacrouras1 Discord: zenaidamacrouras

Preferred organizations: - Anything from the list of approved organizations

Will create works that contain: AUs of all sorts, identity based fics like engineer, artist, musician, circus performer, civil rights lawyer, whatever. Fluff with a bit (or a lot) of angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-lovers, and they were roommates, there was only one bed, kidfic, smut, comic book style action and adventure

Will not create works that contain: Historical fiction that needs to be accurate, unhappy ending, dark!characters, daddy kink, a/b/o, HTP, most kinks (ok with smut, just don’t tend to be good at writing kink focused smut), strictly adheres to canon (I'm ok with canon elements, but not good at painstaking accuracy to canon) I am not interested in writing abuse or toxic relationships or underage pairings. Threesomes and polyamory are not preferred as part of the main storyline.

  -- Fic or Other Writing --

Auction ID: 1082

Will create works for the following relationships: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers - Any Universe Valkyrie-centric - Any Universe Kate Bishop & Lucky - Any Universe Yelena Belova/Kate Bishop - Any Universe Yelena Belova-centric - Any Universe

Work Description: I am offering a fic of around 5-10,000 words. I expect to have that fic done in the first half of 2024 barring any unexpected crises. It may grow into something enormous, because my fics often do, and I will factor word count into final bidding amount (higher bid likely = longer story). Most of my work is AU and tends to have a character driven romance arc with some smutty scenes, I am open to canon and canon-adjacent as well as an element of action adventure, fantasy or science fiction. My favorite is Stucky, but happy to hear different ships as long as I feel like I can capture that character’s voice and that I can imagine the pairing happy and healthy (if only for a one night stand). I value diversity and am happy to answer questions prior to bidding about any identity, pairing, disability, etc.

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

-- Beta Service --

Auction ID: 2046

Will create works for the following relationships: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers - Any Universe Valkyrie-centric - Any Universe Steve Rogers-centric - Any Universe Kate Bishop-centric - Any Universe Avengers fandom any gen - Any Universe

Work Description: I am willing to work with pieces up to around 100k, a little more is fine, or 2-3 shorter pieces. Higher bid can be related to more work I can beta, or closer editing work/more rounds of edits, etc. My betaing skills include SPaG, world building, smut writing, characterization, dialogue, plot, pacing, some sensitivity reading for diversity as well as people with disabilities, soundboarding and fact checking for a number of skills. Note: I enjoy writing smut, though not kink, and am not great at writing or editing kink. However, if you are looking to hone your schmoopy, romantic, verbal consent smut writing skills, this is something I have spent a great deal of time thinking about. Have any other questions, reach out to me!

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? No - I'd rather not be bid on by pods

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

[purplehanfu]

KinnPorsche: Episode 8

notes: Spoilers! Ep 07 /// TOC /// Ep 09

In this episode: omg they made it to a bed. But don't worry- our boys still find time to grind up on some plate glass.

Let Me Butter Your Bread

Kinn and Porsche's physical relationship is progressing nicely. They can't get enough of each other. We see them romantically eating toast in bed together (ugh so many crumbs)- the bread is soft, but everything else is hard. 

I hope the bread company appreciates all the positive associations this drama is creating for their product.

Later Porsche plays crotch footsie in a meeting:

And of course no glass window is safe from these two:

Windex, my beloved

But Porsche is worried. He's never been in a romantic relationship with a man before. He heads to the bar where he used to work and asks Yok for advice. Yok tells him not to worry that Kinn is a man:

Yok also reminds him that a relationship is more than just sex: 

A couple should spend time together- for example going on dates. Porsche muses that in the past most of his "dates" began and ended in the backroom of the bar. Yok gives him some wholesome ideas for outings- coffee bars, cafes and the park. I think we can see where this is going.

Gay for the 'Gram

A few days later, Kinn and Porsche put on normal people disguises and go to a café. 

They are play acting what they think normies do on dates- polaroid selfies, pictures of the food, etc. 

Interestingly, the free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky Porsche is the one who is nervous about holding hands in public and the quiet, reserved Kinn is the one who doesn't care who sees them. They go to a park that evening and Porsche admits that today was the first date of his life. Kinn gives Porsche a phone with only his number in it and says he's had a wonderful day.

On the way home, Porsche sees a man glaring at him on the path ahead and tells Kinn, but Kinn doesn't see the man. 

Kinn and Porsche go home and continue to be schmoopy as they evade the bodyguards on patrol. They end up hiding in the pool and kissing underwater.

“You taste like chlorine”

Kim and Chay Update

Kim is still investigating Porsche, and he sends Big on a mission to find out how Porsche's parents died.

They were Gatsby’d

Why the interest in Porsche, asks Big.

We call that wincest

This week it's Chay's turn to show up unannounced and he plays Kim a ballad he's written. Kim is charmed knowing the song is about him, but also feels guilty because he's using Chay to get info about his family.

Secret Agents Ostrich and Tailorbird

The next day, Porsche sees the glaring man again and tries to tell Pete, who doesn't see him. They assume the man is after Kinn. Porsche sketches the man but fails to capture his likeness: 

Pete suggests that maybe the man is an old flame of Kinn's. The two decide to look through a phone in the office that has all of his past boyfriends' contact info on it. Pete (codename: tailorbird) and Porsche (codename: ostrich) head to the office and find the phone. 

Ostrich laughs at the vast quantity of exes that Kinn has racked up.

Suddenly tailorbird sounds the alarm. Kinn (codename: black eagle) is about to discover them! Porsche manages to get the phone back but in the process knocks over a picture frame and dislodges another secret photo hidden in the back. He pockets the image. Back in their room, Porsche shows Pete the photo and says that's the guy he saw. 

Pete says it can't be- the picture is of Kinn's deceased boyfriend Tawan. Porsche is now convinced he is dealing with a ghost.

The Ghost and Mr. Chicken

The next day, Porsche goes to a Buddhist monk to find out how to remove the ghost (all he needs to do is put a line of salt in front of his door and burn some pine resin, but maybe that only works in Appalachia). The monk has something that just might work. 

Cut back to Bodyguard HQ. Porsche is terrified of being alone but is also terrified at movie night with Tankhun because all the movies are scary. 

He is kicked out for being disruptive and so goes back to his room. Alone. The lamp in the room starts to flicker and Porsche hears his name being called. Convinced he is being haunted, Porsche reaches for his divine phallus (the sculpture, not his own junk). He creeps to the source of the whispers, opens the door and throws it at the ghost who is actually just Kinn. 

Kinn has amazing reflexes and very strong teeth

The two settle down with some whiskey and Kinn tells Porsche about Tawan. They met in college and fell in love but Tawan cheated on him and sold Kinn's family info to the mafia, so Kinn had to dust him. The next day, Kinn and Porsche visit the Buddhist monk together. 

Just as they are being blessed, a man staggers out into the open and collapses.

  Guess who it is.

Ep 7 /// TOC /// Ep 9

Master list of all recaps

[storm-and-starlight]

thoughts abt the way fandom approaches eskel? im curious owo (hadn't played any of the games yet, and just went through half of the first book lol)

Okay, so I'm going to preface this by stating that this is... pretty deeply connected to a really rough patch in my life, so if I get overly negative here, it's probably because of that and I apologize. (Also because of this, I don't want to turn this into a discussion about Eskel; it'd just end up leading back into some bad places.)

Warning for fanon!Eskel criticism under the cut.

So basically all of this is my personal opinion -- I'm trying to keep direct criticism out of this as much as possible.

I guess it all boils down to the fact that I personally prefer characters with a bit more bite to them -- more anger, more sarcasm, more rough inter-character interactions, more trauma, etc. Eskel (or at least, my experience of fanon!Eskel) has absolutely none of that. He's generally portrayed as Nice and Soft and Kind, the Best Witcher and the Kindest, and generally Better than Geralt in Every Way, and it feels just... reductive? Like there's no depth to his character at all -- he's just there to be kind and polite and interchangeable. His entire personality is The Nice One, except that doesn't feel like a personality at all. Generally the only character conflict you get is "I feel like a monster because of the facial scarring" and that feels overdone, to the point where I don't even care anymore. Like... generically nice, sweet guy with self-esteem issues who feels like a monster because of cosmetic issues but who gets lovingly affirmed all the time and told he's perfect is just... not the kind of story I want to read. I prefer broken characters who rub each other the wrong way who try to find a way to fit together anyways, not... schmoopy fluff. (no shame if that's your favorite kind of fic, it's just not for me.)

And then there's Lil' Bleater. There was a point in this fandom where every single Eskel in every single fic I could find was just All About Goats All The Time. If he was there, so was Lil' Bleater. He was the Nice Goat Man and that was it. I could barely find fics where he seemed to have any other character trait beyond Likes Goats! It got... tiring, to say the least. Like... I'm ambivalent on the whole "big tough guy is actually super sweet and likes small animals" trope as a whole, but it was just so overdone that I ended up hating the goat. (I'm back to ambivalent, in case you were wondering lmao.)

There's also the way the fandom got... really pissed that he was a side character? Which I get, you want more of your faves, but he was a side character in the books, he's a side character in the games, he plays no major role in the plot of the books (in fact, the hansa is the most important found family in the series, instead of the witchers -- they show up for like the first half of Blood of Elves and never again) -- why are people getting so angry that he doesn't appear more?

Also, a side note, but Geralt is the character I identify the most with and feel the most strongly about, and having Eskel be more or less held up as the better version of him hurts. It's irrational, but it does.

Once again, I'm not really interested in discussing this, or in being sent recs for fandom content about Eskel -- I'm attempting to curate my own experience and the best way to do that for me is largely to just avoid him entirely. I don't want to yuck anyone's yum, which is why I try to keep this stuff off my blog, but like... there they are, those are my opinions.

TL;DR, I deeply dislike the way that Eskel ended up being portrayed in fandom and fanon as the perfect nice witcher who can do no wrong but still hates himself because of the facial scars and who is a huge burly man who is Softe and likes animals and especially goats and who is the Best Witcher -- it goes squarely against what I enjoy in character creation in stories, and is also so overused that I've moved past ambivalence to hate.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.1 (BAON)

Summary:  Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone. But the day after being kidnapped? Not so much.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Notes:  Time to deal with the aftermath of Just Swimmingly! Good luck, boys...

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone.

Even on the weekends, Edge wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when there were things he could be doing. It always amazed Stretch a little that Edge could sit at a desk for hours every day; that endless energy of his was similar to Papyrus’s, only more contained, banked like the coals of a campfire and ready to burst into flame whenever it was needed. It tended to escape him through his hands, whether he was typing or kneading bread dough, or touching Stretch with care that bordered on reverence. Sure, his injured leg might’ve slowed Edge down a little on the jogging front but it sure wasn’t stopping him anywhere else, his hands were still perfectly fine and he was putting both of them to good use whenever he could.

Which did not include lounging around in bed.

So, yeah, waking up alone was pretty much the norm. What he hadn’t expected was for it would be the norm today. Today, of all days, after everything that happened last night, the drugging, the kidnapping, the Judge—

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, thanks, Stretch’s mind was all full up and that shit could wait. What he was focused on right now was waking up alone in the bed he shared with his husband with the sheets on the other side already cool to the touch.

Stretch pulled his hand back from Edge’s side and rolled over on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the dimness and trying not to feel the aching hurt settling inside him. The last he remembered the two of them had been sleeping on the sofa, so that meant at some point Edge carried him upstairs and left him here. Not really a surprise that Edge didn’t stay, but it sure was a disappointment. He’d been expecting…well. Something else, for sure.

The bedroom had room darkening curtains, a thoughtful addition Edge put into place before Stretch even moved in, ensuring that he got plenty of sleep without the sun poking its way in before he was ready for it. Even they could only do so much, a narrow beam of brightness was coming around the sides and yeah, he was being stupid right about now. It was probably the middle of the afternoon, what, was Edge supposed to lay here all day, watching like a creeper while waiting for him to wake up? Sure, some overprotective cuddling and maybe a good handful of unreasonable demands for him to stay safe at home would have been nice, but it wasn’t exactly fair of him to expect it, now was it. If he wanted schmoopy cuddles, he’d just have to go out and harvest his own.

Stretch kicked off the blankets long enough to spread out, joints popping luxuriously as he groaned, and then yanked them back up before the chill of the air conditioning could make him shiver. He reached for his phone only to belatedly remember it was missing in action. There weren’t any other electronics in the room with a clock in them, Edge liked the bedroom to be dark as a grave, and damn, that was a thought to have today.

Anyway, there wasn’t really a good way to tell the time without his phone. At a guess, it was at least past noon, probably a lot later considering they went to bed after sunrise.

Welp, if his day was beginning, he needed his morning coffee to function even in the afternoon.

He decided to get dressed instead of going down in only his bathrobe, burying himself in the familiar comfort of one of his extra-worn hoodies. It smelled like the laundry detergent Edge preferred, strong and fresh, different than the one Blue used. Stretch paused as he was pulling it on, tucked inside the body of it like a cotton womb as he breathed in the clean fabric scent. He was sweating a little by the time he pulled it down over his skull, absently wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he dug out a pair of pants and some comfy socks.

Normally he’d grab a pair of his own, he had scads of ‘em, socks with pictures of chickens or pizza, lace ruffles at the cuffs or rainbow ones that pulled all the way up over his bony knees. Whatever caught his fancy ended up in his overflowing sock drawer, he loved them, even if pairing them all at laundry time was a bitch. This time, he took a pair from Edge’s side of the closet, plain white crew socks, the same as he wore with his motorcycle boots and Stretch paused briefly, remembering the clothes he’d been wearing last night. They’d been Edge’s, too, and now they were trash. Or more likely, they were evidence, there was a zero percent chance that Red’s team hadn’t found them, at least one tracker had to have been hidden on them somewhere and wasn’t that suspicious, that those assholes thought to strip them away and send them into the dumpster.

Even if Red were willing to give them back, something that was probably right below never on the scale of probability, Stretch didn’t think he’d want to see them again. Fuckers ruined them, ruined everything they’d touched, and they deserved what was coming their way, deserved retribution and—

Stretch firmly shook that thought away before it could hit more than a simmer and went back into the bedroom. He went to the window and pushed the curtains back, turning the narrow beam of sunlight into a flood. It illuminated the contents of the bedroom, the bed filled with rumpled blankets, the dresser with his zombie hand ring holder, Edge’s little collection of cologne bottles and the fancy box where he kept his cuff links, bathing it all in a haloed light.

On one wall was a full-length mirror, one that Stretch rarely used. He used it now, standing in front of it to look at himself. Too tall, skinny bones hidden under an oversized orange sweatshirt with swirls of black covering it like smoke, and a pair of plain white socks still clenched in one hand. There were rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets, the light of his magic in his joints dimmer, darker. He needed to eat, that was all. Some food and coffee would go a long way to getting him back on the right path.

He sat on the bed to pull on the socks and when he was done, he wiggled his toes, watching them waggle beneath the shield of plain white cotton. Then he headed on downstairs. Wearing something of Edge’s was nice enough but he was kind of looking forward to getting up close and personal with the man himself.

From the fragrant smell filling the living room, he had a pretty good guess where Edge disappeared to.

When he went into the kitchen, he could see the oven was on, something rich and yeasty baking away. Typical, Edge liked to make bread when he was stressed, kneading the dough with a fierceness usually reserved for…actually, Edge did everything with a sort of fierceness, didn’t he, and it was always worth watching.

That show was already over. Edge was at the sink washing dishes, a few damp patches showing on the front of his apron. His cane was leaning against the counter, too far away to be useful, but at least he was wearing his leg brace, a small favor but Stretch would take it.

Edge looked over his shoulder the second the door opened, no pretending not to hear it so Stretch could ‘sneak’ up on him, not today. “You’re finally up.”

His voice was always on the rough side and that gravely timbre always sent a tingly thrill up Stretch’s spine. Today it was rougher than normal, brambles and thorns hiding velvet underneath.

“mostly.” And he wasn’t going to complain about Edge being gone when he woke up, he wasn’t, nope, not even a little— “couldn’t sleep in even a little, babe? i stay tucked in a few hours late and you had to get down here to get your betty crocker on.”

It sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. A strange expression crossed Edge’s face, almost wounded, and that went a long way towards soothing his own lingering hurt. Stretch was already regretting opening his stupid mouth when Edge said, “Love, you’ve been sleeping more than a few hours. You slept around the clock, it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday. It’d been ass o’clock in the morning on Tuesday when he’d gone to bed, no wonder he was so fucking hungry.

“oh, shit, really?” Stretch blurted, his stupid mouth wasn’t done having its way, “haven’t done that since i don’t even know. guess i can’t blame you for not hanging around in bed.”

“You can, but I hope I can be quickly forgiven.” Edge stripped off his apron, tossing it carelessly on the counter and ignoring as it fell instead to the floor as he stepped around the kitchen island to gather Stretch into his arms. Yeah, okay, Stretch was a dick for ass-of-u-and-me-ing that Edge ditched him to hit up the cookbooks, but he was still going to take advantage of every hug Edge wanted to give him. He buried his face into Edge’s clavicle, breathing in the smell of his soap, the spiciness of his magic, hyperaware that he probably stank of old sweat and too much sleep. Edge didn’t seem to mind; his arms were strong around him, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a small, contented little sound as the embrace he’d been craving since he first woke up finally became a reality.

Edge made a sound of his own, low and soothing, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“i’m not sure,” Stretch admitted. Too much had happened and most of it not yet properly assimilated. Mostly what he felt was still tired, the sticky brain-fog surrounding him that came with simultaneously too much and not enough sleep.

Edge nodded, his pointy chin digging lightly into the top of Stretch’s skull. "That’s fair.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Love, my brother wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

That made his soul clench in his chest, his gnawing hunger fading. There was no putting it off, Stretch knew that, no room for negotiations when it came to giving out the details to Embassy Security. Wanted was a polite euphemism for needed and right now. He was lucky to have gotten off as long as he could, luckier still that Red would probably talk to him here rather than dragging him downtown, and still, there was a half-hearted urge to flee, to hide somewhere until they gave up and let him start working on forgetting that it ever happened.

Stretch shoved that urge down hard, until it was only a distant echo. If there was one thing therapy taught him, it was that eventually you’d have to face things if you wanted to get over it, and it was a hell of a lot better when it was on your own terms rather than having the ghouls tumble out of mental closets to haunt your dreams at night.

"yeah, okay,” Stretch said determinedly, “go ahead and call him."

Edge drew back enough to look at him, his deep crimson of his eye lights searching over Stretch’s face and that glance in the mirror earlier made Stretch pretty sure of what he was seeing. He wondered if Edge was contemplating a little fleeing of his own, maybe a gentler version of kidnapping where he hid Stretch away from the world until he was ready to let him loose again. Whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t enough for him to lean into spousal abduction. Edge only nodded a little, accepting, reaching up to cup Stretch’s face between his hands as he took a suspiciously tender kiss.

"Call him?" Edge said when he drew back, faintly amused. "I was simply warning you that he'll likely be here soon."

He'd barely finished the sentence before there was a staccato rap on the front door.

Okay, yeah, time to face the music, not literally and wasn’t that a shame because Red wasn’t a half-bad singer, a little armchair karaoke might make this more bearable. Stretch wriggled loose and was halfway to the door before Edge could limp his way out of the kitchen, yanking it open without looking through the peephole.

Red was standing on the other side of it, hulking on their front porch and only slightly livelier than a typical gargoyle. Him knocking at all was unusual, even wrong. Red tended to announce himself by bursting through the front door and even almost catching them a couple times in flagrante del-dick-to hadn’t slowed him down. There was certain unmistakable caution in the hunch of his shoulders this time, his hands tucked unthreateningly into his pockets as if Red was unsure of his welcome and all Stretch could feel was a weary sort of grief.

As if he didn’t know Red, long before all this, knew him way down deep to the bone. Nothing the Judge showed him in that brief glance was anything like a surprise.

The Judge. Yeah, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t run away from it, either, not anymore than the assholes last night could.

It’d been years but apparently being a Judge was like riding a really fucked-up bike; you never really forgot no matter how much you tried. The heat of it in your soul, not like the volcanic burn of LV, no, this was an unfathomably icy fire that surged and flowed through to chill every limb, every bone, churning its way upward into your frostbitten skull to force its way out through your eye socket as it filled you…him. Filled him with unbearable knowledge that he’d never wanted and an overwhelming, endless power that he despised using.

For the briefest of seconds in that warehouse, he’d been ready to let it loose, to let the Judgment come boiling out like it had so many times before. Until Jeff stopped him. Reeled him back in with a single word.

Don’t.

(Jeff’s sins, such innocent little transgressions; stealing a piece of candy from a store as a child, lying to parents who would only use the truth against him. Filled with the soft green glow of a compassionate soul, filled with gentle kindness. No judgement.)

Then it was like trying to stuff all-mighty toothpaste back into an otherworldly tube and the flash-bang of seeing Red as he came up the stairs hadn’t helped.

(red didn’t kill that man, no, only persuaded him to do it himself, don’t gotta make it look like a suicide if it already is, saves time, evil fuck threatened red’s whole family, his entire life, and red talked to him quietly for hours, watched the tears and snot run down his face pitilessly as his own Judge recited a horrifying list of sins that did not start with that attack on the bus)

Stretch blinked that memory away and looked down into Red’s eye lights, a subtle shade deeper crimson than Edge’s, and remembered Red calling him brother.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red was the one who kept Edge from losing his everfucking mind and tearing the town apart looking for him, the same way Papyrus must've kept Blue in check. Stretch wasn’t entirely stupid, was, in fact, a genius and he had the damn paperwork to prove it. He’d sent his one shot at a message to Red, trusting him to not only be the one to save them, but to get the dark side of the joke from the song he’d chosen to play.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red had laughed.

Hell, in some ways he knew Red better than he knew himself, but since he did know himself pretty damn well, Stretch made a point of acting like it. He left the door open and went to plop down in the sofa, propped his bony feet in Edge’s socks up in the coffee table, and said, “couldn’t let us sleep for another hour, asshole?”

The fractional easing of tension in Red’s shoulders was blink-and-you’d-miss-it quick, so it was a good thing skeletons didn’t really need to blink. He sauntered into the house with his usual big dick energy and kicked the door shut, ignoring Edge’s outraged hiss as he said laconically, “we need to talk some, honey bun.”

Stretch only nodded. “figured. have a seat and i’ll give you the whole novel, from the start to the footnotes.” Edge was still standing close to the kitchen door, leaning on his cane heavier than normal and clearly torn between staying and giving them privacy if Stretch asked for it. Heh, as if. “hey, babe, knock knock.”

Edge let out a perfunctory sigh as he said, flatly obedient, “Who’s there?”

“water

“Water who?”

Stretch grinned and slid an arm along the sofa back in invitation. “water you waiting for, come over here and hold me.”

The struggle to hide exasperated humor was eclipsed by a fierce solemness and Edge was next to him on the sofa in an instant, settling Stretch into a gentle embrace. The hugs he’d been missing this morning were coming back tenfold and if Stretch closed his sockets, he could feel the trembling desperation in Edge’s touch, his grip so tight the bones under it ached, and how the hell had he kept from flinging himself at Stretch the second he came into the kitchen?

He’d been waiting for Stretch to come to him, Stretch realized, not wanting to overwhelm him or slather him in the sort of manic overprotectiveness he usually balked at. The swell of his love for his husband nearly choked him, filling his soul to bursting, and he snuggled in, basking in his warmth, his scent, the purity of his adoration.

The silence dragged on without even a disgusted groan or a cleared throat, and when Stretch slit open his sockets to have a look, he found Red watching them, an unreadable expression on his unusually somber face.

Stretch patted the sofa cushion on his other side, “hey, you, come here?”

Red actually took a step back, his sockets going wide, as if Stretch had offered him a nice, firm slap on the ass instead of a seat, except he might have accepted that, if only to be an asshole. For a second, Stretch wondered if he’d shortcut out, fleeing from the subtle threat of affection and maybe sending Sans back to take Stretch’s statement instead.

Better not to wait for him to try and Stretch reached deep down inside for a little coaxing, the same way he’d forced himself to reach out months ago to a tiny kitten hiding in the bushes at the bus stop despite the unreasonably terrified thundering pulse of his soul. “c’mon, you can record over here, i know you’re gonna.” There was another beat of fraught silence before Stretch added, quietly, “please?”

That blank face twisted, emotions running beneath it too quickly to parse as Red scrubbed a hand over his skull and muttered aloud, “ah, fuck, honey bun.”

His boots managed to thump loudly as he stomped over despite the carpeted floor and the rough, exasperated sound from Red as he flung himself on the sofa sounded a hell of a lot like winning. Stretch hauled him in against his other side, ignoring his snarls and flailing, tucking him in comfortably despite him stiffening like a corpse. Minutes ticked by as Red reluctantly relaxed, all the surprising weight of his small frame leaning into Stretch.

Edge said nothing, only shifted his hand minutely until his knuckles were pressed tight to Red’s upper arm.

Yeah, this was what Stretch wanted, no, needed. Caged in on both sides by the people he trusted to keep him safe, trusted with his very soul, and Stretch took a long slow breath, letting it out slowly as he braced himself to dive into his unpleasant, perfect memory of the night. “okay. i’m ready.”

Next to him, Red shifted and Stretch waited for the click of the recorder before he began, the words rising in him like the tide as he sank under the surface into memory.

“so, andy and i were supposed to be checking out bands for that big embassy party ass-gore is throwing—"

tbc

[lizacstuff]

Your top 5 edser moments, please :)

Okay, ask me tomorrow and they might be different, in no particular order:

Paparazzi - Episode 5 - This is probably my most rewatched episode, and I LOVE everything from the moment he catches her hand as she’s headed for the paps to them cruising into the sunset. First, superficially, they are both HOT AF in this scene. Hande is always one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, but in this getup she outdid herself. No wonder Serkan got distracted earlier and told her how beautiful she was... twice. Also it’s nice that the show was able to use the fact that Kerem can bench press a car (probably) and show that off all Officer-and-a-Gentleman style. Nothing wrong with a man effortlessly whisking his lady off her feet. Now why does Serkan decide to carry her? Besides the fact that he’s extra af? Who knows? And who cares because it’s très romantique! (Actually I headcanon the path was going to end and he picked her up because she wouldn’t have been able to walk in the sand with those heels.) 

Besides the hilariously over-the-top aesthetics, what I love about this scene is the heartfelt emotions that led to the sacrifices they each made for the other. She was going to throw herself to the wolves and ruin her own reputation to save his and he left the podium while accepting an award and skipped out on the big contract signing to save her. Both put the other first and it was lovely. 

Pool - Episode 4 - I talked about this scene recently, but I just love it so much I have to include it. There is just something so balls-to-the-wall about the way she casually hops in the pool in her gorgeous dress the second he warns her to stay away from it; and the way he, without thinking, just takes a flying leap to save her. The fact that he doesn’t even hesitate, even though it means he’s going to miss the flight/meeting, gives me butterflies.  

Then once he’s “rescued” her, she just drops it that of course she can swim, why would she jump in the pool if she couldn’t swim!?!  And the way that neither of them notice that they have the full conversation with him still holding her in his arms. Yeah, they’re both right where they want to be. And the scene just gets funnier from there as they both try to cover when their guests arrive, delightful. The whole scene is funny, romantic, and satisfying.

Drunk Serkan - Episode 19 -  Every second of Drunk!Serkan on screen was gold. GOLD. From the unrelentingly firm but polite way he kicked Selin the eFF out of his house, to his little "you knock on my door” joke, to the cheesy grin he gave her when he said her name, to the way he confessed that she was the most precious thing in the world to him, this scene had it all. A barrel of laughs, a dash of angst, and more than enough romance and sexual tension. Plus how often do you get to see your broken-up favs get all touchy feely in a shower together? A treasure of a sequence! 

Date NIght - Episode 12 - This entire scene was the pinnacle of happy Edser, and I love every bit of it. The inefficient way they tried to chop the vegetables for the salad together was sweet and endearing. While the way they confessed their feelings for each other was uniquely them. Our feelings are mutual, indeed. Then... then... he has to go and name a star after her? Such a thoughtful and heartfelt gift based on her name and the time they’d spend together stargazing, because back then he didn’t even know that her father had made a promise about stars. Gah! 

They were just enthralled with each other the entire night. I’m not sure anyone knew what to expect of in-love Serkan, but he exceeded all my expectations and this scene was the height of the adooring, schmoopy, romantic robot. The entire scene is just sweetness overload, without ever becoming saccharine. Amazing.

Sunset Declaration - Episode 11 - After 20+ hours of buildup, this had to be big and the show didn’t disappoint. First they had him chase down her taxi on the road like a madman, it was frantic and emotionally-charged, and was just so right for this larger-than-life pair. And how fortunate that the taxi stopped at this lovely ocean overlook right at sunset! The setting was top notch and I can’t imagine how the actors and crew probably had to wait around for the sun to be in the exact right spot. I loved that they argued, because that’s what they were doing when they fell in love, arguing! Everything from the “Gitme” to the “I’ve fallen madly in love with you” was perfect. 

It’s also worth noting how satisfying it was that when he finally admitted his feelings he was all-in. The way he went from still being in denial earlier in the episode to “Wait two months and I’ll uproot my entire life and go to Italy with you” was head-spinning, but actually believable for the character. Serkan Bolat doesn’t do anything halfway, if he’s in, he’s all-in. I love that about him, and I love that Eda was ready and willing to take that ride with him. 

[masterwords]

Fill Up the Sky (Part Two)

Notes: Dialogue heavy, beware of cliffhanger. I'm not sorry for what I'm doing to Hotch, but I am a little sorry for what I'm doing to Derek. I listen to A LOT (really almost exclusively) of Sam Cooke when I write Hotch & Morgan, so it gets a little schmoopy and sad. ~2500 words again (I think it'll probably be more like 4 parts at this point)

Previously On: PART ONE

“What happened to that whole I work too much speech?” Derek asked, leaning in the doorway to the small guest room set up for he and Aaron. A crease formed between his brows while Aaron continued tapping the keys on his laptop, a scowl marring the otherwise soft appearance of the man in his khakis and sweater and reading glasses. He glanced up at Derek and relaxed his features, affected an air of nonchalance when he was really coiled tight and feeling electric.

“I missed a deadline, a report that I didn't realize I was responsible for creating, I just thought I was supposed to sign and send it on when it came through. I have to get this to the Director by the end of the day. Ten minutes, Derek.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.” His tone was accusatory, sharp. He'd heard it all before, the excuses, the reasons, it was always important. That was the problem, there wasn't any part of Aaron's job that wasn't important so it was impossible to brush any of it off.

“Derek,” said Aaron helplessly. “I'm trying. My phone has been ringing off the hook today and I've let a lot of it go but I can't ignore it all.”

“Oh, so you want some kind of award or something? Man, you told me you'd be good to stay. What the hell is it that can't wait until we get back?”

“With Strauss on leave,” Aaron started, closing his laptop so he could stand, giving Derek his full attention. Arguing was second nature for them, disagreements and head butting happened almost daily and neither of them took it seriously, but it rarely got heated anymore. Aaron felt a hot one coming on and was bracing himself. “I have a lot more on my plate. It's temporary, but for the time being I have no other choice.”

“No other choice? You were already doing two jobs!”

“Yes, and now I'm doing three. Derek, when you called the EAP, when you checked her into rehab, what exactly did you expect would happen? That her job would just stop needing to be done, wait for her to return? That isn't how it works.” He kept his voice low, lips barely moving while he spoke. He was tense, arms crossed tight across his chest, sweater bunching awkwardly in the sharp angles of his elbows. Derek was always open, arms at his sides, he didn't bottle things up, he didn't close himself off in the same ways Aaron did. It made their arguments explosive at times, but they both did their best to keep a lid on this one, for the sake of the people they loved in the house beneath them. Derek pressed into the room and closed the door behind him to muffle the sounds.

“Why don't you ever tell anyone you're drowning? Make people step up? I don't think I've ever seen Rossi do a single report, not ONE. You never make anyone pull their own weight, you show up hours before anyone and leave hours after, and a lot of it is you doing their jobs and your own and then you have the nerve to come here and talk to me like some kind of martyr when the suits at the top see a sucker and take advantage! And then you have the audacity to be surprised when your doctor tells you that you need to lighten your load and find healthy ways to deal with your stress before your damn heart explodes...”

“Derek...” Aaron attempted, and Derek knew that last bit was below the belt but he was hot and it was the truth. There was a knock at the door and they both paused, tried to shake it off and loosen up. Derek pulled the door open and smiled at his mother, standing there with a mug of coffee in her hand.

“I thought Aaron might need this,” she said softly, handing the mug to Aaron with a smile. He took it gratefully and hugged it close to him, the heat stinging his fingertips. In the moment of quiet, he became acutely aware of a tightness in his chest and he focused hard on the way Fran's earrings sparkled when she moved her head but he couldn't seem to draw in enough breath. He gripped the mug tighter, moved it to his face and tried to breathe in the steam. Something happened then, like his lungs remembered how to do their jobs and he pulled in a deep breath, feeling it slice painfully through him, arcing off of his ribs like a bolt of lightning.

“Dinner is ready,” she added quietly, still just looking at them. Maybe willing them to talk, or just hanging out long enough that they both cooled off. Whatever it was, she just stood there in silence watching them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Morgan,” Aaron replied, forcing air through his lungs and inching a little closer to Derek, until their elbows touched, a silent offer of his white flag. His chest ached and the last thing he wanted was to have Derek mad at him. Fran looked them up and down and shook her head, she knew what two hot headed people could be like and she could read the tension in the room loud and clear. She left without another word, though she had plenty she'd like to say to her son. It could wait for another time, they had their own things to sort out. When she'd gone, Derek closed the door again and turned to look at Aaron, both of them with softer features than before. This was how it usually ended, with a quiet apology because they both understood that, harsh words aside, they were on the same side and they wanted the same things, they just struggled with how to get there. Derek knew Aaron didn't want to be tied to the office, not like this anyway. He liked his job, he thrived on his job, but even he had his limits and he was well beyond them, that much was clear. His son was downstairs with a brand new family, and Jessica was learning how to cook Derek's aunt's famous beef stew and he was up here tied to his laptop trying to fumble his way through a report he barely understood, he wasn't fighting for it because he wanted it, he was fighting for it because he had no other choice.

“I just want you to be here with us,” Derek said, resting his hand on Aaron's arm softly. “My family wants to know you and who knows when we'll get another opportunity like this.”

Aaron sighed and took a sip of the coffee to settle himself, to feel the way the warmth spread through the tightness in his ribs. “I'm sorry Derek. Really. Ten minutes, and I'm yours for the rest of the night. No phone, no laptop. Ten minutes.” He didn't say he promised, he knew better than that, but he meant it. Derek just nodded and let out a long, low sigh before making his way out of the room without another word and Aaron sat back down, opening up his laptop to try and figure out what the hell he was supposed to be sending before he got another angry phone call.

Derek excused himself to take a quick walk around the block, told everyone to go ahead and eat without them. No one did, they all insisted on waiting, carried on visiting instead. It was loud in his head, but the street was quiet in that slow time reserved for dinner and family in the neighborhood. He listened to the wind rustling through the leaves above, car horns honking in the distance felt like they were on another planet. Not his city. His city was quiet now, it was listening to his heavy breathing, his angry footsteps pounding on the sidewalk.

“How are you?” he asked, holding his phone delicately, leaning his back up against a brick building at the end of the block. He kept his house in sight, afraid he might somehow lose it in his anger.

“I'm doing alright,” the woman on the other end of the line said. Her voice was somber, a little rough around the edges but kind. Derek could feel his breath catch in his throat, listening to her raw pain through her breaths. He had no business calling her, he knew that, but there was something dark twisting through him and he was desperate for relief, someone to tell him it would be okay. He wouldn't get it here, though, he knew that now. "But you didn't call to ask about me."

“Chief Strauss,” he said, sliding down the building until he was crouched on his haunches, staring desperately at the asphalt beneath his feet. The oil slicks, the cigarette butts, the scuffed toes of his motorcycle boots. “I know I have no right to call you about this after placing you on leave but...I don't know who else to call. They have Hotch doing your job and his own and,” he was rambling, but she cut him off with a shrill, mirthless chuckle.

“Why do you think his wife left him? Why do you think my marriage crumbled? I never took you for someone so naive, Agent Morgan.”

It hit him like a torpedo, right in the gut, knocked the wind out of him. He slipped down until he was sitting and dropped his phone, letting her voice come through the speaker without hearing the words any longer. It was the second time that day it was implied that he was naive, blind and he realized maybe it was the truth. Running his hands over his head, dragging them down his face, he chastised himself – what had he expected? He'd been watching the slow, methodical demise of Aaron Hotchner since he joined the BAU and somehow, every single day, he fooled himself into believing it wasn't true. It couldn't happen, not to him.

When Aaron made his way down to the kitchen, Derek saw his face, the shadow cast over his sharp features. There was a pinched, pained look there, his knuckles white as he gripped the banister and descended the staircase and Derek almost jumped up to see what was wrong, but the minute his foot hit the landing he melted into a creature made entirely of gentle curves and not a single angle. He smiled at Jack and Jessica, made his way to the table and sat down in time to have a bowl of beef stew placed before him. He glanced over at Derek with a silent nod, acknowledging his compliance with their pact. Not a phone in sight, his laptop was powered down and put away. The table was full of faces Aaron didn't know, not really, though he felt like he did. Derek talked about his family often, told stories about all of the people he was now meeting. There were a few familiar faces, people he'd met with his scowl and his suit and tie in police stations, but he wondered if they remembered him, or knew who he was now, sitting there at the table smiling and joking with his son, tugging playfully at Jessica's unruly curls in his face when she leaned across him to hand Jack a napkin or splash hot sauce into his stew when she thought he wasn't looking. His phone rang off the hook upstairs, but he didn't plan to look at it until the morning. It wasn't easy, he could feel the pull, the way his fingers itched to grab it and see who needed him and why, but he forced himself to be present and though his head was throbbing now and he felt hot around the collar, he sat with his glass of wine and visited with Derek's family, looked through photo albums he begged them not to pull out, listened to stories about how scrawny he'd been as a little boy. Cindy took particular joy in telling those stories, and her son and Jack wandered off to find play in the world of imaginative little boys, bored by the incessant adult talking.

By the time they were in bed, lying curled around each other, Derek was feeling more hopeful. He knew how hard it was for Aaron to ignore work the entire night, but he made it look effortless the way he stayed present, smiled, laughed, engaged with everyone the best he knew how. Social situations weren't easy for him, he was always quiet and preferred listening over talking, but Derek could tell he was there. Really, truly there. He had no problem being the center of attention, holding the room in hysterics, hypnotized by his charisma, he didn't expect Aaron to do the same. He just needed him there. Aaron pressed himself into Derek's embrace, folding his long legs and arms up as tight as he could, pressing his cold toes into the soft places behind Derek's knees. It wasn't often that Aaron went to bed without socks on, but he didn't have any, he hadn't been planning on spending this long in Chicago so they'd need to do some laundry in the morning. They didn't talk, not a single word, just fell asleep to the rhythm of the other's breath.

2:24am. Aaron woke with a start, a sharp, desperate gulp of air that couldn't seem to make it into his lungs. He pushed away from Derek, untangled himself like it might help, eyes wide in the inky black of the room. Silver strands of moonlight pooled near the open window and he tried to focus his eyes there, tried to draw in in a breath. The dull ache in his chest had become a crushing pain, the kind they tell you all about in movies and you don't believe until it's happening to you. His heart was racing so hard it felt like a bloody fist beating at his ribs, hammering against his breast bone. He blinked hard against the throbbing in his ears, stood and tried to make it to the door, to the bathroom, stumbling on weary legs just to get away, to hide somewhere safe and alone. Stretching his hand out, palm against the wall, he steadied himself and hung his head, tears burning hot down his cheeks.

“Derek,” he gasped, realizing he wasn't going to make it to the bathroom. Slowly, Derek came to, sitting himself upright, and Aaron felt his whole chest seize up, like his heart had just stopped working, like he might die right there and then Derek's hands were on his arms and he tried to speak but nothing came out. Derek pulled him away from the wall, into his chest and his voice sounded faint, faraway though it was right there, hot breath against his skin. Easing them down onto the bed, whispering soft, calming words into Aaron's ear, Derek held him and Aaron realized Derek thought it was a panic attack, was holding him so tight like that would help and he thought about the boy who cried wolf. He shook his head, trembling hands pounding at his chest while he tried to speak, to tell Derek that wasn't it but he'd seen this too many times before, he knew how it played out when there wasn't really a wolf stalking the sheep. He blinked up, tried to focus, saw Derek's face so close now and he hated the concern, the fear in his eyes and maybe it was just a panic attack, maybe he wasn't dying. He wanted to take it away, to tell him he was fine, if he could just get a breath into his lungs he could do it, he could force the lie out and maybe Derek would believe it.

He always had before.

[fiamac]

AO3 Tag Game

Tagged by the illustrious, incomparable @stillbeatingheart

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

An even 50 

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

230,499 — woo! go me!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh... seven. Inception, Teen Wolf, Supernatural. The Old Guard, The Princess Bride (does this count if it’s a fusion?), The Cassandra Palmer series, and the Darkest Powers series (not on AO3)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All are from my Psycho Heroes series, unsurprisingly:

It’s Just A Twitch, And It’s Part of His Style

You So Impolitely Walked Into My Dreams

The Fall Makes You Break

The Wise Man Knows

Disarm You With a Smile

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably either You Can Close Your Eyes (But That’s Not Gonna Take Away the View) or My Heroes All Became Psychotics. Both deal with the same breakup but from different POVs.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They all end happy—eventually, sort of—but I’d say As You Wish, my Teen Wolf/Princess Bride fusion fic since that one’s, like, an actual storybook happily-ever-after ending. The happy couple rides off into the sunset and sails away to a paradise of their own making. What could be better?

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I love crossovers! I’ve only finished two, but I have so many crossover WIPs. So. Many. The craziest one is a self-indulgent crack fic tentatively titled Moody, Dark, and Handsome, which has Magnus Bane from Shadowhunters making a drunken magic oopsie and transporting characters from That Awkward Magic, Teen Wolf, Inception, Check Please!, and Supernatural into his world. There’s just so many beautiful, dark-haired grumpy-gusses out there, after all, and it’s hard for a warlock’s inebriated mind to pinpoint the exact one he’s looking for.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

You bet your patootie, I do. Mostly I write plotty smut, or smut’n’feels, because I have a hard time with keeping plot out of my fics. So far, all my smut is in the Inception fandom. Two of my best smutty works are Lust in Translation and The Tightest Fit, if you realllllly wanna know what I write.

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I always intend to respond to all comments and actually respond to maybe 80–90% of them. Me not responding is usually due to Life Woes or having literally no idea what to say back. (It’s not you, it’s me.) I enjoy responding to comments because I like it when other writers respond to mine, I desperately want to talk about my fics, it makes me feel connected to the fandom, and it helps keep my readers engaged with my stories—which is handy when you put out an ongoing saga that’s been taking years and years to write.

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Happy to say, I haven’t. Sometimes I get “concrit” and shit (pro tip, folks: unsolicited criticism is never constructive). And one memorable instance, a reader was completely hating on the events within my story but, like... as if I were a sympathetic ear? Despite the fact that I obviously wrote the very thing they were upset about...? It was very weird.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, though I check periodically. ::narrow-eyed stare:: 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Some people have asked permission, but nothing yet. On that note, I give blanket permission for any transformative works of my transformative works. Or even my original works. Go nuts. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

::nervous foot shuffle:: Uh... there was this plan? But, uh, no, not yet. @iamanonniemouse look away!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Playing favorites!? I could never! Or, fine okay. It’s probably Sterek. With most ships, I love one of the characters more than the other(s). But I adore Stiles and Derek equally, second only to how much I love them together.

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t ever think you will?

My first-ever fic, Awakened, for the Darkest Powers YA series (the Dereks, again! I have such a type). It lives on ffnet, and I’m very proud of the some of the writing in it and have the rest of the story mapped out for the most part. But it’s just never gonna happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Consistency, maybe? I like to think I’m good at avoiding plot holes, loose threads, and OOC-ness. Oh, and I’ve been surprisingly successful at combining crack-worthy humor, violent angst, tasty smut, and schmoopy feels all in the same fic. That’s definitely a superpower.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Big chunks of exposition acting like giant speed bumps, slowing things down. And I definitely struggle to keep stories contained within manageable, achievable goals. Everything turns into a a series of multichaptered WIPs up the wazoo. 

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Darkest Powers, a YA book series by Kelley Armstrong

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s either Cock Handling or As You Wish. Both of these were ridiculously fun to create and gave me that “yes, I am a writer” rush.

I’m going to tag @vex-verlain, @little-specificity, and @slashmania but and anyone else who wants to play. No pressure, of course!

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

nick/mesh anon! I DID listen to table manners (after searching your blog for mesh mentions ha!) and I went in thinking I'd just search for the story on how they met and then 45 mins later I'd listened to the whole thing. Jessie and her mom are so fun, and Nick is very engaging obviously (side note: I also found the dinner time/class discussion fascinating!!) But how wonderful for Nick to have met Mesh on the day after his brk show gig ended?! And I have never related more to a celebrity than when Nick's friend was like "you like that guy, lets get you introduced" and Nick was all, "ab-so-lutely NOT." I thought it was so cute how he canceled his holiday and then also how he talks about the division of chores now. The range of that--that first love-rush weekend of staying up all night talking versus the navigation of sharing a household--paints such a broad range that I will shameless fill in with happiness :D I went back and looked at their posts around the time they met (rabbit hole, I tell you!) and there were some cute ones on there (Mesh's birthday post was essentially "I am really happy" in a ahhhh way once you know) and then them like making the decision to post about each other ... I just find that moment so interesting to think about and that public personalities have to have that conversation with their new partners and what that conversation looks like. This might be me projecting too much or having internalized things from how this fandom views nick (sigh) but I do get the impression that pre Mesh, Nick was a bit insecure about romantic relationships (with the pining over unavailable people and the attitude about seeing someone attractive and then NOT introducing yourself both of which I can absolutely relate to) and now the thing I like the most about how they portray their relationship is that they both seem really secure in it? They have their fair share of "i love you, you're my favorite person" posts, but the ones I like the most are just normal you're-integrated-into-my-life-in-a-permanent-way posts. For example, Pig apparently got sick and they built a little camp on the living room floor so they could all sleep together and keep an eye on the doggo (and his violent poops!) and that very ordinary, unpleasant, we're in this together because we love each other and our dog-child felt very lovely to me and settled. And them just like decorating their home together, I find almost more endearing than the schmoopy pictures (which, tbh, i also love, don't get me wrong). Anyway for Nick to have worried (on the tm episode) "I'm going to die alone," and as someone who relates to that aspect of him, to see him settling into this life with someone makes me all emotional. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG!!! But yes I now follow them both on instagram and am looking forward to more joy--both in quiet moments and big ones :) Thanks for listening to me blather!

I love all these thoughts anons - and I've been holding up and posting it until I had time to go through and look at their instas from when they got together - and I really loved it - thanks for the idea. I do love the combination of lovey and domestic that they've got going on.

It is lovely to see his story about himself and his life change in this way. I'm really curious what's going to happen next for them.

[whumpywhumper]

New York--Part 2

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @rosesareviolentlyread @oceanthesarcasamfox @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump @captivity-whump @walkingchemicalfire 

As always, @0idril0 was indispensable to this series and the fact she’s allowed me to use Clint makes me so grateful, go check out her Nico Series

Please see the: Masterpost and New York--Part 1

TW: Mentions of possible character death. This is some angsty, schmoopy, worldbuilding. 

V***V

Clint growled, head spiraling after looking at the evidentiary photographs for hours. An itch had started under his skin about an hour ago, making him antsy and grumpy. 

He flicked the photograph of one of the “cattle cells”, one of the female Elder’s, onto the table with a disgusted snarl. “What the fuck have you pulled me into, Holland?” 

The older man groaned, throwing a photo onto the table himself before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping that you could tell me that, Clint. We know it’s a nest, but only Christ knows what else they’re doing. How big they actually are. They’re organized, they’re doing something else.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair.  “Caught wind of them about six months ago, about the time I heard you were in Chicago, but we didn’t get a solid lead until recently.” Their eyes met across the table, and Clint saw the fountain of wisdom in them that had made him trust him for years. “I’ve got a gut feeling, it’s why I wanted you here.” 

He tugged at a fist full of hair, trying to stretch out his back. The conference room was quiet other than the footsteps of the nurses back and forth to their station. Kincaid had fallen asleep on the table, one hand still holding a pen as he’d taken copious notes in everything in the photos. 

Ben was laying on the ground, feet propped up in his chair, a sheaf of papers on his chest. His glasses were askew and an occasional grunting snore filling the air. Delta, Justin, and Daniel had all left a few hours previous; Delta parting with one last glare that had made the remaining cops snicker. 

He shook his head, looking at all of the photos they’d gone through. “I need more info,” he sighed, “hands on info. This isn’t working for me. I want to talk to some of the people inside. Anyone stand out as being someone who would talk?“ 

“Not right off the bat, no. Definitely not the vamps themselves. The humans on the inside, the ‘neolates’ as they call them, are pretty dedicated, and quite a few scattered to the wind when we raided. Most of the vics were out of the loop, either drugged or magicked to hell.”  

“Most?” 

“There were a few that were kept pretty strong so that the fledglings and juveniles could practice their-“ he wiggled his fingers, “-mind stuff.” 

Clint smirked, “they call it glamour.” 

“Whatever-” Holland waved away the correction, “-there were others that were kept for the vamps to have fun with. Point is, there’s a few that could tell us what was going on, and there’s a few that we’re still waiting on to get back in their right mind or waking up. If they’re going to wake up.” He sighed, exhausted. “I’m not sure any of them will be of any help, really.” 

“How many do you have here?” 

“All of the vics were originally stationed here, but the majority have been cleared to go home, or to some of the shelters and long term care facilities for rehab. We just don’t have the resources to keep them.” He started counting on his fingers, looking pensive. “I have the statements that we got from them before we released them—there was a veritable shitstorm of uniforms and detectives up here interviewing—and I have contact information for all of them if you want to interview ‘em.” He shook his head, pursing his lips. “I don’t think that that would be the best use of your time, there’s too many of them, and they don’t know much.” 

Holland stretched, pulling a file toward himself and looking at a list.  “I think there’s about thirty that are here in their longer stay wards, a few of those are being weaned off of some heavy narcotics so their testimony isn’t as reliable as I want right now, and we have one under ICU care, but he’s being kept on the same floor for ease of access and security—it’s actually this floor. He’s why Blue Nightmare out there is being such a bitch, she wants him up on the other floor.” Rolling his eyes, he smirked, a fond edge to his lips. “I’ve tried to tell her that it’s for his protection, we have units stashed all over, but she’s still worried. It also irritates her to no end that we’ve messed up her nurses rotations and shifts, but Olivia is a good egg. One of the best.”  He tossed the file to Clint, but it was a gibberish list of names, initials, and medical stats. “There’s a couple of bodies down in the morgue here, and a few at the coroner’s office, if you want to take a look at them. There was an incinerator on site, we think that’s where the majority of their bodies went.” 

Sighing, Clint closed the file and rubbed at his eyes. “Were there any nest members that were injured in the raid?” 

“A few, I’ve already interviewed them, they’re not going to give much I don’t think. They were their front line. You might have more luck—especially if I’m not there.” Clint smiled to himself, Holland wasn’t ever one to stand on police procedure when it came to sups, but he was never unfair about it. “Uhh, there’s one that might be more helpful, I didn’t even think about him since he’s practically on death’s door anyway.” He pulled another file out of a stack, almost toppling it onto Kincaid. “His name is Joseph, he was apparently getting some kind of cure for working for the vamps, but now the docs say he’s got two weeks, at best. Pancreatic cancer.” 

Clint hummed as he took the proffered file, flipping it open to look at the picture. A young African-American man looked up at him from a mug shot, dark eyes pained and hollow. He couldn’t have been more than twenty three, already dying, faced with an impossible decision. Fuck. How many other nest mates were in the same position?

“You’ve got a lot of pictures here of the nesting areas and containment cells. Where was the nest located?” 

“It’s a renovated factory at the edge of the city, they’d expanded it and turned it into a compound. Rumor had it that there was a small clinic that was run out of it for supernaturals of all types. We’re not sure how their greater operation was evading scrutiny, but this nest runs deep. I think it’s one of their main strongholds though, and Justin can take you tomorrow.” 

Sighing, Clint looked back over the mounds of photographs. “Holland. . . This is a big operation, it’s gonna to take a lot of time.” He shook his head, biting at his lip. “I wanna help, and I can give you a few days, but I have something I’m already in the middle of investigating. It’s important.” 

“I heard through the grape vine, a friend of yours went missing in Massachusetts a few months back?” Holland interlaced his fingers, deliberately putting his elbows on the table and looking at him with a compassion that Clint wanted to reject. He knew what he thought, and he wasn’t ready to accept it. “You still haven’t found him?” 

He grunted a negative, avoiding the other man’s eyes. “Leads went cold, was actually hoping some of my connections here might have heard something.” 

“How long has he been gone?” 

“Five months.” 

“Clint,” Holland paused, a gusty sigh through his nose before his hand rasped against his gray stubble, “Massachusetts is four hours from here, and they’re both densely populated. There’s little likelihood that anyone would have heard something, or remember something from five months ago, no matter how small the supernatural community is.” They both paused, a sinking, palpable tension filling the room. “Clint, son, look at me,” he said softly. 

His eyes burned, and he knew when he met Holland’s steadfast gaze that they were red with unshed tears. “I don’t wanna hear it, Holland,” he whispered, a hot coal in his throat. 

The other man nodded at him, a small frown on his face as he climbed to his feet stiffly, closing the distance between them. Clint didn’t move from his seated position, looking up at his friend as he put a strong hand on his shoulder. Gripping him tightly. 

Holland held his gaze, words unstoppable. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, son, but it’s not gonna change anything to sugar coat it. To avoid the reality. You’ve been doing this for long enough, you know the statistics.” He squeezed Clint’s shoulder, bracing him. “You know what I’m going to say, and I don’t have to spell it out for you. I’m not going to bullshit you like I would some civvy; you wouldn’t appreciate it, and I’ve never been very good at it.” 

He sighed heavily, giving Clint time to scramble madly for control of himself. “You need to accept that your friend is probably gone, Clint,” he said softly, “and probably has been for a while.” 

Clint shuddered, biting his tongue as his wolf howled inside of him, wanting to join in with that disconsolate sound. A few rogue tears spilled onto his cheeks. “Fuck,” he hissed between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he bowed his head. He knew that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to accept it. 

Holland’s thick hand rubbed at his back, short rough strokes, before he continued. “The supernatural community is dangerous, Clint, and you all live on the fringe of death every day—you know that even better than I do. It’s why I need your help.” 

He gestured to Ben and Kincaid, encompassing the make shift command station, the ambiguous motion somehow including their futility. “As much as this is our livelihood, we’re still just laymen when it comes to the supernatural community, to the intricacies of how magic works and how you operate.” He sighed, showing every inch of his sympathy in the gaze he locked onto Clint. 

“Please, son, help me stop this from happening to other people, while we still can.” 

Swallowing thickly, Clint coughed on a sob, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I hate when you’re right,” he choked out, sniffling. 

“I hate when I’m right too,” Holland answered sadly, leaving is hand on Clint’s shoulder in support. 

It took several long minutes for Clint to get ahold of himself, and he felt exhausted as he raised his head. The heels of his hands dug into this eyes, trying to clear away the tears. Holland backed off, returning to his chair at the head of the table. 

He sighed, looking around at the other officers, trying to push his hair back. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted, and these two are definitely exhausted. When was the last time they slept in a bed?” 

Holland huffed, exasperated. “I couldn’t get them to leave after the raid for longer than it took to shower and grab more clothes. That was about 72 hours ago, I don’t know that they’ve left this room unless they told each other to shower and eat. Kincaid is taking this personally, and Ben is always along for the ride.” 

Clint raised an eyebrow, staring at him sideways. “They together?” 

“Going on eight years, partners before that, and don’t you look at me like that either,” he said, pointing a finger at him. “They’re the best damn tactical team I’ve come across, I’d be downright stupid to try and split them up. 

Raising his hands in surrender, Clint let the subject go. Supernatural squads didn’t always follow the book, but they couldn’t if they wanted results. “Do the nurses have a rack room they’d consider letting us use?” 

“Yeah, the Chief of the hospital already pulled some of the bunks they have for their on call people into an empty room. It’s cramped, but it’ll do. Help me get ‘em up.” 

Grinning, Clint kicked the chair out from under Ben’s feet and laughed at his snorted yelp as the other man shot up, sheets of paper falling to the floor. 

Holland chuckled, shaking Kincaid awake, “c’mon, Sleeping Beauty, we’ll pick this up after you get a few hours of shut eye.” Kincaid tried to argue, a mumbled complaint that was incomprehensible as he raised his head, bleary eyes blinking owlishly. “Ah-ah! I’ll listen to your objections when you can enunciate.” 

Helping Ben to his feet, his glasses still askew, they followed Holland. The large hospital afforded them a lot of distance between the conference room and the patient rooms, but Holland led them back to toward the nurses station, the empty room apparently near the patients.  

The nurse from before, Olivia, was glaring at a computer like it had personally offended her mother. She looked up at them as they passed, and Clint could smell the worry and stress on her, tell-tale lines marring her makeup. He nodded at her, and saw her face soften a fraction as she looked over Ben and Kincaid. “Get some actual sleep, all of you,” she ordered, “I don’t want to be your nurse; you don’t want me to be your nurse.” The threat was clear, and they all saluted her as they made their way into their designated room. 

One of the doors to a patient’s room opened, and Clint sneezed, making sure to cover his mouth and nose as the scent of sickness, stress, and hurt invaded his nostrils. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, “I hate hospitals.” 

Kincaid shrugged out of the police issued hoodie he was wearing, tossing it at his head. “Here, Copper, take a whiff of that.” 

Clint rolled his eyes at the movie reference. “I’m getting real tired of the bloodhound jokes,” he grumbled, throwing the hoodie over his shoulder. His eyes widened though as the scent of rosemary and magic hit his overstimulated nostrils. Shoving the hoodie against his nose, he took a deep breath and snapped his head over to raise his eyebrows at Kincaid. “Well, that woulda been nice to know!” Clint growled, a little of his shock bleeding over into the words. It wasn’t often a witch took him by surprise. 

Said witch laughed as he turned into a door way after Holland and Ben, who were also chuckling, climbing onto the closest top bunk. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a bead on me earlier, I heard werewolves have super sniffers.” He shrugged sheepishly, “I’m really not strong enough to do anything with the magic, never delved into it, but maybe it’ll help with the hospital smell.” He smiled at his partner from his height as the slightly older man took his glasses off and set them carefully on a counter. “C’mon, slow poke.”

“You’re an over grown child,” Ben grumped, pointing at him in mock outrage. 

“The problem with hospitals,” Clint explained, “is that I can’t smell a whole lot over everything that’s going on. Too many hormones, bodily fluids, and cleaning supplies.” Clint climbed onto the empty bottom bunk, opposite to Holland as the Captain let them bicker, the older man sitting on the already rumpled bunk below Kincaid and kicking off his shoes.

Ben shut off the light before he crawled up next to Kincaid. “Shut up, you two,” he grumbled, thwumping down, pulling the blanket over Kincaid’s face. 

Holland kicked the bottom of their bunk as the furniture gave a slightly ominous creak. “I swear to god, if you two fall on me, you’re both fired.” 

“Sir, yes sir!” They both replied. 

Shaking his head, Clint made himself comfortable under the thin hospital issue sheets, putting Kincaid’s hoodie over the pillow. He felt slightly silly, using the other man’s clothes basically as a gas mask, but anything was better than the thick aroma of bleach on the pillow case. 

Even with the lights off, the busy streetlight peeked through the blinds, illuminating the two men on the top bunk. He sighed, wanting Nico, to hold him close and make sure his Mate was safe. Even if the bond wasn’t formed yet, he wanted him. He wanted to make sure all of his pack was safe, the raw wound that Holland had dealt making an itch to check on Illyn, the other folks down in Louisiana. Gotta ask to borrow a phone tomorrow. 

Sniffing, he held the pillow close, analyzing the undertow of scents. Rosemary. Lime. Garlic. Gunpowder. The tickling scent of magic mixed with them, a memory of a memory wafting across his brain. He could swear that he smelled Markus, not Kincaid, but he sighed, pushing the thought away. 

His talk with Holland was too close, that’s all. Still, he held on to the scent as he fell asleep, a vague comfort against the ache. 

[winterhasbeencoming]

Marvey Fic Recs [already UPDATED]

rongrealmwrongtime requested some recs for good Marvey fics and I've been thinking about doing this for a while. So brace yourselves for the monstrosity that is my all-time favorites. 

I rarely give feedback (which is horrible, I know), so I hope this master list shows my appreciation for all of you out there sharing your creations with us mortals. 

I won’t include unfinished fics/series in here. I’ll also keep it updated and add things.

(While doing this I realized I’m kinda obsessed with works by sal-si-puedes, tattooedsiren, and FrivolousSuits)

General Audiences

Blockbuster series by ThrillingDetectiveTales

How Many More Chances Are You Going to Give that Kid? by blackeyedsoul

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In by novemberhush

I'll Be Here For You by statusquo_ergo

Ill-Fitting Black Suits by cnomad

Last Friday Night by tezzzz [best bachelor party fic]

Lobster and other Catastrophes by TooSel  [tie for top post-s07 fic; possibly my fav Suits fic of all time]

May The Best Man Win by novemberhush

Never Regret Us by charmed4lifekaren

Not Too Late by FrivolousSuits

Now We're Even by Sauffie

Paging Dr. Freud series by novemberhush

Plus One by Pookaseraph

Rattled by FrivolousSuits [amazing comment fic for 5x14]

The Secrets We As Lawyers Keep by thesassmaster

The Tenth Man by sal_si_puedes

Terrified by tiptoe39

A Thousand Words or One series by JustSomeMusings

Trevor is the Root of All Evil by nyargles

We Used To Be Friends (We're Gonna Be Lovers) by novemberhush

Teen and Up

Affixed to You by tattooedsiren

All Alone on Christmas by skywardsmiles

At the Doorstep by FrivolousSuits

Bayu Bayushki Bayu by writingtoreachyou [BEST prison fic I’ve ever read]

Bury all Your Secrets in my Skin by tattooedsiren

Chicken Soup For The Slightly Damaged Soul by TheSightlessSniper

Come On Back to Paradise by FrivolousSuits [tie for top post-s07 fic; definitely fav 5+1]

A Condition of Happiness by eadunne2

Confessions by Sairyn

Disconnected by Loyalty2WayStreet

Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue by novemberhush

Fair Enough by Closer

Guilty (Of Love in the First Degree) by Loyalty2WayStreet

Hope Vs. Experience - Wherever They may Lead Us by ThatwasJustaDream

I Need This by Loyalty2WayStreet

If You Have to Think Twice by kho [fav stoned fic]

Imagine the End of the Storm by statusquo_ergo [fav by this author]

In Life After Life by TooSel

In The Other Hours by tattooedsiren

The Jackpot Question by lesbianchrispine (Sher_locked_up)

Just The Two Of Us by sal_si_puedes

Landmarks to a Treasure by tattooedsiren

No Expiration Date by FrivolousSuits

Not a Fraud Anymore by Sauffie

The Note by ThatwasJustaDream

Objection by FrivolousSuits

Sleep is a Symptom of Caffeine Deprivation by PhoenixFlame

Stay Out of Trouble by tattooedsiren

Strictly Ballroom by sal_si_puedes

The Sweetest Things In Life Are Free by Stealthlamb1

The Truth About Us by AmorVerdan

Twist the drama of the play to get us by statusquo_ergo

Untitled Rainbow Ficlets by vaguesalvation

When You Really Love Somebody by kho [my thoughts on post-prison in one fic]

Where I Leave my Hurt Behind by Sway [best hug fic everrrr]

White Turkey by Sway

The Whittaker Case by kho

You Should Have Called by laughter_now

Explicit

The Age Old Question & The Only Right Answer by Sairyn 

Anamnesis by DLanaDHZ [amnesia!fic]

Answer in the Form of a Question by blackstar777

Are You Attracted To Me? by Bontaque 

The Awkward Life and Times of Mike Ross (Fool's Gold) by mockturtletale

Back in Town by ScottieB

Be Home For Sunday by SunshineWaves

Best in the World by mskatej

The Best Thing Ever by sal_si_puedes

Bittersweet Sensation by joannereads

Call It a Dream by wolfzaa

Call Me by Love2Slash

Cinnamon by eadunne2

Come Again by mskatej

Come Back To Me by CowandCalf

Counting to Infinity by sal_si_puedes

Dawn by CowandCalf

Declaration by smartalli

Different by sal_si_puedes [fav by this author]

Even Miracles Take A Little Time by team_freewill

Even the Impossible is Easy by tattooedsiren [fav Christmas fic]

Eyes Wide Open by Loyalty2WayStreet

Five Times Mike’s Phone Sort of Gets Him Into Trouble and One Time It Really, Really Doesn’t by Robin Gills (Akiseo)

Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall by sal_si_puedes

Happy Stoniversary by Loyalty2WayStreet [one of the best 5+1s, lots of stoned Marvey]

Home series by TooSel [kid!fic]

I Don't Feel Right (when you're gone away) by IDreamOnlyOfYou (lauren3210)

I told YOU by blackeyedsoul

If Ever I Was Running by tattooedsiren

Jealousy Bites by Love2Slash

King Solomon's Dream by sal_si_puedes

Klutz (Or: Accidentally Mike) by Attorney C

Leave of Absence by butterflycell

Let Me Down Easy by sal_si_puedes

Let Me Down Easy by TheSightlessSniper

Lost and Found by Sairyn

Lover to Lover series by skinnyties

Mea Culpa by TooSel

Mr. Harvey J. Specter by flamyshine

My Guy by charmed4lifekaren

New Memories, Not Really A Surprise by sal_si_puedes

Not the Bates Motel by mskatej

Nothing Like We Used to Be by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)

Perfectly (Dys)fuctional by eadunne2

Please, Harvey by PaolaAdara

The Prime Directive by Sairyn

Purely Fictional by blackeyedsoul

The Red Earth Of Tara by sal_si_puedes

Red series by sal_si_puedes

Seven Sleeps by TheSightlessSniper

Seventy Two Hours by Areiton [best pre-prison fic]

Some Assembly Required by poppypickford

Something Else by sal_si_puedes

Spectrum by lipservice (thescariestadverbs)

To Please The Client by sal_si_puedes

The Trip by mskatej

Under the Sheets by joannereads

Vacation in Vermont by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni) [fav by this author]

Whispers in the Night by joannereads

Alternative Universe

5U175 by Closer [in which they write Star Trek fanfic omg]

All Straight Lines Circle Sometime by liketheroad [Time Traveler’s Wife AU - very creative]

Can You Keep A Secret? by Sauffie [fair warning: this is the angstiest fic I’ve ever read, it made me cry, it completely broke me down, but I’ll never forget it, so it was definitely impactful]

Coffee Cart-Client Privilege by FrivolousSuits

Coming To Your Senses by Skara_Brae

Curious George by sal_si_puedes

Fate’s Decree series by in_the_bottle [doctor AU]

Gatekeeper by SodiumBicarb

Grande Soy Triple Dirty Chai by friskaz [barista AU, so adorable]

Hilts' Bar by accol

Lemon Drops by Sway [You’ve Got Mail AU]

A Life Sentence (in your arms) by tattooedsiren

Of All the Gin Joints in All the World by FrivolousSuits [my fav AU hands down]

One Hour by sal_si_puedes

One Night Only by TooSel

Nanny ‘verse series by GotTheSilver

Pizza-Verse series by Closer

Rule 520.4 & New York Domestic Relations, Article 3, § 10 by machtaholic (cinderella81) [AU first meeting]

Rules of the Game series by snowstar [about the pain all non-canon shippers experience]

Schmoopy Boat Verse by sal_si_puedes

Shuffle Up and Deal by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)

Tattoo!Verse series by machtaholic (cinderella81)

A Truth So Loud by  tattooedsiren [fake marriage AU]

Whatever the Question by tattooedsiren [another fake marriage AU]

You Are the Bread to my Butter by Sway [chef AU]

You're Not the One (But You're the Only One) by ChristyCorr [angsty, but so good]

BDSM 

Baby Blues by surrenderdammit

Chocolate by writingtoreachyou

Claimed by Skara_Brae

The Drop by flitterflutterfly

Everything You Want series by ThatwasJustaDream [angsty af]

The Last Thirty Percent by TooSel

Needs Must by thatotherperv 

No Needles series by sal_si_puedes

Soulmate 

All About Us by wolfzaa

Be Thou My Rainbow by sal_si_puedes

Dulce et Decorum est (pro de amor mentiri) by mockturtletale [kind of soulmate]

Ignorantia Juris Non Excusat series by wolfzaa

Ink by machtaholic (cinderella81)

One More Sleepless Night by sal_si_puedes

The Touch by FrivolousSuits [kind of soulmate]

When Most I Wink by sal_si_puedes

Omega Verse

Imperfect Perfection by Skara_Brae

Matter Over Mind series by sal_si_puedes

Rain on Golden Leaves series by formalizing, rei_c

Silver Lining by FoxVII

The Strange Courtship of Mike Ross by Skara_Brae

Walk Away If You Can series by Blue_Five [angsty but so worth it]

[littlemisslol-fic]

All's fair in love and war. 

Heheh I had fun with this one! Today was inspired by my good friend Jigg who did a lot of absolutely hilarious drawings of Protective-Big-Brother-Eugene a month or so ago! I've always wanted to write something with that concept after she posted it, and bless I finally got my chance!! If you're not following her insta GO DO THAT YOU FOOL <3

@alistairwrites​ I had HELLA fun with this prompt today lmao

“You’re the love of my life.”

 “I know, you’re not very subtle.”

 There’s a pause, before Varian looks up from his book with an arched brow, waiting for Hugo to respond. Hugo, sitting on the other end of the couch, smiles with a sense of forced innocence. His feet twitch from their place on Varian’s lap; the smile grows more strained.

 “What’s your angle?” Varian asks, poking his nose back into his book. “Or, better question, what did you break?”

 “I’m heartbroken that you assume that of me! Goggles, please, how could you say that about me?”

 “Hugo.”

 “I want to mess with Rider.”

 Varian looks back up, noting the mischievous grin starting to split Hugo’s face. “Eugene?” He asks, “Why?”

 “Haven’t you seen him lately?” Hugo snickers, “Every time I get within three feet of you, he looks ready to burst a blood vessel.”

 Varian pauses to think, chewing on his lip. “Really?” He finally says, closing his book and tossing it onto a nearby table. “I didn’t notice…”

 And he hadn’t, not really. It had only been a few months since they’d come back from the library, hand in hand and ready to face the world together. Rapunzel had taken it well, but Eugene… well admittedly Eugene hadn’t taken the news of Varian dating an ex-associate of his with grace. The older man had very loudly demanded to know why Varian had to choose that one, as opposed to some nice, wholesome noble, but Varian hadn’t taken the bait. Because this one’s mine, he’d said to the man, and that had supposedly been the end of it.

 Supposedly.

 “Has he been saying things to you?” Varian asks, his tone dropping. “If he’s said something that wasn’t okay I can-”

 “No, no, nothing like that, Sweetcheeks.” Hugo’s hands fly up in a placating manner. “I just like to watch him get twitchy.”

 “Is that why you were hanging off of me after dinner last night?” Varian asks with a huff, thinking back to the sudden PDA of the night before. While Hugo was always one for contact, it had been excessive.

 “Testing the hypothesis.” Hugo nods, looking sage. Varian’s fully laughing now, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He can see Hugo bite his lip to keep from laughing too, but the tears in his eyes make the room swirl.

 “And-” The giggles grow uncontrollable. “And what were the results? Did you write them down? Make me a chart and present your findings.”

 “The results were very promising.” Hugo finally breaks, his own laughs joining Varian. The blond stretches, moving his feet so he can lean closer to his boyfriend. Varian lets Hugo enter his space, leaning up for a chaste kiss. “And he really did pull some amazingly offended faces when I touched your ass-”

 “Okay, that’s enough of that!” Varian near screams, shoving Hugo’s pouting face away from him. “No, no more, you ruined it.”

 “But if I asked-”

 “What’s in it for me?”

 Hugo pauses, thinking. “I’ll proclaim my eternal love for you?” He offers, to which Varian rolls his eyes.

 “You already do that daily.”

 “What about taking the trash panda for a walk?”

 “Ruddiger hates you.”

 Hugo grits his teeth, jaw tensing. Varian perks, giggling again as Hugo spits out the next words. The blond knows exactly what will get Varian to agree, much as it’s going to cost him.

 “What if I cleaned the beakers for the next week?”

 “Make it two.” Varian’s crying with laughter again, refusing to look at his devastated boyfriend lest he break entirely.

 “One and a half.”

 Varian wipes at his eyes, nodding. “Deal,” He gasps between laugh, forcing the words out. “Deal, deal.”

 Hugo leans forwards with a groan, using Varian’s lap as a pillow. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetcheeks,” the blond moans dramatically. “But I guess that’s why I love you.”

 “Damn straight.” Varian snickers, leaning down to press a kiss to Hugo’s head. The blond’s face lights up at the contact, a small blush scattering across pale cheeks. Varian does it again, just to see that smile grow.

 “Now, how are we going to play this?”

 They start small.

 Testing the waters, as Hugo had called it. Small things here and there, nothing really unusual for the two of them, to be honest. A glance here, a touch there, a kiss that lasted just a smidge too long. Varian kept half an eye on Eugene, noting with delight that Hugo was, in fact, right. The older man’s face was constantly contorted into either disgust or rage every time Varian and Hugo got a little too close to each other, the man glaring at Hugo consistently when he thought Varian wasn’t looking.

 Hypothesis confirmed, they’d taken it up a notch.

 “You’re my everything,” Varian coos from his spot half-on-half-off of Hugo’s lap. “I love you more than life itself.”

 His boyfriend bites his lip to keep from laughing, reaching up to cup Varian’s face with both his hands. “You’re my sun and moon,” Hugo plays up the last few words with a kiss to Varian’s nose, nearly bursting out laughing when it scrunches.

 From the corner of his eye, Varian can see Eugene’s hands twitch.

 They’re in the library, Varian, Hugo, Eugene, and Rapunzel. The evil of the week had crawled out from under whatever rock it had been living beneath, and Rapunzel had asked for Varian’s help to try and stop it- but that didn’t stop the alchemist from seizing the chance to mess with his big brother. Multitasking was something he prides himself on, of course.

 Varian and Hugo snuggle close on an ornate chaise together, nearly plastered together in a way that makes Rapunzel squeal and Eugene rage.

 “Wanna tone down the PDA, goggles?” He grumps, flipping though a book roughly. “Go be gross somewhere else, if you’re not going to help-”

 “Oh, Eugene.” Rapunzel chastises from her perch on a nearby chair. “Just let them have their fun, they’re not hurting anyone.”

 “They’re hurting my soul.” Varian hears Eugene grumble to himself, and has to push a giggle into Hugo’s shoulder. The blond isn’t much better- and Hugo’s always been one to push the limits. Varian feels hands slip down from his face and onto his hips; the grip is still chaste, but solid as Hugo pulls him close and hooks his chin over Varian’s head.

 “You’re the light of my life,” Hugo proclaims, “My heart, my soul-”

 “I’ve loved you since the moment we met!” Varian pumps his words with drama, flinging his arms around Hugo’s shoulders and holding tight. “Since I laid eyes on you-”

 “You’re my everything.” Hugo… sounds a little more serious this time. Varian pauses, looking into somber, green eyes. “I owe you so much more than I can ever give.”

“I love you.” Varian says into Hugo’s shoulder, ignoring how Eugene makes a noise like an angry cat. “So much.”

 “I love you too,” Hugo murmurs. Varian feels a kiss pressed into the top of his head, sighing at the contact. Something in him warms; even if they’re just playing up the schmoopy garbage to annoy Eugene, it’s still nice to hear affirmations of love from his boyfriend.

 “Okay, that’s it!” Eugene shouts, slamming his book down. It startles everyone else in the room, all of them looking at the grumpy man. “Goggles, glasses, with me, c’mon.” He points an accusatory finger at the two on the couch before roughly pushing back from the table. He stalks deeper into the library, not looking back to see if they follow. Varian chances a glance towards Rapunzel, who only shrugs with a what can you do expression on her face.

 Varian sighs and gets up as well, holding out a hand to help Hugo up. “I think we might have pushed too far.” He mutters, gripping tightly to Hugo’s hand.

 “Nah,” Hugo grins, an easy, simple thing. “He’s just being a sourpuss.”

 Varian can’t help but snicker again, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but it’s not going to matter when he stabs you.”

 “I will take my stabbing with grace if it means I get to stay with you.” Hugo simpers, his face twisted in an over-the-top pout. The shorter boy shoves him away with a laugh, turning down the row of shelves he’d seen Eugene disappear into.

 The man stands there, arms crossed, tapping his foot with a put-upon expression. Varian’s hand goes a little tight as it grips Hugo’s, just enough to give away his stress at the sight of how aggravated Eugene is. There’s an awkward silence for at least half a minute, the older man glaring at the two alchemists, who remain quiet.

 “Why are we here, exactly?” Hugo finally cracks the silence in half. Varian steps on his foot with a glare, shaking his head as Eugene’s face grows darker.

 “I need another book.” The man grumbles, “And I don’t trust you not to be weird while alone with Rapunzel.”

 “Eugene it’s not like that,” Varian sighs, “We’re just mess-”

 “Book. Please.” Eugene grunts, gesturing to a tall ladder on rolling wheels. It’s closest to Varian, so the youngest of the three rolls his eyes and drops Hugo’s hand, climbing up the ladder with a grumble that’s sounds suspiciously like stupid old man before he’s too far up to be heard anymore.

 And that’s when Eugene strikes.

 “Hands off of goggles, capiche?” The man jabs a finger into Hugo’s chest. “I know he likes you for now, but hands. Off.”

 “Or what?” Hugo challenges, delighting in how Eugene turns a wonderful shade of purple. “We both know you can’t do shit while Varian’s-”

 A sudden shriek cuts them off. Both their heads snap upwards just in time to watch Varian’s foot slip off the rung of the ladder, the boy dropping like a stone. Hugo’s got his arms out before he can think, lunging forwards-

 A body slams into his own-

 Eugene and Hugo, having slammed into each other when both had tried for a catch, tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs and shouted curses. Hugo feels a sudden pain flair up his side-

 Varian’s cry cuts off with a strangled noise as he falls directly on top of the two men tangled together on the floor. Hugo and Eugene shout as Varian’s weight hits them, both of them losing any sort of air they might have had in their lungs. The three lie together on the floor, groaning at the various aches and pains, breathing heavily. Varian’s the first to move, rolling off the pile with a small wince. Hugo’s up like a shot, borderline scrambling towards his boyfriend with barely contained worry.

“Shit- you good, goggles?” He stumbles over the words just like he stumbles over Eugene’s legs, pale hands flying up to cup Varian’s face. Varian nods quickly, his own hands reaching for Hugo’s shoulders.

“Fine, fine, I’m okay,” Varian says quickly, “Are you-”

 “I’m good,” Hugo sighs, “By the Maker, that was a hell of a drop, are you sure…?”

 A sudden groan from the floor has both boys looking towards Eugene, the man still lying prone on the hardwood.

 “I’m okay too,” The man says, not looking up from where his face is pressed into the floorboards. “Thanks for asking.”

 Varian has the heart to look sheepish, though Hugo just glares. Eugene doesn’t seem to want to move, even when Varian slinks closer to offer an olive branch in the form of a hand to help him up.

 “C’mon, Eugene.” Varian says, “We’ll stop, if it’s really a big enough deal-”

 Hugo makes an offended noise. Varian shoots him a look. Eugene grumbles, shaking his head.

 “Why, of all the eligible bachelors, did you pick that one?” He says, less asking Varian and more bemoaning the universe as a whole. Varian bites his lip to keep from laughing, offering a pat of consolation to Eugene’s shoulder.

 “Because I like that one.” Varian wheedles, “Just like Rapunzel likes you.”

 Eugene pauses. He finally turns his head, making a noise that sounds like a drawn out, whiney, ehhhhhhhhhhhh noise. Varian’s shoulders hitch in a laugh, the alchemist biting his knuckle. “That’s a low blow, kid.” The man grumbles, glaring at the boy without much fire.

 “But?” Oh, Varian’s enjoying this.

 “But I guess I can leave you and glasses alone- if you promise to tone down the gross lovey stuff.”

 “That can be arranged-” Varian agrees, just as Hugo butts in with a “I promise nothing.”

 Varian sighs, but smiles as Eugene takes his hand. A look at Hugo has the blond grabbing Eugene’s other arm, the two alchemists helping the older man to his feet.

 “You’re both heathens.” Eugene grumbles, fixing his hair with the pout. “And I hate you.”

 “The feeling’s mutual.” Hugo mutters. “And your hair’s thinning.”

 “Hi guys!” Rapunzel’s head pokes around the corner, a bright smile taking over. All of their spines go ramrod straight, the three of them snapping to attention. “Stop your lollygagging, we can’t keep waiting around!”

 When she disappears around the corner, they all slump with a sigh. “Can we put a pin in this?” Varian asks, following the princess. “You two can hate each other after the kingdom’s safe.”

 When he disappears around the corner, the two men glare at each other once more.

 “Truce?” Eugene asks through grit teeth.

 “For now.” Hugo replies, tense as a bowstring.

 For now would have to do.

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: So, This is Christmas

Tags: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Original Characters, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Season/Series 15, This Fic Ain’t What You Think It’s Gonna Be, Angst, A Little Too Real, and Not a Smut in Sight, happy holidays, i guess,

Summary: Dean, and the angel Castiel, spend Christmas Eve serving food at a local soup kitchen.

Written by: @queerwolfsstuff​​ (queerwerewolf)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641707

Notes: I bet y'all were expecting a lovey, mushy, schmoopy floofy, fluff fest for this Destiel advent calendar? What have we been telling you guys all along?

Day 2 - So, This is Christmas

Things weren’t great. Were they better? Sure, but they weren’t great. Sam had convinced Cas to move back to the bunker. There was planning to do, and the odds of survival were higher together. Cas hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to Dean since he got back, and they were usually, “I’m running errands.”

Dean had gotten into a habit he couldn’t break, demanding where Cas was going, to be met with those clipped words before Cas stormed out. Dean never expected Cas to come back, and every time the angel did… He hated how conflicted he was about it.

The anger was easier, it was easier than addressing any of the other emotions the angel caused. And while it was easier, it was also forcing them into this stalemate, neither one moving forward to finish the game.

These so-called errands happened a couple times a week. Dean knew there were no errands. Cas was up to something, and whether good or bad, Dean didn’t know. But when  Dean didn’t know, shit usually went sideways. So he brought his concerns up to Sam, and got bitched out and told to drop it in return. So sneaking around was out of the question.

Instead, Dean decided to try something a little different… directness.

It was Christmas Eve, and Cas was purposely looking straight ahead as he walked through the library, passing Dean, who had his legs kicked up on a table, spinning a beer in his palm. “Where are you going?” It was almost robotic now.

Without missing a beat, Cas said, “Running errands.”

Dean swung his legs down, followed by the sound of the metal chair legs colliding with the concrete. “Bullshit.”

Cas spun around, brow quirked as he regarded Dean for the first time in over a week. “Excuse me?”

Dean moved to stand up, crossing his arms over his chest as he approached. “I said, ‘bullshit.’ Bullshit you’re running errands. What possible errands could you be running on Christmas Eve?”

That was met with an eye roll before Cas turned his back to Dean. Cas silently made his way to the stairwell, so Dean grabbed his jacket and followed him.

Cas sighed as he grabbed the railing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I need to run errands too. Figured I could tag along.”

Cas was halfway up the stairs and huffed out a soft, “No.”

Dean caught up to him and gripped his forearm. “Why not?”

“Because,” he started as he whipped around to face Dean, twisting his arm out of Dean’s grasp. “I am not actually ‘running errands,’” he said, complete with air quotes.

He knew it! Now Dean needed to figure out what Cas was up to. “Then what are you doing?”

Cas regarded Dean for a moment, face expressionless as he appeared to evaluate the situation. “Does it mean that much to you to know where I’ve been going?”

Far from backing down now, Dean straightened his posture and said, “Yes.”

Cas shrugged and turned back around before ascending the stairs. When he reached the landing, he looked down at Dean expectantly. “Are you coming?”

…. :::: :::: ….

The ride over, in Cas’s newly acquired VW bus, was painfully silent. Dean realized early on they were headed into town, but refrained from asking. He kept sliding his thumb over the handle of his Sig.

When they pulled up to a building near the church, Dean furrowed his brow. The lights were bright on the mostly dark, closed down street. Large windows with fake snow painted along the edges gave a view of dozens of people, more people than he thought this town had, standing in line in, what looked like, a makeshift cafeteria.

Cas slamming the door shut shook Dean out of his bemused haze as he unbuckled the lap belt and slipped out of the hippie van. Before Dean could say anything, a young woman with curly black hair and a bright smile approached Cas and pulled him in for a hug.

“Clarence! We could really use your help tonight.”

Cas laughed, a genuine and appreciative sound Dean hadn’t heard in way too damn long. “Kristianna, is everything alright?”

She shook her head. “Two of the volunteers ended up sick with the flu, so we had to send them home.”

That was met with a serious nod as he pointed to Dean. “I brought my friend. We can put him on dishes and pull Erica to the serving line.”

Kristianna appeared relieved as she nodded. “Awesome. Can you show him around real quick, I’ll go grab him an apron and gloves from storage.”

Cas flashed her an affirmative smile and nodded for Dean to follow him inside. As Cas played tour guide, it finally clicked where they were. Shit. Dean didn’t realize just how many homeless people lived in this little county.

When they reached the back kitchen, Kristianna was waiting for them, holding out an apron for Dean. “It’s pretty simple,” she said as she began to go over each step of the process. Load the rack. Rinse the big gunk off. Place in the industrial washer. Rinse and repeat.

Dean was listening, but he found himself a little mesmerized by Cas. He was chatting with another volunteer, a taller woman with long red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She laughed at whatever Cas said while he pulled off his trenchcoat and started rolling up his shirt sleeves.

When he looked up again, their eyes met. Cas flashed him a small smile before he turned and left the back kitchen. Kristianna handed Dean the hose and patted his shoulder before departing with an encouraging smile. Dean let out a soft, mirthless laugh and shook his head.

The guilt wasn’t an instant avalanche, it was more of a slow methodical build up as he spent his time alone washing and drying dozens and dozens of dishes. The work kept him focused, while he berated himself for… hell… everything. Berating and admitting that maybe… maybe Dean clung to the anger because Cas still hadn’t acknowledged what Dean prayed to him.

The anger was because he was hurt. Was because he told Cas what he felt… how he felt, how Cas had changed everything for Dean and he didn’t know how to cope with that change. How to process an emotion he’d buried for many years. And then Cas came back, and didn’t say a damn thing. The longer he ignored Dean, the worse it got.

Dean scoffed as he pulled the clean rack of dishes out. Maybe he was pissed over something that never happened. Maybe Cas never got the prayer. Maybe Dean had been treating his best friend like crap for too damn long.

Because that best friend was apparently the kind of guy that, while there was a pissed off fanboy playing puppeteer with them, still gave his time to people in need. To people who were impacted by the cruelty of this world long before Chuck threw in zombies, and ghosts, and all the other cliche crap.

Cas spent his free time here, making a positive difference in his own little corner of the world, and Dean had never felt like a bigger asshole in his life.

…. :::: :::: ….

Kristianna let out a huff of laughter as she locked up the door, yanking on the chain. “I’m so glad we were able to give people seconds and left overs.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “I appreciate the generosity of this time of year. We haven’t run out of food all month.”

As the murmurings of agreement turned into hugs and departures with a, “Merry Christmas,” and, “Happy Holidays,” on everyone’s lips, Cas faced Dean and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you for your help tonight.”

Dean shook his head in amazement. “Why didn’t you just tell me this was what you were doing?”

Cas let out a soft sigh and shook his head as he started walking to his car. “Can we call a truce, just for tonight?”

Dean gently halted him with a grasp on his wrist. “Did you hear me?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

Did you hear me when I prayed to you?

The flash of understanding was answer enough. Cas turned from Dean and let out a soft sigh. “A truce, please,” Cas urged as he made no attempt to get away.

And despite the urge to demand answers, Dean released his grip on Cas’s wrist. With a soft sigh, Dean took a step back. “Okay. Truce.”

Cas looked up, expression clearly surprised that Dean agreed. He caught the small twitch of Cas’s lips before his expression was serious again. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean nodded and followed him back to the stoner van. As Cas pulled out his keys, they locked eyes through the windows of each side. Dean exhaled his breath to fog up his window and used his finger to write,

“saC, samtsirhC yrreM”

That got him a broad smile and audible laugh before Cas exhaled on his window and wrote,

“It’s backwards”

When they met again on the inside, Dean clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder and said, “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Cas looked down at the placement of Dean’s hand for a moment before he braced his own over Dean’s. With a gentle squeeze, Cas returned a soft, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

war is over if you want it, war is over

[sethrine-writes]

Lay Me Down Gently

Fandom:  Devil May Cry 5

Pairing:  V x F!Reader

Words:  2493

Warnings:  Sexual themes, Sex, Spicy stuff, High school AU

Commission Request:  900 words, fluffy first-time sex, mostly clothed sex, super intimate (hand holding, hugging, just schmoopy sex), lots of reassurances and some awkwardness.

A/N:  This is a commission for the positively lovely @fivetail, and it takes place in our upcoming high school au, Curriculum Vita(l)e! Thank you so much for commissioning me, dear! It’s always a delight, and my too much gene likes to kick in something fierce with your ideas.

Important Note:  While this is written in a high school setting, both V and the Reader are of-age, consenting individuals, despite them being students. If you are unable to grasp this information, please turn away, as this may not be the hot tamale of a fic you’re looking for.

------

The moment wasn’t planned, neither you nor V having figured there would be any modicum of privacy to be had, once you made it back to his house. There was some studying to do for next week’s big test, anyways, and his place was much closer to the school than yours was. Besides that, you adored his wacky little family, the endless teasing from his uncle and the vigilant, almost imposing presence of his father (who only meant well, of course, and was actually rather lovely, once you got to talking to him without feeling your life was in peril from just his stare).

Oddly enough, no one seemed to be home when you arrived, of which was confirmed by a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen island –Dante’s penmanship, V was quick to point out- proclaiming both uncle and father had some business to take care of and wouldn’t be home until late. Nero, too, hadn’t come home, though you knew before leaving school grounds that he had rugby practice as well as plans to hang out with Kyrie soon after.

It was only natural progression, then, that V pulled you to him and leaned in to scramble your brain with a stupidly sweet kiss, lips gentle and firm and lingering for much longer than just a quick little declaration of his affection for you should have without being on the side of indecent.

“I’ve been eager to do that all day,” he confessed when pulling away, smiling just on the side of cheekily at the dazed look on your face.

“Is, ah…is that, you know, the only thing? That you’ve been eager to do, that is,” you voiced, attempting at being teasing, but sounding more nervous than anything

“There are a few things, perhaps,” he answered, and though he was able to say so with conviction, you could see in the pink of his cheeks that you had flustered him greatly by your own words. There was accomplishment in that, at least, and it had you smiling and leaning up to kiss him just as sweetly.

Your simple kiss turned into more of a complex one, with tongues tangling and hands grabbing at each other through the simmering heat that both of you shared. It was hardly a wonder you soon found yourself in the comfort of his room, door closed despite the empty house, giddily excited for no other reason than for just being with each other.

Your blazer was shed quickly, but it was the only thing V seemed patient enough to allow, as he was quick to whisk you onto the bed, pulling you into his lap with near trembling hands against your thighs. He lingered there for a long time, even as you continued kissing rather vehemently, his long fingers stroking at the exposed skin not covered by your pleated skirt or thigh-high stockings. It was a wonder the fabric stayed put, considering the heft of your thighs, but it apparently made them all the more enticing to V as he stroked at the edge of the stockings, fingers just barely dipping between.

V touching you, alone, was enough to make him damn near whimper against your lips, the sound alarmingly pleasing to your ears.

He remained idle in his exploration, content with stroking against your skin even as you moved your kisses down the lovely pale expanse of his neck, fingers clumsily rucking up his dress shirt and sweater vest so that you could press your palms against his bare torso. His skin was smooth, and the tiny little hitches in his breath were more than expected when your palms passed over the expanse of it.

Your fiery kisses against him began to gentle after some time, and when you pulled back to gaze into those lovely green eyes you so enjoyed, you were struck with just how much you really were falling for him. V was gazing at you adoringly, one of his hands coming up to push some of your hair behind your ear as he smiled gently, and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at the small action.

Oh, God, but you loved him.

“H-hey, V? I think…I think I’m ready,” you voiced, stammering even as you were sure your words were true.

For a brief moment, V looked confused by what you meant, and it was rather sweet that he was more than content with having you like you were, with kisses and little touches and imposing on nothing more. Even sweeter was the look of realization upon his face when you reiterated your statement, putting a much heavier emphasis on your words.

“Oh,” he said simply, flushed cheeks coloring even further. “Oh, you mean…and you’re certain that you’re ready?”

“Well, yeah. I mean…i-if you wanted to. If you are, then I’m ready. I want to.”

V’s gaze never left yours as you did your best to voice what you wanted, knowing you were just as flustered as he was. It was a lot to take in, and so suddenly, too, but everything about that moment was just right. There’s wasn’t anything special about the day or the place, but it felt special to you, and you hoped that maybe V was feeling the same way.

The kiss he shared with you next was answer enough, but he was sure to voice his desire to you as soon as he pulled away.

“It would be my utmost pleasure.”

From that point, everything felt more surreal. Rough hands and heated kisses were building up to something more, and the reality of the situation had you aching in the most decadent of ways.

Wandering fingers found their way up your skirt in a very short amount of time, and the gasp you let loose was silenced by V’s want to devour you whole with his kisses. When he finally did pull away, you were immediate in hiding your face in the crook of his neck, a keening breath leaving you as wicked, talented fingers pushed aside cotton panties in order to delve into the heat of your body.

“I have you, my little lion,” he murmured against your ear, the same comfort he was always ready to grace your ears with when he was on the giving end of your pleasurable escapades. All the same, you were moaning against him at the sentiment, thighs trembling and hips moving of their own accord against his hand.

Maybe it was your perception of the moment, anticipation of what was to come, but you were nearing that precipice much quicker than you ever had before. V’s constant reassurances and gentle praises into your ear were helping you along, that familiar tingling growing and growing, and before you knew it, your orgasm was washing over you, sending your nerve endings alight with sensation and forcing a near-shout to pass your lips as you clung to the very thing keeping you grounded and sending you soaring.

When you were more aware of your surroundings, breaths coming out in short pants against V’s neck, you pulled back a bit and looked at him with a stunned, confused expression.

“V? I…I thought we-?”

A startled shout escaped you as your position was suddenly flipped, your back landing on the soft bedding rather gently as V towered over you with every bit the look of a predator capturing his prey. His eyes were blown wide, beautiful green obscured by dark pupils and lusty intentions. He pressed his body against yours, hips grinding down, and you were very aware of just how eager your boyfriend still was.

“I wanted to please you, first,” he said, and you were aware of the rasp to his voice, the utterly wrecked quality it possessed just from having given you pleasure, “and now that I have, I’m afraid I’m much too eager to continue, if you’ll still have me.”

You took a page from his book and tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling him down into a sultry kiss that made clear your want for him. He reacted by all but sinking against you, body pressed as close as was possible as his hips continued their eager grinding against your own. The motion was sending little frissons of pleasure throughout your sensitive body, tiny little shocks that had your legs trembling once more.

V’s hands were all over you once more, large palms skirting across your still-clothed breasts and giving them a squeeze before continuing farther and farther downward. There was a moment he pulled away, albeit reluctantly, from your kisses to hike your skirt up about your hips, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your breathless form, much to your embarrassment.

Slowly, he reached for your underwear, pulling at the sides and carefully removing them from your stocking-clad legs. That he was making a conscious effort to leave your stockings in place had you blushing anew, hands coming up and balling against your eyes in an expected mix of bashfulness and eager anticipation. He chuckled lightly, but the reassuring pressure of his hands squeezing at your thighs was comforting and familiar.

The next few moments were a blur in your hazy mind. There was the clinking sound of V’s belt, followed by the zipper and a shaky sigh. There was warmth against you, the heat of intimate joining that had you arching up and gasping out, of which had V fumbling for a moment, if the misguided heat of his cock against your bare leg was anything to go by. You giggled lightly at that before your breath caught in your throat, the pressure of his entry an overwhelming sensation for what felt like forever until he was, finally, utterly still against you.

Your hands were removed from your face with gentle prodding, fingers suddenly entangled with long, elegant ones. Almost blearily, you opened your eyes to find V hovering above you, his hair a dark veil around you, shielding your view from everything but him.

“Are you alright, my lion?” he asked, voice just above a whisper as his hands flexed against yours in a gentle squeeze. It took a moment for you to gather your senses, but you squeezed back reassuringly, smile shaky and warm.

“I’m…I’m good. You have me, right? And I have you, too.”

That answer earned you a languid kiss that nearly stole your breath in the best of ways.

After a moment, V pulled back, lips barely brushing yours, and gave a slow thrust of his hips forward. Your reaction was immediate, a quiet gasp and the fluttering of your lashes. He tested the motion once more, pulling back slowly and thrusting against you, earning the same reaction. The groan V let loose was positively sinful, the sound causing you to clench around him as he started a steady pace that stuttered several times in its creation.

The sensations weren’t much, at first, just a smooth glide from within that felt right, and the longer V continued to move against you, the more you were beginning to feel. You shifted your legs after a few minutes, knees coming up as you used one leg to wrap around V and pull him closer, and suddenly, you were keening high in your throat at the shocks of pleasure zipping up your spin.

V groaned and began moving faster, his head dropping to your shoulder as little pants escaped his lips. He let go of one of your hands to grab at your hip, and you were quick to keep him close by threading your shaking fingers in his dark tresses once more. The new angle, coupled with V’s need to move just a bit faster, just a bit harder, had you gasping and moaning incomprehensible things.

“P-ple-…please, I…V!”

You didn’t know what it was you wanted, but V was agreeing with you, regardless, little punched out sounds and an affirming chorus of, “Yes…yes!”

At some point, you had abandoned holding his hand in favor of wrapping your arms around him, trembling fingers gripping at the back of his blazer, his hair, back to his blazer as you tried to find some semblance of an anchor.

V was not lost on the sentiment, his long arms coming around your body to pull you close as his hips clumsily continued, not really pulling out anymore, but continuing to grind in jerky motions. The movement brought on a whole new slew of pleasure, a new form of stimulation against your clit that had you nearly seeing stars and shouting your praises. Your noises egged him on, had V groaning and kissing sloppily at your neck as his short nails dug into the fabric of your dress shirt.

It wasn’t clear what sent you over the edge, but the pleasure was insurmountable. Your very being trembled and exposed itself in that moment, your mind reaching a place of nirvana as V laid you open from the inside out. For a good long minute, you were barely aware of much else but the thrumming of your body and how it seemed to continue forever.

V was still moving against you when you were more present to the moment, his groans desperate as his bony hips stuttered into yours incessantly. Your fingers were still in his hair, his mouth still against your skin, and it was perfect.

“I’ve got you, V,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his face and giving light, overstimulated little noises that seemed to finally get him where he needed.

With a shout, he tensed against you, teeth unintentionally digging into your shoulder and forcing a short cry from your lips. A new sensation of warmth flooded your insides, and it was all you could do not to tremble delightedly at the thought. As it was, V was trembling enough for you, overwhelmed by the feeling of your body joined with his.

For several long minutes, there was nothing more than the sound of your labored breaths and the pounding of your hammering heart slowing into a steady beat within your chest.

When V finally lifted his face from your shoulder, his lovely gaze met yours with a look of absolute adoration, an almost dopey smile playing at his impossibly plush lips. It was such a different expression that you didn’t ever recall seeing, but you were more than eager to recreate as often as you could.

“That was…unexpected,” he said, voice laced with fatigue and a hint of amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the action apparently contagious enough to have V chuckling above you.

“Definitely unexpected,” you countered, fingers gentle as they pushed the hair from his sweaty forehead, “but it felt right.”

V hummed in agreement, leaning over you once more to place sweet, gentle kisses against your lips. This time, there wasn’t any rush to the sweet caresses, tongues prodding lips and exploring each other with no real goal other than because you could.

Unplanned, but perfect, nonetheless.