#answering this ask + hitting a trope bingo box

[riddlerosehearts]

SHIP BINGO TIME- I'LL GIVE YOU A FEW! FloydRiddle (your fave~), JadeAzul, and I'll toss in my fave, too, for funsies. AceRiddle.

floyd/riddle:

okay first i'll just say that the main reason i circled "sending them to superhell" was because i had already circled so many other boxes that adding that one got me a bingo. but also, they should go to superhell because they're ridiculous. floyd is ridiculous. he could just tell riddle he thinks he's cool and admires his strength but instead he affectionately picks on him and like. riles him up to get him to stop being sad. why is he like that (i love him).

no but actually they hit on so many tropes i love with their whole enemies/rivals to lovers, red and blue, fire and water, order and chaos, opposites attract deal. they have SO much potential and i have so much brainrot over them. i love how the whole reason their rivalry started was because floyd got blasted through the air by this tiny little guy and instantly fell in love felt intrigued by him, because there weren't many people who were stronger than him back home. and how most people are (rightfully) scared of floyd but riddle genuinely does not see him as a threat, he just thinks his teasing is kind of annoying akjdfsgsdg. and i think that if they could actually just like talk to each other like normal people they could get along and balance each other out really well. unfortunately, and i say this affectionately, they do not know how to be normal. and now i'm rambling so let's move on haha

jade/azul:

basically jade/azul isn't my favorite ship, but i'm a multishipper so i still really like it. i wish i had more to say about them hsfjgkfd but i love the octatrio and love jade and azul's dynamic, they're just a really fun and sweet friends to lovers ship!! i circled "relationship goals" because they just have such a deep bond and clearly have so much trust and respect for each other and i love that for them. also, this might be a localization-only thing but one time in the halloween event jade called azul "my dear azul" and i think that was pretty gay of him.

ace/riddle:

if you had asked me this a while back my answers would've been different because i used to only really like them platonically and couldn't see it in a romantic sense. but now thanks to you they've grown on me lol. again, still not my favorite ship, but i'm a multishipper and i think this is a fun one, and i love how much you love it! they've got a bit of the same order/chaos and opposites attract vibe as floyd and riddle, and ace is very important to riddle's development in book 1! also ngl the idea of riddle developing a crush on ace and being all flustered around him because of it is really cute to me. and it's so sweet how riddle praises ace's skills and puts his trust in him in the fairy gala remix event.

[timelesslords]

fluff 3 or fluff 10 please!!! (i love all ur fics sm)

ty <3! I went with a very loose interpretation of fluff 10 (are we on a date right now?) for this one lol

send me a sentence starter and I’ll fill it for Percabeth

“Are we on a date right now?”

“We’re on a mission right now. Focus, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy had sort of known that already, but if this was genuinely a mission and not a date, Annabeth wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. She was wearing a white summer dress, short and flowy, patterned with tiny cherries. The light fabric contrasted with her tan skin, making it seem to glow gold in the sunlight. Her long curly hair tumbled free over her shoulders, out of its usual practical ponytail.

Of course, she had an imperial gold knife strapped to her thigh under her skirt, but that didn’t negate the impracticality of the outfit otherwise. Not that Percy was complaining— she looked gorgeous. Still, it left him a little confused. 

“But we are like, on a date,” Percy said. 

“We’re pretending to be on a date,” Annabeth corrected. 

It was a sunny California day, and they were sitting on an outdoor patio of a restaurant. A restaurant that was in the mortal world, not New Rome, and although Percy had been debriefed beforehand, he was having trouble seeing exactly where the date ended and mission began. 

“You’re my girlfriend,” Percy pointed out. 

“So?” 

“So doesn’t that make this fake date a real date?”  

“No,” Annabeth said shortly, taking a sip of her sweet tea. Her straw was already stained with the lipstick she was wearing, red to match the cherries on her dress.

“I’m confused,” Percy admitted.  

“I explained this before we left.”

“And I was as confused then as I am now.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, long and hard. Gods, she was hot when she was annoyed at him. Which was a very dangerous thought to have, because if she wasn’t he might be more careful about antagonizing her. 

“We’re pretending to be on this nice lunch date so that we can keep an eye on that server over there,” Annabeth said, tilting her head surreptitiously towards one of the waiters dealing with a table to their right, a kid with dark hair who looked maybe 16. 

“Who might be a half-blood,” Percy remembered. He had been paying some attention when she explained it earlier. 

“Right.”

“Wouldn’t bringing the two of us here drive out any monsters that are here?” Percy asked, frowning, “I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’ve been told I smell tasty.” 

“That’s kind of the idea,” Annabeth said, taking another sip of tea. 

“You didn’t mention that before we left,” Percy said, only a touch accusatory.  

And, okay, he probably should have seen this coming. If there was a monster stalking the kid, which given his age, was likely, Percy and Annabeth’s presence would be enough to draw it out. Then they could get rid of it and send the kid along to whatever camp he was suited for. It was very up Annabeth’s alley, what with its kill-two-birds-with-one-stone approach.

“You hadn’t gotten that far,” Annabeth said. If she was bothered by Percy’s tone, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked like she was trying not to laugh.  

“Hadn’t gotten that far in what?” Percy asked, playing along. 

“In understanding the plan,” Annabeth said. 

“You made this convoluted on purpose,” Percy said, grinning, and now it was a genuine accusation— an amused one, but an accusation all the same. Annabeth just shrugged innocently. 

“It’s not my fault good plans are complex sometimes,” she said.  

“Were you just counting on me thinking this was a date so I would agree to go?” Percy asked. 

“No,” Annabeth said, though her eyes flickered away from his for just a second. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Percy said, affectionately.

“No I’m not,” Annabeth rebuffed, bristling, “I specifically told you before we left that this was a fake date.” 

“I would have gone anyway,” Percy said. It was true. He would probably go anywhere Annabeth asked him to, but a simple recon mission to pick up a possible half-blood really was no sweat. Even if monsters were involved.

“It was easier this way,” Annabeth said. She was fighting to keep the smile off her face now, he could see the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Easier for you,” Percy said, grinning openly. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to make it easier for you,” Annabeth said, smile finally breaking through. 

“So you lured me on the promise of a nice date out with my girlfriend and instead I’m sitting here as monster bait,” Percy said, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.  

“I lured you out with the promise of a fake date,” Annabeth amended, “And I mentioned everything but the monsters beforehand.”

“You could’ve mentioned the monsters.”

Annabeth shrugged again, unconcerned.

“I knew you would get there eventually.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime babe.” 

“I really would have come anyway.” 

“I know, that’s why I didn’t feel bad. It was just more fun this way,” Annabeth said, smiling around the straw of her drink.

“For you,” Percy said, though he was smiling too. 

“I like watching you figure out my plans,” Annabeth said,   

Percy raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, do you?” 

Annabeth flushed a little at that, but unfortunately did not have a chance to respond. At that exact moment there was a loud crash a few tables over, a piercing scream rippling through the air. Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look.

“Looks like our date is over,” Percy sighed, pulling Riptide out of his pocket.

“Fake date,” Annabeth corrected, knife already in hand.

“Raincheck for a real one?” he asked, uncapping his sword. She flashed him a grin. 

“Always.” 

[thatesqcrush]

Three Words

For Holiday! Bingo: Naughty & Nice - candycane. Rafael Barba x Rockette!Reader. CW: candy cane sugary fluff. 

WC: 1.5K

**

It all started at the doctor’s office. Rafael was overdue for his physical with his heavy caseload at the DA’s office. But he had grown annoyed at the constant reminder calls and mailers from the doctor’s office. He had a rare day off and he decided to use that day for it - to get it over with.

**

“Rafael for a man your age, you shouldn’t have blood pressure this high. You need to stress less.”

Rafael looked at his doctor with an incredulous look. “I wish I had a less stressful job.”

That earned a chuckle from the doctor. “Have you ever tried yoga? Meditation?”

“Do I look like the yoga type?”

“How about running?”

Rafael tilted his head and pursed his lips. He let out a sigh. “I could give it a go again.”

“And more green things. Less things in takeout containers.” The doctor further advised.

“Just don’t tell me to give up my coffee. That would be a crime in and of itself.” Rafael groaned.

**

As a result, Rafael found himself running loops at Central Park the following weekend. He huffed up hill, determined to get to the top. And he did. He was soaked with sweat, his Harvard t-shirt soaked to the bone. He decided to take a break to stretch his calves, which he could feel knotting up. He found a nearby bench and perched his leg on the bench seat, almost oblivious that you were using the bench also to stretch.

“That hill is such a bitch.” You remarked, which earned a look from Rafael.

Rafael looked over at you. His breath hitched at the sight of you. You were very pretty. He swallowed hard at the sight of you in bike shorts and a tank-top. Nary a drop of sweat was on you. “Take it that you run here often.”

“Every other day.”

“Why would you do that?” Rafael asked, his brow cocked. He switched legs and stretched the other.

“Because I have rehearsals soon.” You explained, adjusting your headband. The man before you was extremely attractive, albeit a bit sweaty. Your mind wickedly wondered about him being sweaty over you during some other kind of exercise.

“Rehearsals?” Rafael stretched his hamstring, lifting his leg and reaching behind. “Broadway? TV?”

You blinked and shook your head out of your reverie. A smile twitched on your face. “No. I’m a Rockette.”

Rafael’s jaw dropped. “A Rockette?”

“Yup. It’s summer, but we get ready for Christmas now. I perform twice a day, six days a week. I need to keep my endurance up.” You reached for your water and chugged some water. Rafael swallowed hard as a drop of water spilled out and you licked your lips trying to catch it. “My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Rafael Barba.” He extended his hand and you shook it, feeling a spark shoot to your core. You had butterflies in your stomach.

You jutted your head towards the path Rafael had just run up. “If you think Cat Hill sucks, wait ‘til you get to the Harlem Hills. Woof.”

“Great.” Rafael bemoaned.

“Know why they call it Cat Hill?” You asked. Rafael shook his head.

“There’s a statue of a cat about to pounce. So just think about that when you up the hill next time. Don’t get eaten by the cat.”

Rafael laughed. “Duly noted."

“Well Rafael Barba. Good luck with the run. Maybe I will see you around again.” You gave him a wink before jogging off. Rafael watched you take off and he smiled when he saw you turn around and wave him over, jogging in in place. He wasted no time jogging up to you, his energy now renewed.

**

You and Rafael hit it off instantly. You were both tickled that you lived in the same neighborhood – within walking distance of each other. He would tell you stories of inside the courtroom and you would regale him with stories about rehearsals. Many times you would show him sneaks of various numbers. At one point you did an eye-high kick and almost kicked the prosecutor in the face. It resulted him diving into the bed to avoid it and you were in stitches at the near-hit. As you bent over in a fit of giggles, Rafael got up and wrapped his arms around you, carrying you to the bed with a squeal. You were still laughing when Rafael climbed over you. Your laughter subsided and there was an electric charge in the room.

“You’re incredible.” Rafael whispered, staring at you with intensity. “I’m so lucky to have met you.” He brushed your hair back from your face.

“Me too.” You whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

**

The summer heat changed to wintry cold. Your relationship with Rafael was still going strong. Rafael was in his office when Carmen gently knocked. “Mr. Barba – this came for you.”

Rafael took the gold envelope from her. He recognized your scrawl instantly and smiled at the candy cane taped to the top. He opened it and there was one ticket to opening night, with the best seat in the house. “Thanks. Have a goodnight – please shut the door on your way out.”

“Will do. ‘Night, Mr. Barba.” Carmen replied. “Enjoy your weekend.”

“Likewise.” Rafael replied. He tore open the candy-cane and sucked on it, as he dialed your number from his office phone. He put the call on speaker and then swung his feet onto his desk. He relaxed into his seat a bit.

You answered the phone, balancing it between your ear and shoulder as you pinned your hair in place.

“Please tell me you’re still coming.” You asked, feeling a knot in your stomach.

“Leaving soon. You didn’t have to messenger the ticket. I would have picked it up at the box office.” Rafael replied, crunching on a piece of the candy cane.

“Nonsense.” You replied. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah... I... um...” Rafael replied. He wanted to say those three words to you, that should never be said lightly. You heard him pause, and your heart thumped in your chest. You had been hoping for so long for him to say those three words.  So you pressed lightly.

“Rafi?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you soon.” 

You didn’t have time to fret at the lack of words and be disappointed - the curtain was soon. So instead, you focused your energy on finishing getting ready. 

**

The ninety-minute show was incredible. Rafael had seen you practice many times – at his apartment – at yours. You put endless hours into perfecting your moves. Seeing it all come together, with the rest of the dance troop, however, was something else altogether. He watched the show completely transfixed. The Christmas Spectacular was tradition for any true New Yorker. He had seen it here and there, but this time it was different. He treated himself during intermission a plastic glass with a finger of whisky that cost way too much money.  

From the stage you couldn’t see Rafael but you knew he was there. And knowing that he was there, you made sure to truly give it your all. Afterwards, Rafael was waiting for you outside with a bouquet of red roses. “Rafael!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. He captured your lips with this, kissing you softly. You returned the kiss, eager for more. Catching your hint, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring. Between the high of the performance and his heady cologne, you felt giddy. You both pulled away, breathless from the kiss.

“You were perfect on stage.” Rafael complimented, causing you to beam. You both began to walk, hands interlocked, down to Fifth Avenue to catch a cab going downtown. “What was your favorite act?” You asked, bringing the flowers to your nose with your other hand.

“Parade of the Wooden Soldiers.” Rafael replied. “How do you all do it?”

“The fall?” You asked. “Oh, easy. It starts by having someone rock up on their heels and start to go back. You raise your hands up, slide your hands through, and open your arms. Their feet have to be completely lined up because you don’t want the fall to go one way or another because someone could get hurt.”

You continued. “You have to trust that your nose is going to get flattened a little bit but it’ll all be fine once it’s over. It is a complete team effort.” You started to turn towards the corner, but Rafael grabbed your arm. You looked at him bewildered. “Lets go see the big tree.” He suggested and a smile spread over your face. “Okay.”

The Rockefeller Center tree was adorned with hundreds of thousands of multicolored string lights. It glowed brilliantly over the ice rink that was filled with skaters. Rafael wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You gasped, raising your head off slightly. “It’s snowing.” Rafael looked up - snowflakes coated his long lashes - before he looked back at you.

“I love you.” Rafael spoke. His voice was quiet but firm.

You turned to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. “I love you too.” Rocking onto the balls of your feet, you leaned up and with one gloved hand on the back of his neck, you pulled Rafael into a kiss.

FIN.

**

Tags: @madpanda75​ @tropes-and-tales​ @delia26​ @mgarner1227​ @beardedmccoy​ @youreverycolor​ @neely1177​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @mrsrafaelbarba​ @skittle479​ @ottosuricato​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @mommakat32​ @dreila03​ @beccabarba​ @garturbo​ @lovebennycolon​ @imjustreallynosy​ @sweetsummertime99​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife​ @annabelleb49​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove​ @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Rings

Title: Rings

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1957

Square Filled: Fake Marriage

Summary: “What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” – “I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake.”

Warnings: Fluff, Dash of Angst, Douche Bags, Rifle, Threats, Drunk Guys, Gross Guys, Some Explicit Language, and Lying…

Written for @spndeanbingo​

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: I am really proud of this fic. I feel like it’s not exactly what you’d expect from the Fake Marriage trope. At least, that’s what I think. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! This last fic concludes my SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card! I made it just in time!! Happy Reading!! xx

The day had been a total shit show, and all you wanted to do was to have a seat at a bar, have someone else make your drinks, and get hammered! Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. You’d only been in the, over twenty-one, establishment for merely ten minutes and there had already been one guy that had the nerve to interrupt your “me time,” and now thirty minutes in, another dumbass was trying to talk you up.

“Hey there good lookin’. You seem a little stressed. Can I buy you another drink?”

“Sorry pal, I just want to be alone,” you told him, not bothering to give him a second glance (not that you gave him a first one.)

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be shy, let me just one drink?” He persisted.

“Seriously, I’m good right now,” you tried to remain calm.

“Alright, but if you change your mind, my friends and I are sitting by the juke box. Feel free to join us at any time,” he whispered, as if he thought he was being seductive. It was quite the opposite. His breath was rancid, and the stench coming off of him was just as criminal. You wondered how he could live with himself smelling like roadkill!

“Thanks,” was your only reply, letting out a heavy sigh when he left.

“Some guys just can’t take a hint,” the bartender tsked, her hands placed on the bar top in front of you. You looked up to meet the older lady looking past you, most likely at the group of guys that pig was hanging around with. “Mmm,” she hummed, a look of disgust in her face, “those fellas are one repulsive bunch aren’t they?”

A small smile cracked on your lips, glad that someone was on your side, not that anyone was against you to begin with, but still… this woman just made you feel a little better and you appreciated it.

“You didn’t smell him…” you murmured, slightly shaking your head side to side with trauma.

The older woman laughed. “The name is Ellen. I’m the owner of this bar.”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come in hear before,” the older woman stated. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like the type to come into dive bars. What happened?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, you met her chocolate brown eyes. “Figured going to a bar was a thing to do when shit hits the fan and you just want to drink it all away. I mean, I see it happen all the time in the movies, so I thought… why not? There’s a first time for everything. The only thing that’s different is that the main character in the movies don’t have to deal with drunk gross guys. The girl usually meets that cool mysterious strangers in a suit or leather jacket.”

Ellen laughed at your perception on bars. “Sweetheart, real life ain’t like the movies. Real life actually sucks. So… I have to asked,” she started, “why are you here instead of with your man?”

You looked up at her confused. “Man?”

“The ring. Your husband,” Ellen clarified.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Oh… that.”

“Yeah, that. What’s the deal? You don’t seem very happy.”

“Honestly, I don’t have a husband. I got out of a nasty relationship a while back and have sworn off men for the time being,” you confessed. “This is fake ring I bought off of Amazon. I wear it to ward off guys, which apparently doesn’t work on idiots.”

“What happens when the right guy comes along, see’s that ring, and high tails it out here?” Ellen question, the notion not once crossing your mind.

“I never thought about that. I guess, if he’s the right one, he’d stick around long enough to find out that the ring is a fake,” you shrugged, hoping your answer made enough sense to her, and you.

“Well, I wish you good luck kiddo,” Ellen smiled before having to help another customer.

Through the night, you got to know more about Ellen and the bar. The bar had been her late husband’s dream, but he unfortunately passed before he could even begin to see it’s possibility. In tribute and remembrance of the love of her life, she bought the bar, fixed it up, threw their name in front of it, “Harvelle’s”,  in blinking lights, and eventually it also became her dream. She and her daughter ran the joint, along with a few employees.

You were working on your third drink of the night, trading in your whiskey for a fruity cocktail drink this time – a strawberry daiquiri. Honestly. You were a little surprised that a small town dive bar had it on the menu, but you didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. You just wanted to enjoy the slight buzz you were feeling.

As you sipped your cocktail, a large figure planted themselves beside your left, but you didn’t bother to acknowledge their presence. All you hoped was that whoever it was, would leave you alone. The only company worthy of your attention was Ellen, your new found friend.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Sorry, I’m married,” you lifted your hand, exposing the evident ring on your finger.

“I don’t mind,” his hand closed over yours.

At that moment, you snapped, snatching your hand from his grasp and shooting him a death glare. “What kind of woman do you take me for?” You asked with offense. The man next to you was burly, with a beard like a homeless man, shirt wrinkled and most likely unwashed, and his hair was greasy. Why did you always attract the uncivilized ones?

“The kind of woman that likes to have fun,” he wiggled his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Please, just leave me alone,” you told him, bringing your attention back to your drink.

“Oh, c’mon. Let me show you a good time. You might be surprised at how much you’ll like it… and I know you’ll really like it,” he cooed, his tone over suggestive.

“Seriously, back—”

Before you could finish, another man showed up. “Didn’t you hear the woman say she’s married?” The new stranger hissed, slamming his left hand down on the bar top, a gold band around his ring finger. “Now, I suggest you back off of my wife before you get yourself hurt.”

You were shocked to say the least. This stranger was different than all the men you’ve come across the whole day. From your pig of a boss, to the scumbags littering the bar, this man was something else. He was dangerously handsome, scruff littering his jaw, emerald eyes hard and demanding, and god… he smelled good… and looked good. His expansive chest and shoulders clad in red plaid, which was definitely his color.

Wow.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” The disgusting man barked, standing to his full height. He was much larger than the handsome stranger, who didn’t seem to be scared at all. “You think a small fella like you can take me?”

It was true. The guy was much bigger than Mr. Smell’s so Delicious. He towered him several inches.

“I’ve taken down bigger,” Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes scoffed unfazed.

The gross guy took a step forward and Sex God in Plaid didn’t flinch one bit. If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself getting a little turned on.

“Alright, cut the crap,” Ellen came barreling in, a rifle in hand. “This is my bar and I will not condone to any sort of rough housing.” The asshole took a step back, but your Knight in Shining Armor didn’t seem at all worried. “You…” Ellen’s spoke to the creep, “… you and your buddies has harassed this poor girl long enough. Pay your bill and get out, before I shoot every single one of you between the legs. Her husband is here and she no longer needs your company.”

The beautiful stranger draped his arm over your shoulder protectively, staring down the creeper. “You heard the nice the lady, get out!” He growled.

The man didn’t hesitate to hightail it back to his group of friends. You watched as they quickly pulled out several bills before rushing out of the establishment. Your jaw dropped in surprise, thoroughly impressed at how both Ellen and Mysterious Perfection handled the situation.

“You alright?” the deepness of his voice vibrated through your body, causing heat to crawl up your cheeks.

“Uh.. y-yeah. I mean, yes. Thank you,” you offered a small smile. God, he was so handsome it almost made it hard to even look at him.

“Y/N, this is my nephew Dean. Dean this is my new friend Y/N. Take care of her for the night would’ya? She thinks life is supposed to be like those romantic comedy movies,” she teased, sending you a wink.

The action did nothing to settle your nerves or alleviate the tension raking over your body. In fact, she made it worse.

“A rom-com chick? Oh, no,” he laughed. “Should I be worried?”

The playful tone in his voice surprisingly put you at ease. “What’s wrong with rom-coms?” You scoffed, nudging his arm off your shoulder. “Don’t you have a wife you should be attending to?”

“A wife? Nah. I’m a free man, Y/N,” Dean gloated, taking a seat beside you. If he didn’t just save you from that douche, you would think he was an arrogant ass, but something about him told you that he was a genuinely good guy. Plus, if Ellen was entrusting him to take care of you, he must be a good man.

“Then what’s with the ring?”

Dean chuckled. “It belonged to my father. He passed away to cancer a few years back,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you suddenly became timid.

“He wasn’t the greatest father, but he did his best you know? Besides, if it wasn’t for him, me and my brother wouldn’t be the people we are today. Little brother is a lawyer and I’ve got my own chain of auto shops around the country.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“I guess. All that matters is that I’m pretty happy, you know? Anyways, what’s your story? Where’s your husband?”

This time, it was your turn to laugh. “Not married either. I swore of men a couple of years ago after I was humiliatingly dumped from my ex-fiancé. He cheated on me with his boss. When I called our relationship off, he took the ring and everything else. All he left me was my car and what ever was left of my dignity… which let me tell you, isn’t much.”

“Fuck. That’s harsh. What a douche bag!”

“Tell me about it,” you puffed out in defeat.

“Ah, screw him. You deserve better anyway. A tough girl like you don’t need a weak man like him.”

“Oh yeah? And what kind of man do I deserve?” you taunted, giving him your full attention.

A sly smirk stretched across his face. “Let me take you out tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

“Smooth,” you giggled, and Dean was laughing too.

“I’m serious. Let me take you out. You won’t regret it.”

You looked up at him with a wide smile on your face. “I have the utmost confidence that I won’t.”

Dean grinned. “Looks like we got ourselves a hot date!”

Again, you couldn’t control the laughter bubbling inside of you. He was a dork and you found it being far more attractive than you expected. You were looking forwards to that date.

Looks like it was time for the ring to come off.

--

A/N: My SPN Dean Bingo 2019 Card is officially complete! YAY! I hope you all liked the fics, and I hope you liked this last installment! If you did, please like and reblog! Leave some feedback! I would really appreciate it! Stay beautiful everyone! xx

[raedear]

For the "behind the scenes" asks - 12 and 17? (if you've already answered one of those, substitute 6 instead) Please and thank you!

Thank you for questions!

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

God, you know, I’m actually desperate to write some classic soulmate aus, like, what you write on your skin shows on your soulmate’s skin; the first words you share; red string of fate - any of them. They’re all my favourite tropes, I devour them, but somehow I just can’t seem to write them. I think maybe I always feel like they’re derivative of something someone’s already done better? I’m going to do it but. I might do that soulmate bingo card and just do a bunch of ficlets, a wee chocolate box of fluff. 

17. What fic are you most proud of?

The fic I’m most proud of is actually a Yuri!!! on Ice fic - be still, my foolish heart  I wrote a fairytale for my friends in a discord server because I was in a bad mood and Spirited Away wasn’t quite enough to cheer me up, and when they all liked it so much I turned it into a fullscale fic. I’m still just extremely proud of the voice I found for it? It’s not my usual style of narration, it’s more like you’re being told a story than you’re reading it for yourself, but it makes me really happy. 

In TOG, the fic I’m most proud of is actually probably fresh as hell-o? Mostly because it’s the first time I actually thought I managed to hit funny, and not just trying to be funny. 

Want to ask something? Here’s the list c: 

[avaantares]

For the fanfic ask meme: 5, 10, 11, 26, 31 and 32. Feel free to only do one of these, I just couldn't make up my mind (so many interesting questions!). :-)

Yay, more questions! I answered number 5 in the previous post, but I’ll do the others, because I can’t make up my mind, either.

10.Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Oh, absolutely. The earliest fandom for which I still have the fanfic I wrote was back when fan works were distributed via paper zines that you had to order with a money order sent through postal mail! (Yes, I’m old, LOL.)

Sometimes I’ve also written stories based on more obscure sources for which fic just doesn’t exist. The first fanfic series I ever wrote was a massive meta-humor crossover featuring characters from classic literature, mythology, television shows, movies, video games, etc., many of which didn’t even have fandoms as such.

I’ve also started several stories based on sources with fandoms I wasn’t heavily involved in and hadn’t read fic for, but then did some more digging into the fandom itself and decided not to post them for whatever reason (fandom drama, lack of readership, dear-goodness-why-is-this-entire-fandom-shipping-my-NoTP, etc.).

11.Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?

*laugh* Yup. I joked so often about ticking boxes on my Fanfiction Bingo card that @gmariam321 actually MADE one and sent it to me. (I don’t yet have a Bingo, though. Still need to write that wingfic…) ;-)

Matchless is a soulmate AU, which is quite possibly the single most overused fanfiction formula since the creation of Mary Sue in 1973. Not that formulas are inherently bad, but there are just so many of them that I didn’t expect to have anything unique to add to that fic category. Then, while chatting with @gmariam321 about her (also quite unique) soulmate AU Animoré, I hit upon the idea of subverting soulmates-as-convenient-plot device and addressing the soulmate concept as the plot. Obviously it was never intended to be Ye Standard Olde Soulmate Trope, which made it unpredictable and therefore more fun (for me) to write. It ended up expanding into a 74,000-word sci-fi mystery, which was three times the length I’d originally expected it to be. I think some of my readers weren’t expecting such a complex plot from something tagged as a soulmate AU, but overall I got excellent feedback!

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

I love it when readers really engage with the plot (in longer stories) and comment that they’re trying to work out what the next twist is. I really like spooling out a mystery and getting people hooked. To me, it’s a challenging balance between revealing too much and giving away the ending, or not giving enough clues so that readers are blindsided with a plot twist, so it’s gratifying if people are actively thinking about where the story might be going.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

Norton Folgate. I absolutely ADORE him and would love to write more stories with him, but I really struggled with his voice in the one story I attempted (Purge) and I’m not confident I can do him justice. (Also, I’d need a Polari phrasebook to get his dialogue period-accurate.)

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

Ianto Jones. His dry sarcasm-concealing-sincere concern is so close to some of the characters populating my original fiction that I always found it very easy to write him. Now that I’ve written well over a quarter of a million words about him, I feel like I have a pretty solid grip on his character. :)

[shookethbrooketh]

seven days

day five

summary: dan is stuck in the wrong timeline. one day, he kisses phil goodnight. the next morning, he’s completely alone. he doesn’t even recognize where he wakes up, and little details in the world around him have changed. he has no clue what’s happening or where to go next in an effort to fix it; all he knows is that he has to find phil.

genre: sci-fi, a lil bit of angst, happy ending

warnings: just some swearing!

fic word count: 13.6k chapter word count: 3.3k

written for the @phandomreversebang ! inspired by the awesome moodboard/edits by @maybeformepersonally ! beta’d (beginning to end) by @i-might-just-leave-soon !

dan clambered to his feet and made his way to the door. he walked slowly and emotionlessly back to the flower shop and into its adjacent flat, where he flopped back down onto the same couch he woke up on. he hadn’t even anything to process; he knew exactly what he had to do. he had to wait - for another day, for another trope, for another phil.

read it on ao3

Dan woke up in his bunk and attempted to stretch his arms, but, as usual, there was no space. Why did he and Phil choose to sleep in stupid, tiny bunks instead of the master bed? 

The movement of the tour bus was soothing to Dan; he couldn’t quite remember what had happened, but he felt as if he’d had a long, terrible dream. He tore open the curtain to his bunk and carefully slid out so as to not hit his head, but as soon as his feet hit the floor he could tell he wasn’t in his tour bus at all. 

Everything came flooding back to him; Interactive Introverts had ended nearly a year earlier, yet simultaneously it hadn’t happened at all, and in this universe it never would. Dan certainly was in a tour bus, but it wasn’t the II bus, and it certainly wasn’t 2018. 

“Shit,” he heard from a bunk to the right of his. “I’ve really got to get used to that.” A body fell out of the bunk with absolutely no grace, and the man appearing before Dan barely managed to land feet first. He was rubbing the back of his blonde-haired head, and Dan could tell he was suffering a pain all too familiar: he’d hit his head on the bunk. “G’mornin’, Dan.” 

Dan was taken aback for a moment by the fact that the man knew his name even though they’d never met, but within a few seconds he’d adjusted and shot back, “Morning.” 

Dan sat down at the mini table in the bus’s “kitchen” and began mapping out his conversation. He’d learned to be quite careful conversing with people in odd timelines; if he arose too much suspicion, it could affect his ability to find Phil later in the day. He had to figure out what he needed to know to get by in this universe, and quick. 

“So where are we going today again?” Dan asked nonchalantly. He was lucky in this particular timeline; he’d obviously had experience on tour, so he at least knew what that portion was like. He just needed the details. 

“Detroit,” the man said, lighting a cigarette. Dan struggled not to cough. What kind of a tour bus was this? “Want one?” he asked, noticing Dan eyeing the stick of death. 

“No thanks,” he answered, and the other man raised an eyebrow but let it go quickly. 

“We’ll be rolling up in a few hours. You’re on opening act today,” he said, and Dan was immediately filled with fear and confusion. 

“I’M opening?” Dan blurted out. He wasn’t a musician. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t even know that this was a musician’s tour. Who was he? 

“I know it’s your first show on this rotation, but you’ll be fine. All you’ve gotta do is make sure the opening act gets in and set up alright. You’ll have help.” He paused to blow smoke directly in Dan’s face. “Roadie code.” 

Dan wasn’t sure what ‘roadie code’ was, but all he could do in that moment was attempt to get out of the smoke cloud that was billowing in his direction. As soon as he could breathe, his focus turned quickly to trying to decipher what he was being told. He was a roadie, or at least that was what he had deduced. His duty for the day was to make sure everything ran smoothly for the opening act of this show, which worried him given that opening acts were about the only thing that he hadn’t experienced from his time on tour. However, he had other priorities. 

“Who’s the opening act?” Dan asked. 

“Some guy called Phil Lester. He’s another emo dude.” 

Bingo. 

Dan was completely mentally prepared when the bus arrived at the venue a few hours later. He’d been rehearsing in his head what he was going to say to Phil as much as he could from the moment he’d gotten there, and it was finally time to put it into action. 

His head drifted off topic for a moment as he got off the bus and started unloading. He noticed that the venue was the same one he and Phil had been to when they went to Detroit for TATINOF, and he couldn’t help but take a moment to reminisce. Things had been so good then; their tour was beginning to look up from its original controversy, their relationship was as strong as ever, and, most importantly, they were together. The place held good memories for Dan, and he couldn’t help but hope it would hold good omens for him and the Phil of its universe. 

“Here’s your crew,” the guy Dan had been talking to earlier said once they’d gotten inside. By then he’d learned that his name was Tommy, and he was the head roadie for the tour. Behind him were about five crew members from the venue. He recognized only one of them, which didn’t surprise him since it was ten years in the past, but it did remind him that he’d had an odd feeling of deja vu when he first saw her in 2016. Having his deja vu validated almost sent him into an existential crisis, but he repressed his thoughts; he had business to attend to. 

“Awesome, thanks,” Dan finally replied. Tommy walked away and Dan turned to the crew. “Do you guys know where Phil is?” 

“He’s in his dressing room. It’s down the hall, and it’s labeled ‘opener’,” responded someone with an emo haircut Dan had to remind himself was completely normal. He nodded, muttering something about setting up speakers as he disappeared in the direction the crew member was pointing. 

His heart pounded as he came up to the door and knocked. Phil opened the door almost immediately, and Dan quickly discovered that Tommy was right about his emo act. He was dressed in almost complete black, and he seemed to have embraced his messy fringe to a point where Dan, with his 2019 brain, could barely handle looking at it. 

“Are you the one in charge of getting me set up?” he asked immediately, radiating edgy, careless energy. 

Dan was completely frozen out of shock; he’d had his plan all laid out, and Phil had immediately changed it. “Yeah, I-” he eventually stuttered out, but Phil cut him off before he could even begin to figure out what he was going to say next. 

“Wonderful, let’s go.” Phil pushed right past him, and he was somehow rendered even more speechless than before. This Phil was not going to be easy to convince. 

Dan followed as closely behind as he could, practically falling over himself as he trailed after Phil to the stage. The crew was already working efficiently to set everything up, and Phil stepped up to the microphone as if he owned the stage. 

“We ready?” he asked, assuming a powerful stance; he truly practiced like he would perform. 

Someone in a distant sound box gave him a thumbs up and started playing a track. “Where’s the backup?” he shouted. 

From the gathering of the crew offstage, Dan heard a “they’ll be here a bit before the show!” Phil dramatically rolled his eyes and started singing to the recording. This clearly was a Phil completely unlike the one he knew. 

The situation, however, was completely familiar to Dan. Having been on tour twice, he was more than used to a simple sound check. Phil seemed to prefer to jump straight into his songs while some of the crew was still setting up the main act’s equipment behind him, but Dan couldn’t help but appreciate the style just a bit. A quick rehearsal before a show was a refreshing, far from foreign concept in the foreign world he was living in. 

After Phil had finished up, he took off back to his dressing room before Dan could even attempt to speak to him. He tried to prepare himself again before heading back down the hallway, but he was almost immediately interrupted. “Dan!” 

He turned to see Tommy with the members of the band they’d been traveling with. Dan hadn’t heard of them, so he assumed it was a difference in the timelines, but they seemed to be a slightly different version of My Chemical Romance. 

“Can you help me on security?” 

“Security already?” asked, dumbfounded by the fact that warmups were just starting and they already needed security. 

“A few fans are starting to get lined up; someone just needs to keep them in order. I’ll come get you off once we get through rehearsal, I promise. You’ll be back in time to cover opening rehearsal with the band.” 

Dan sighed and responded, failing to hide his dejected tone. “Where do I need to go?” 

By the time he’d been relieved from security duty, Dan had become completely aware of how much of a pain 2009 was. Despite his complete awareness that he was the exact same way, he couldn’t help but be dreadfully annoyed by the lines and lines of emo teenagers giving him flashbacks to times he didn’t particularly want to remember. Everything they said and did were completely reflective of what the culture used to be like, and it almost infuriated him to know that they had no idea how “cringe” they would consider their behavior to be in the future. That would be true of any point in a cultural timeline, but Dan could still barely handle living in the past with knowledge of the future. 

Even worse, he had no way of telling time. Apparently a young roadie in 2009 didn’t carry a cell phone. Either that or Dan had left it on the bus. Regardless, he was driven nearly mad just by standing there waiting for someone to free him from this job and hoping and praying that he’d be able to talk to Phil before the show. If there was one thing Dan knew about performing, it was that once you perform, you leave. There was nothing better than a post-show tour bus sleep. 

Finally, after what Dan could only assume by the movements of the sun was about an hour, Tommy came back with real venue security guards, and Dan was gone before they could even say a word. He had one thing on his mind, and that was getting to Phil’s dressing room. 

This time, when he knocked on the door, Phil took slightly longer to answer. When he did open the door, he emerged with black eyeliner caked onto only one of his eyes. “You certainly seem to be interested in me this evening,” Phil said, continuing to apply eyeliner in front of him. 

Dan had no idea what to say. All he could think was that he truly was in a fanfiction trope. 

“I’m joking….obviously….” he trailed off, and Dan almost wanted to throw up in his mouth. Why did his journey through time have to be so cliche? 

“Band’s here!” came a call from down the hall. Dan’s fists clenched up at his sides; he was quickly running out of time. 

Dan walked awkwardly beside Phil to the stage, not daring to say anything at all after the ‘conversation’ they’d just had. It really wasn’t much of a conversation at all, but there wasn’t anything else he could call it. 

Dan waited anxiously as the rehearsal went on, but he did enjoy watching; Phil seemed to be completely in his element performing with a band. Dan knew he had the whole science thing going, but he couldn’t help but hope this universe’s Phil would eventually make it big as a musician. In reality, his genre wouldn’t last long, but maybe he’d be like Brendon Urie and Fall Out Boy and evolve--or devolve, depending on the way you look at it. 

Suddenly, rehearsal was over, and Dan didn’t even realize he’d drifted off into his own thoughts. It shocked him, given how focused he’d been earlier on his goal of trying to get information from Phil. Even he had become entranced by the appeal of the day’s trope. They do have a way of getting to you. 

“Can I talk to you in your dressing room for a moment?” The words fell out of Dan’s mouth more than he spoke them. Nerves were beginning to creep back up; it was now or never.

“By all means,” Phil replied with a cool smirk. Dan couldn’t help but roll his eyes at himself for falling a bit for this Phil. 

He followed Phil back to his dressing room like a terrified teenager who’d never kissed anyone before. When they reached the room, Phil held the door open for Dan, who went in and took a seat on the couch. The dressing room was nice, but it was nowhere near as nice as the one he and Phil had been in when they’d come to this venue. To be fair, seven years did tend to make a difference.

“So,” Phil said, running his hand through his hair and sitting down beside Dan, “what do you want to talk about?” He put a bit too much emphasis on the word talk for Dan’s taste. 

Dan took a deep breath. Phil was sitting in such a manner that Dan knew he wanted to make out with him; Dan, however, had drastically different goals. Why was it that every time he needed information out of a Phil he had to ruin a perfectly good trope in doing it? 

“I’m a time traveler.” 

Phil took a moment to process this. Dan could recognize it as the same thoughts he went through when Phil first spoke to him; he’d had perfectly good plans in place, and what Dan said not only completely ruined them but probably also thoroughly confused him, at least at first.

“What year?” 

“2019. I jumped around 2019 timelines for a few days and then got transported back to here. This is my second day in 2009.” 

“Wow,” Phil said, clearly intrigued, “what’s it like?” 

“It’s… good?” Dan said, a bit aggravated that they weren’t making better progress. “This entire thing goes out of style pretty soon, though,” he added, gesturing to Phil’s whole body. “But that doesn’t matter. You do this sort of science, don’t you? I know you’re nowhere near actual time travel, but you’re starting studies on the subject, are you not?”

Phil nodded. “You know about the Phils. You definitely are getting along well in your journey.” He stood up and walked over to a desk on the other side of the room and picked up a pad of paper and a pen; he seemed to have been drawing earlier. “What do you know?” 

Dan’s entire story came spilling out almost uncontrollably. He truly hadn’t been able to vent to anyone the way he had to Phil, and it was just as relieving to him as it was helpful to Phil. 

“That’s my story, I guess,” he ended, taking a deep breath and making eye contact with Phil, who had been taking some notes. 

“I suppose it does make sense that this entire thing was a trope. That’s probably one of the simplest ways to explain how attracted I was to you having barely even spoken to you.” Dan wasn’t completely sure how to respond to that, so he just let Phil keep talking. “I have so many questions, mainly about the clear cultural differences that I can feel between us just from the way you spoke in your story and different things that you spoke of, but I doubt we have time to discuss anything like that. What matters is that we figure out how to get you home, back to your Phil.” 

“As much as I’d love to explain fanfiction culture to you, I wholeheartedly agree.” 

“Well, I can assume that your Phil is probably making efforts to look for you. He’s certainly realized something’s wrong with whatever Dan is in your universe right now.” Dan gulped; he hadn’t considered that there was another Dan currently with his Phil. It almost made him feel jealous. “The last Phil you met was right; there’s probably also another 2019 Phil in this universe somewhere. I’m not completely sure how you’d find him, but he’s probably the only one who knows enough to get you home.” 

“But what do you know?” Dan asked, anxious to get to the point. Phil mentioning the lack of time for discussion suddenly made Dan quite aware that Phil had a show to open for any moment. 

“Based off my research so far and what you’ve told me, I can make a couple calculations, but I definitely won’t be able to explain anything to you. I’ll just hand you a paper that you probably won’t be able to read, and you’ll have to show it to the next Phil. Keep it on you and hopefully it’ll come with you into the next timeline. I’ll work on all that after I perform--shit, the performance!” 

Phil jumped up and ran to check a watch sitting on the desk. “I’m on in five!” he exclaimed, rushing for the door. “Let’s go!” 

Dan and Phil rushed down the hall and backstage, where Phil got ready to go on. Dan tried to calm himself back into normal life, but it was difficult when normal life didn’t really seem to exist. All he could do for the time being was enjoy Phil’s music, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy Phil’s music. 

He and Phil smiled at each other both as Phil went on and off the stage, and Phil disappeared quickly back into his dressing room to work on the calculations. Dan had nothing left to do but sit backstage and watch the rest of the concert. 

When the band finally wrapped up, the entire crew immediately started moving, and Dan quickly joined in. “Dan, what are you doing?” he heard Tommy ask. “C’mon, you know we’re on band security getting out of here. Everyone else will get the stuff out just fine, even if we’re stuck here awhile. They’re slow, but they’re good.” 

Dan bit his lip and walked out with Tommy and the band. He exhaled as he walked past Phil’s dressing room, trying to nonchalantly hit the door a bit in passing. He hoped Phil would notice; if he didn’t, Dan would be completely and utterly screwed. 

They got out to the bus, and there was still no sign of Phil. The crew was beginning to get all the things outside and pack them underneath the bus; if Phil didn’t arrive soon, they’d have to leave without the paper. 

“I’m going to go help them load,” Dan said, rushing off the bus before Tommy could comment on his obviously strange behavior. Dan quickly regretted his decision, as him helping sped up their process, and they were done loading within a few minutes. 

“Let’s roll out,” someone said. The crew went back into the venue, and the rest of the roadies got on the bus. Dan furrowed his brow; he’d run out of time. 

“Dan!” he heard, and his head turned faster than he could even register. A deep sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he saw Phil sprinting across the parking lot. Dan ran out to meet him, and when they finally met, Phil rested a hand on Dan’s shoulder to catch his breath. 

He took Dan’s hand and placed the paper in it before taking a step back. “Good luck, Howell.”

[this-darkness-light]

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Prompt: early childhood teacher!Dean Pairing: Dean/Lucifer Rating: Mature   Summary: Jack overhears something he shouldn't have and has some very interesting questions as a result. Word Count: 2,306 Warnings: adult language and naughty words Tags: humor, borderline crack, Lucifer is not Lucifer, Lucifer is called Nick, AU-No supernatural

Read on AO3

Written for the SPN AU and Trope Bingo Challenge.

Tagging: @brieflymaximumprincess @spnaubingo (I think this is the right URL; please let me know if I’m wrong!)

-.-.-.-.-

Dean grins and pushes Nick against the whiteboard sprawling across the front of the room, careful not to smudge the big red bubble letters of today’s math lesson. Would be a shame to accidentally erase 1 + 1 = 2, because right now that’s the truest thing Dean knows. Nick’s back hits the whiteboard so hard a few of the capped markers and erasers jostle about in the ledge and clatter to the beige carpet, but whatever. It’s already polka dotted with erasers and pencil stubs and rubber bands and whatever else these kids chuck at each other (and at Dean) while Dean’s back is turned.

“Finally got you to myself for a few minutes,” Dean husks into Nick’s ear as he skates his fingertips down the smooth, warm skin of the other man’s sides beneath his clothes, making him shiver and moan softly. Mmm. Music to Dean’s ears. Not that he minds the kids chattering and laughing and singing to themselves as they do their work or play over in the toy nook when their work’s done. It’s just nice to hear something so…adult for a change of pace.

Nick hums and slips his arms around Dean’s waist, squeezing the pert globes of his ass through the stupid fancy dress slacks Dean has to wear to work. Apparently showing up in denim and flannel is against the school’s dress code for teachers. “Not quite, but close enough,” Nick murmurs just as a well-timed shriek rings out from the playground. The hell are these little cock blockers up to now? Stiffening, both men lean forward (or in Dean’s case, backward) to see what the fuss is all about just as two colorful blurs dart past the large window.

Eh. They’re just playing tag or some shit. Whatever. Let ‘em burn off all that energy so they can focus on math after recess. With a shrug Dean faces Nick and, with a borderline demonic smirk, slams him back against the whiteboard, knocking another marker to the floor as he pins him in place. Nick yelps but it quickly morphs into a moan as Dean captures his lips in a deep kiss. “Now where were we?” Dean asks when he pulls away a few seconds later, still close enough that their lips brush together as he talks.

In reply Nick cups Dean’s face and urges him forward for another kiss, this time with more teeth and tongue, but not enough to get either of them feeling frisky. “Mmm. Right about…there.”

And yeah, okay, it’s sort of weird making out with his boyfriend in a room with brightly colored ABCs and one-two-threes trimming the walls and cubbies full of backpacks and lunch boxes near the front door and stick figure Crayola masterpieces pinned to the cork board near his desk. But this is the only time during the week they really get to see each other. Even though Dean gets home in the early afternoon, by that time Nick is already heading off to work. And no way is Dean gonna ask a single dad struggling to support himself and his son to play hooky just for some tonsil hockey. So they make do with making out during recess while the kids are too busy running around like hooligans to notice what Mr. Winchester and Mr. Kline are getting up to, and tease each other until the weekend, when they can – ahem – get together. In the Biblical sense.

Speaking of the weekend…

“Am I seeing you this Saturday?” Dean nuzzles a kiss onto Nick’s neck as he tugs the other man away from the white board and into a tight embrace. It’s insane how good it feels to just hold his lover in his arms. Before his brain can jump off the high dive and drown in a pool of fuzzy pink chick flick feelings, he reaches around and smacks Nick smartly on his ass. It’s a nice ass, too. Tight enough to bounce a nickel off of it.

Nick’s in the middle of answering when Dean smacks him. “Yeah, I THINK so.” Dean cackles and earns himself a playful swat on the shoulder. “Keep that up, and you won’t get a piece of this until next week,” Nick says with mock indignation.

Dean just snorts. Yeah right. His boyfriend’s a cockslut and they both know it. “You couldn’t go another whole week without my cock filling you up, splitting you open nice and wide.”

Nick considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “You do have a nice cock.” He doesn’t even blush, just quirks an eyebrow and winks up at Dean like the sassy little shit he is.

Dean loves it.

Grinning, he leans forward for another kiss when a small voice pipes up from behind them. “Daddy, what’s a cock?”

Somewhere, the record player oozing cheesy chick flick music glitches to a halt. Or maybe that’s just Dean’s brain shutting down in a shit storm of oh fuck. Shoving Nick aside (”Oof,” Nick grunts as he hits the whiteboard for the third time that morning, sending the rest of the markers and erases clattering to the floor), Dean spins around and peers past the clusters of brightly colored plastic desks and giant foam planet balls hanging from the ceiling (last week’s art project) to see the sandy brown mop and wide blue eyes of —

“Jack.” Nick steps forward, straightening his shirts and nudging Dean out of his way with his shoulder to squat in front of his son. Dean swears under his breath and runs a hand through his hair. Great. This is just perfect. Who knows how long the kid’s been standing there? This is not the kind of vocab lesson a kindergartener needs.

“Why aren’t you playing outside with the other kids? It’s a nice day,” Nick’s saying, gesturing vaguely at the slightly cloudy but otherwise sunshiny morning visible through the window.

“But what’s a cock?” Jack asks again, not taking the go-play-outside bait.

Coughing, Dean shuffles his feet and scrubs a hand along the back of his neck. “It’s…uh…Um.” He’s tempted to dial his desk phone from his cell phone to get himself out of this mess, let Nick tackle this parenting problem all by his onesies. But then Nick might really get pissed at him and he might not get laid this weekend, and that’s a tragedy Dean can’t live with.

Suddenly Nick perks up and snaps his fingers. “Aha! Its, uh, its’ another word for ‘rooster.” He gives a shaky little laugh and pats Jack on the shoulder, obviously proud of himself for pulling a G-rated answer out of his ass at the last second. Dean inclines his head, silently giving Nick props. Hopefully that’ll satisfy the kid and he’ll skip on out to the monkey bars so he and Nick can get back to their own kind of goofing off.

Instead, Jack tilts his head and stares up at them with laser like focus. “Where does he live?”

Nick’s face scrunches up, looking as hopelessly lost as Dean feels. His thoughts race, searching every nook and cranny of his mind for what the hell Jack might mean, but no brave answer pops up and volunteers as tribute, so he’s left spinning his wheels.

Clearing his throat, he inches toward Nick for some adult-vs-child solidarity. “Where does —” He’s so focused on Jack he forgets all about the foam solar system hanging from the ceiling and smacks himself upside the head with Neptune. Grumbling darkly under his breath, he glares at the offending blue foam ball and gently bats it aside. “Where does who live, buddy?”

Jack’s eyes flick up to him. “Your rooster.” He turns his gaze back onto Nick, who visibly flinches like someone socked him in the stomach. “You said Mister Winchester had a nice cock, daddy.” Nick’s face is the same color as the whiteboard. “So where does he live?”

Goddamn it, this kid’s too smart for Nick and Dean’s own good. Dean would be proud of his student and possible future step-son (hey, ya never know, it could happen) if the situation hadn’t been so damn awkward. Sweat beads on his forehead, and a drop trickles down the side of his face. Shit, this is almost as bad as getting interrogated by the cops. Maybe worse.

Nick scratches at the stubble on his chin and glances up at Dean, a pleading look for help on his face. Dean shakes his head and holds out his empty hands, ‘cause he’s got nothing. Besides, he fielded the last question. Nick’s on his own with this one. Nick shoots him a narrow-eyed squint, lips flat across his face, but honestly, Dean has no idea what to say here. Besides, Nick’s the parent.

Setting his jaw, Nick huffs and then turns back to Jack, who’s patiently waiting like a little angel for an answer to his question. “It’s, uh. It lives in his, in his…” he trails off, fingers twitching in the air like he’s hoping the parenting gods will drop another kid-friendly answer into his hands. Then his eyes light up and a slow smile spreads on his face like ink staining water. “In his backyard! Yeah. The rooster lives in De— Mr. Winchester’s back yard.” He sits back on his haunches, looking all kinds of smug, and bounces his eyebrows at Dean, obviously pleased with himself.

Dean isn’t pleased with Nick though, oh hell no. At this point he’d kinda like to strangle him. Just so Nick knows how not-pleased Dean is with him, he none-too-gently kicks Nick in the shin. What the hell? he mouths at him, eyes bugging out of his skull.

Nick shrugs a shoulder in a very sorry-not-sorry sort of way. What did you want me to say? he mouths back. Anything but that! Dean silently screams at him. Oblivious to the silent conversation the adults are having above his head, Jack’s face bursts into a smile bright enough to rival the sunshine outside. Toddling over to Dean, he tugs on his pants leg. “Please bring your rooster to class tomorrow, Mister Winchester? For show an’ tell? I wanna pet him.”

Dean blinks down at Jack. Goddamn it. He can’t shoot down the hope brimming in this kids eyes, but where the hell is he supposed to get a goddamn rooster by tomorrow morning?

Nick’s grinning along with his son. Hmph. His ass is saved, so of fucking course he goes and throws Dean under the big yellow school bus. Asshole. Dean vows to get back at him later, but now, all he can do is swallow around the rooster-shaped lump in his throat and say, “Uh, yeah. Sure thing, buddy. Now go out and play, okay? You’ve still got — “ he checks his watch “—six more minutes of recess.”

Jack claps his hands and laughs, bouncing from foot to foot. “Okay!” Then he’s gone, tumbling out the door. Dean and Nick get as far as sharing a relieved look when Jack starts screaming outside. “Mister Winchester is gonna bring his cock tomorrow for show and tell!”

Nick bursts out laughing, doubling over and slapping his knees and repeating Jack’s announcement in a wheezy voice.

Dean just groans and wanders over to his chair, sinking down into it and covering his face with both hands. This is just fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. An hour or two from now, he’s gonna get bombarded with concerned phone calls from concerned parents. The damn thing’s gonna ring all afternoon. Probably all night too. He peeks out from between his fingers to see Nick still chortling away, face all shiny and red.

Oh yeah. He’s definitely making sure Nick will be too sore to walk straight for a week.

Bonus scene:

Dean’s just about ready to take a ride into hickville and bird-nap a random chicken when he remembers that Sam owns a small organic farm nearby. When school lets out that afternoon, he heads over and convinces Sam to let him borrow a rooster for the next day.

Fucking thing crows all night long, cock-a-doodle-dooing at the top of its voice. Dean stuffs his head under his pillow and tries to get some shut-eye, but each time he’s nodding off, the goddamn thing wakes him up again.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, he gets up at the ass-crack of dawn, which is actually a good thing because it escapes the crate when he goes to feed it and it takes Dean half a century to wrestle the mangy son of a bitch back inside. By the time he’s done he’s got scratches and peck marks all over his arms and neck and hands and he’s craving fried chicken like no one’s business.

Turns out the rooster loves kids, lets them pet its feathers and poke at its wattles and give it the five-year-old equivalent of a giant bear hug. But for some reason it hates Dean. Not that asshole Nick, or the flock of concerned parents that showed up for today’s show and tell. Just Dean. It attacks him every chance it gets, chases him around the classroom and pecks at his ass, all while cawing loudly and flapping its wings.

The kids laugh and clap and think it’s the best thing ever. Nick the asshole records the whole thing and puts it on YouTube, and damn it if it doesn’t go viral and get mentioned on the local weekend news, their feel-good story of the day. And of course Sam has to call and “congratulate” him on making the six o’clock news.

Dean makes sure Nick can’t walk straight or sit on a chair without a cushion for a month.

-.-.-.-.-

[convenientalias]

A Summary of My Fics in 2018

I found this post lying around and apparently I forgot to post it two weeks ago at the New Year’s when I first made it, so. Here’s a list of the fics I wrote in 2018, with some musings etc.

** = Personal favorite.

# = I wish it had more comments.

Animorphs

on a night like this one (1952 words)--A Cassie/Rachel fic written for the Smut Exchange in April, so not a whole lot of plot! I was inspired by a prompt asking for Cassie as the gentle dom, which seemed like such an interesting concept.

falcon falcon, burning bright (2264 words)--Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo in June, a fic about Visser Three capturing Jake. The square I wrote it for was “The Collector”.

Whales and Dolphins and Humans and Yeerks (1416 words)--A Cassie/Aftran fic. Written on one of those probably-too-frequent occasions I opened for femslash prompts. I’d kind of always wanted to write some Caftran? But never got around to it bc I have too many damn fandoms. (...fandamns.)

Avatar: The Last Airbender

...wow, I wrote six fics for this fandom this year. Guess it was more of an ATLA year than I thought.

Largely bc of keircatenation, btw, who sent me a couple very nice prompts.

Kyoshi Wood (This Bird Has Flown) (1726 words)--Dysfunctional Tyzula fic, the first ATLA fic I have ever posted on AO3 (...though I have in the past posted a number on ff.net). Written because I listened to the song “Norwegian Wood” and instantly thought, “Welp, that’s a Tyzula vibe.” The first ATLA fic I wrote this year and it was already July...guess my ATLA content has been all in the past five months.

** every feudal lord needs a loyal handmaiden (13883 words)--Moooore Tyzula! This fic was for the Femslash After Dark Exchange in July which should make it more smutty than it is! But I figure the mature rating is justified by the various dark goings-on. Anyways, this is basically me writing the political intrigue Tyzula fic of my dreams, which is how it got so damn long. I’m quite happy with it.

a snow fight (1660 words)--...and I’m not happy with this one! I was prompted “No holds barred beatdown” for Zuko in Bad Things Happen Bingo and I tried my best but I think I just wasn’t in the right headspace. Came out kind of eh.

changing, losing, staying (3906 words)--Written when I opened for femslash prompts and received the prompt  "'I can't afford to lose you too' + Suki/Ty Lee". Postcanon, pretty chill, longer than I expected it to be by the time I was done.

** because it would be a waste (1891 words)--Brief Azutara fic for the prompt of  "Azula/Katara, set in a Bad Future AU where Azula is Fire Lord and Katara is her Favorite Prisoner." Written in November.

A Diplomatic Mission and Its Results (2483 words)--I was prompted diplomacy and Suki/Sokka/Toph for some poly event and I did my best! Never really thought about this ship before.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)

** Mhaacta Made Them Do It (3631 words)--Amy/Rosa treat for the Femslash After Dark Exchange, featuring ritual sex and an ELDRITCH ABOMINATION. ...technically a case fic.

Caper Court - Caro Fraser

the pupil of dover court (1543 words)-- I found this book series thru the Yuletide Exchange but only had time (...well, access, really) to read the first book. But I quite liked it and wrote a treat for the person requesting it for the exchange.

Catherine (Web Series)

there's something about catherine (1299 words)-- Another fandom I found through the Yuletide Exchange! This requester wanted some Lynchian Normcore femslash so I did my best to provide. Very easy fandom to get into, btw, webseries is less than an hour long. 

Disney

** Amor Vincit Omnia (3231 words)--Maleficent/Philip Stockholm Syndrome fic, written as a treat for the Chocolate Box Exchange. 

No one will hurt you (1166 words)--Inspired by a short comic by @disneyfemslashcomics​, a Mulan/Jasmine fic featuring hurt/comfort and a nonbinary Mulan.

** #  Old and stolen texts (2635 words)--A Belleficent fic I wrote bc idk I like Maleficent and I like Belle and the two seemed like a good ship for Stockholm Syndrome and, obviously, beauty and the beast scenarios. Quite proud of this one :)

Dollhouse

I wrote five fics for this fandom this year but I still think I kind of cooled on it. For one thing, two of those fics were assigned for exchanges--for another, last year, with little to no incentive of that kind, I wrote seven. Still had a good time this year tho.

Also, all of them were pretty dark! We’re not surprised.

** i'll take your mind (to kick around as a toy) (3095 words)--Adelle/Echo fic written for the Trope Bingo Challenge, for a square of “in another man’s shoes”. Longer than I had remembered!

Orientation (3881 words)--Possibly my darkest fic of the year, but I’m sure it’s debatable. Blatant rape/non-con between Bennett Halverson and Caroline Farrell, written for the Nonconathon Exchange.

taking turns (2008 words)--Lighter in the sense that it’s melancholy rather than dark as hell. A Claire and Topher fic written for the Remix Revival event, remixing a fic I greatly enjoyed.

# january to december, do you want to be a member? (1338 words)--Adelle/Echo fic where Adelle uses Echo as a doll. Kind of a filler fic, I’d always wanted to play with the idea but couldn’t get super into it. Ehh.

# someone to watch over me (1217 words)--Claire-centered fic with not a whole ton of plot. Again, kind of a filler fic. This is one reason I have to say I was not so into this fandom this year--2/5 fics being filler isn’t a great ratio.

Egil Saga - Faun (Music Video)

No man shall scratch runes. (1273 words)--Written as a treat for the Yuletide Exchange. H/C and some very basic worldbuilding for a weird, surreal music video. Not much else to say. Debatably femslash. 

Flesh and Bone (TV)

Danseuse and Partner (1172 words)-- I got paired with someone for the Chocolate Box Exchange who requested soft and fluffy fic for Cassie/Jake, but at that time I had no fluffy Animorph feelings so I binge-watched this miniseries so I could fill their other request, which was domestic, relatively functional incest fic. Idk if I succeeded, it was an interesting prompt but I didn’t ship it. I was more vibing with the series’ femslash potential. But I never got around to writing for that.

Gattaca (1997)

Gattaca fandom, I swear I still love you! I’m just less depressed this year! Which, to be honest, IS A GOOD THING! but not very conducive to the kind of Gattaca fic I used to write lols.

** Peppermint and Vanilla (1492 words)--H/C Eugne & Vincent fic written when @trifoyle prompted me the title. I’m quite happy with it.

Of Physicists and Janitors (35780 words)-- I only wrote like a chapter of this in 2018. God. I really need to finish this. Also AO3 thinks I wrote the whole thing this year which just is not true.

Allergies (2374 words)-- Fic I started like two years ago and only finished now. Mostly Vincent-centric. Again, inspired by conversation with @trifoyle 

Gravity Falls

The Pink Streak (1644 words)-- Wendy/Pacifica fic written as a treat for the Chocolate Box Exchange.

Grease (1978)

beauty queen, my best girl (1018 words)-- Frenchy/Sandy fic, written as a treat for the Chocolate Box Exchange.

Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald

** A Mistress's Mistress (2178 words)-- Jordan/Myrtle fic written as a treat for the Chocolate Box Exchange. Because Myrtle deserves better, okay?

** Santa Barbara (2691 words)-- Pre-canon Jordan/Daisy fic written for a prompt of  "Jordan manipulating Daisy (and Daisy kind of going along with it)." Probably my favorite Jordaisy fic I’ve written to date.

Careless Wanderers (2380 words)-- Post-canon Jordan/Daisy fic written for Trope Bingo for the “Road Trip” square.

White Lies of a Colored Past (1820 words)-- About two years ago I wrote down the idea of Gatsby incorporating Nick into his shady, multiple-choice backstory. And then this year I finally wrote it. ...probably would have been better two years ago but I don’t not like it.

** for children's consumption (3143 words)-- Someone prompted me Nick Carraway and abuse/neglect for Bad Things Happen Bingo, and I wrote this odd little gen fic drawing parallels between his past and Pammy’s present. I’m quite pleased with it.

the dawn of another summer (443 words)-- Fic found in a deleted text file. Jordaisy.

the kind of choices you make at midnight (436 words)-- Fic found in a deleted text file. Jordaisy.

Greek and Roman Mythology

Messenger of the Atreides (2035 words)-- I wrote this as a pinch hit for the Chocolate Box Exchange. Shipping Odysseus/Achilles from the Iliad. The vaguest smut I ever did write.

Hannibal (TV)

** # A similar confusion (4036 words)--Weird Gideon & Will fic bc having watched Hannibal, I really just wanted someone to be nice to Will who wasn’t Hannibal bc oh geez.

Harlots (TV)

girl in black and white (451 words)-- Short little ficlet I wrote for fuckthegods for the TV Exchange. Fuckthegods left tumblr... I’m really sad.

There is no one higher (2300 words)-- Caroline/Charlotte fic, would be PWP if I went harder on the actual smut.

Heathers

Right Answers (1667 words)-- Chansaw fic for the Femslash Exchange. Probably should have been longer but I overbooked myself this season and for once didn’t have the time.

doing an old friend a favor (2080 words)-- Someone requested Veronica/McNamara with a JESSICA JONES NOIR AU for Yuletide so of course I had to treat that shit.

How to Get Away with Murder

I wrote six whole fics for this fandom and still never wrote shippy stuff for my OTP. I NEED TO GET AROUND TO THAT. Also all my fics were relatively short and I should get on that. But this fandom doesn’t comment a whole lot and none of my friends are in it so it’s hard to motivate...

** your sweetheart psychopathic crush (2148 words)-- My first fic in this fandom, darkish Lilabecca bc of course I had to start with dark femslash.

five ways of looking at a homicide (1950 words)-- Asher POV finding out about all the shit that went down with the original Keating murder.

exam grade (1174 words)-- Annalise being concerned about Wes.

stuck in the corner (1089 words)-- Annalise/Michaela and Annalise/Bonnie in one brief smutty moment. Written for the Annual Femslash Kinkmeme.

# warm water (1353 words)-- Angsty Bonnalise bath sex. Written for the Annual Femslash Kinkmeme.

this is nice but also that is a murder bed (1062 words)-- And a random Connor/Wes fic appears. 

Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers - Alyssa Wong

# the street's a liar (2411 words)--Honestly this fic (written for Dark Femslash Week) is pretty good and I would write more fic for this fandom if it wasn’t two ppl and a shoelace. 

I reincarnated into an otome game as a villainess with only destruction flags

Villainesses Must Stick Together (2950 words)-- Written as a treat for the Yuletide Exchange. The rare diary format fic! Multiple realities interacting and some very mild selfcest!

Inception (2010)

** Fortifier (3512 words)-- Saito/Cobb fic written as a treat for the Chocolate Box exchange, with Saito as Cobb’s employer but also veering close to sugar daddy. I’m actually pretty happy with this.

Jessica Jones (TV)

Nothing Neat or Nice (2484 words)-- Hogarth/Jessica, plotless infidelity. 

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)

gentleman's homecoming (1543 words)-- Lazy Grant/Jonathan fic mostly written to get my feet wet in the fandom.

** the husband in the tower (3787 words)--Arabella rescues Jonathan! Basically the fic I wanted to be the canon ending! But also written for my assignment for Yuletide! So we know other ppl wanted it too.

** Empty Houses Need to Be Filled (3804 words)-- Written as a Yuletide treat, an Emma/Arabella post-canon recovery fic.

A Strange Pact (1374 words)-- Going to be multichapter AU gen fic about Jonathan and the Gentleman. I’m working on it!

Lady of the Shard (Webcomic)

nix the new age morality (1537 words)--Noncon of the “Old God made them do it with mind control” sort, treat for the Nonconathon Exchange. 

Les Misérables

you should probably arrest me (751 words)-- Enjolras/Javert ficlet, prompted.

shivering under the stars (2277 words)-- Enjolras/Javert, prompted for the  “shaking and shivering” square for Bad Things Happen Bingo.

Marco Polo (TV)

Eleven fics for this fandom this year! Why, that’s quite a few! This is entirely bc of fuckthegods who a) sent me a lot of prompts for femslash and one for gen and b) just in general is my Marco Polo muse, inspires me to write fics I wouldn’t otherwise write. And now she’s gone off to Dreamwidth and I am honestly so sad but anyways.

Also, I’m not gonna tag any of these as “could use more comments” bc Marco Polo is such a damn small fandom but. That is true for basically all of these.

And I would walk five hundred miles (2514 words)-- Jing Fei/Mei Lin fic where Jing Fei survives and the two are reunited.

** Make me feel missed (2157 words)--Sequel to above, this time THERE’S SMUT.

truth in the cups (489 words)-- Written for fuckthegods in an exchange, Chabit/Mei Lin fic.

i will wait for you (1060 words)-- Jing Fei/Mei Lin episode related.

** do princes bleed blue (1643 words)-- Jingim whump for Bad Things Happen Bingo, “bleeding through bandages”.

stages of reflection (2229 words)-- Mei Lin + mirrors. For Bad Things Happen Bingo “rage against the reflection”.

an empress' softness (1558 words)-- Mei Lin/Chabi, smutty and angsty episode tag to “Measure Against the Linchpin.”

running from a savior (1459 words)-- Mei Lin & Marco, related to “Hug.”

Harmless (1158 words)-- Mei Lin/Chabi smut set in Season One, playing with power dynamics.

dance of mourning (695 words)-- Mei Lin mourning Jing Fei.

a whore's return to cambulac (2075 words)--  My last gift to fuckthegods before she left tumblr, a Mei Lin/Chabi reunion fic postcanon.

Miraculous Ladybug

Bound to Be There For You (2908 words)-- Chlonette fic written for the “tied together” square of Trope Bingo.

Original Work

** In the Private Seating (3384 words)-- Theatre smut. Femslash. Written as a treat for the Smut Exchange.

Perilous Gard - Elizabeth Marie Pope

** # The Training of a Human (5019 words)-- Dark Lady/Kate fic for Yuletide treat.

** Bangles (2485 words)-- Aaaand another dark Lady/Kate fic for Yuletide treat. 

Phantom of the Opera

Me: I feel like I’ve been less active in the POTO fandom this year.

Also me: Wrote 28 POTO fics this year.

Got a lot of prompts, especially from generalsleepy, ponderinfrustration, a couple others I can’t think of off the top of my head. Thanks to all you guys for the inspiration.

Perfectionist (1617 words)-- Soft early relationship Carlottastine ficlet. Prompted.

Mind Beating Wild (1544 words)-- Carlottastine remix of the cemetery scene. Also prompted.

** Buttercup Boys and Goldenrod Girls (2990 words)-- Queerplatonic Raoul & Christine fic with aro Christine and demisexual Raoul. Kind of a wandering, collage-y fic.

** Cinnamon and Tobacco (5441 words)-- My first ever Daraoulga fic! A lot of H/C.

Nowhere, Nobody Else (1450 words)-- Cherik/Philippe fic. Prompted.

** in my heart i belong in a house by the sea (1797 words)-- Angsty as heck R/C fic. In Sweden! Prompted.

** free city for the enterprising (1746 words)-- Vaaaampires with R/C and E/R, I think it was prompted?

the more persistent spirit (3279 words)-- More generic Daraoulga fic, me still trying to figure out how Daraoulga would work.

** half-sick of shadows (3320 words)-- I just felt like “The Lady of Shalott” had strong Christine vibes, so I mixed it into a Carlottastine fic.

two divas one bed (1332 words)-- I mean what does it sound like. Modern AU Carlottastine.

** kiss me hard before you go (2489 words)-- Carlottastine but Carlotta is leaving Paris to live in the country so they’re BREAKING UP OH NO. Prompted.

hello, i want to kiss you (1009 words)-- Cherik/Philippe fic. Prompted.

Confusion of a Night (1987 words)-- Carlotta & Raoul fic, written for the “sensory overload” square of Bad Things Happen Bingo.

** two-thirty phone calls are never a good sign (1671 words)-- Daraoulga modern AU fic written for the humiliation square of Bad Things Happen Bingo.

** could you maybe act like you don't hate me (3433 words)-- Carlottastine smut mostly.

eliminate the competition (437 words)-- Carlotta ficlet. Prompted.

gala (654 words)-- A softer follow-up on “two-thirty phone calls are never a good sign.” ...I think it was prompted?

spiteful (796 words)-- Erik/Carlotta spiteful kiss ficlet, prompted.

take notes, sweetheart (466 words)-- Carlottastine antagonistic UST ficlet, prompted.

good morning erik (443 words)-- Fluffy Cherik/Philippe ficlet, prompted.

** she loves a pretty face (3966 words)-- Prompted “Raoul, scar to remember” for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Some R/C and E/R. I like this one.

lonely with you (1583 words)-- Prompted Raoul and touch-starved for Bad Things Happen Bingo. R/C, Sweden fic.

** Dolls and Goblins (5175 words)-- Prompted E/R and forced crossdressing, not somewhere I would usually go! But I think it came out well.

don't you trust me? (921 words)-- Angsty Daraoulga ficlet. Prompted.

nothing more than a minnow (1019 words)-- Quiet ghost!E/R fic written for the Darkest Night Exchange. This prompt definitely deserved better than I gave it! Idk why I wasn’t vibing with it just then.

cause you might not get tomorrow (1619 words)-- Carlotta carpe diem fic! Including Carlottastine.

long-term issues (2679 words)--Not another E/R kidnapping fic, I can’t believe it. I think this was prompted but I fucked with the prompt.

i wanna run away with you (2464 words)--Daroga joins with the R & C gang for the Sweden elopement.

Tell me the truth. (1941 words)-- Angsty Daraoulga, prompted.

...why does it feel like I didn’t write that much POTO fic? Maybe bc proportionally it’s less than in other years. But this year I wrote more fic in general, so of course the proportions have shifted.

Riverdale (TV 2017)

** the long elasticity of forgiveness (4321 words)-- FP is in jail, Jughead is being very patient.

** # My Secret Brother (7614 words)-- Technically Chic would have been Jughead’s brother too, so.

# spill some blossom blood (2049 words)-- Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, “Cheryl, take me instead”.

Sense8 (TV)

Six fics this year :) That’s about as many as I thought. Fandom deserves more tbh.

You, Painted Pink and Blue (2652 words)-- Sun/Riley kind of smut without plot, written for the Trope Bingo square of “Romance novel AU.”

Secret Garden (999 words)-- Sun/Soo-jin ficlet.

** Such Things Are Possible (12867 words)-- Rajan’s POV of that CRAZY FINALE, possibly my most popular fic this year. I had a lot of feelings.

smart talker (1385 words)-- Capheus and Whispers and creepiness. Prompted.

** Lovely in Starlight (5080 words)-- Fucked up Lila/Kala fic bc sometimes you gotta do all the work for yourself. I like this one.

** first meetings (2294 words)-- Some Jonas what-ifs. 

Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab

Missive From Halfway Through "Seeing It" (1176 words)-- My first fic of the year, a NYR treat, epistolary fic with Kell and Rhy.

Qivuak (2635 words)-- Kell/Holland sex pollen fic for Chocolate Box treat.

** Interlude at the Hot Springs (3457 words)-- Also for Chocolate Box treat, a KELL/HOLLAND HOT SPRINGS FIC. Quite possibly my favorite dumbass premise of the year.

Lily London (2083 words)-- Quiet Kell and Holland fic.

Cat on the Bed (1980 words)-- Kell/Holland smut but they’re cat boys, assigned fic for the Smut Exchange. 

Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Think I Know Where You Belong (2004 words)-- Elmax fic, prompted.

** # An Errand in the City (3833 words)-- Kali meets Nancy and visits Hawkins to see El. Kali/Mick fic.

** Long Trek to a New Home (6476 words)-- Kalancy APOCALYPSE FIC, written for the apocalypse square of Trope Bingo.

we live in cities you'll never see onscreen (1321 words)-- Kali/Mick origin story, precanon.

** # hands that stitch (3187 words)-- Kali murders a dude at Nancy’s college, Kalancy.

The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner

tell me about the mede (655 words)-- I didn’t even write this this year, I just found it in a deleted text document. My QT writing is way down. 

The Sting (1973)

a smaller con (1373 words)-- Look I know y’all talk about Hooker/Gondorff but the real ship here is Hooker/Lonnegan k? 

イキガミ | Ikigami - All Media Types

it's galling how much i want to be good (3655 words)-- I started this fic like three years ago but only finished and posted this year. Whump. 

亜人 - 三浦追儺 & 桜井画門 | Ajin - Miura Tsuina & Sakurai Gamon those who drown together stay together (1352 words)-- Kou and Kei wash up on the shore. 

[thatesqcrush]

All Circuits Busy

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Dirty talk square for my kink bingo card. CW: well, it’s lots of dirty talk, male and female masturbation, degradation language. Another little one-shot off my Fall From Grace Series. Timeline wise, it would be around ch. 9, but can be read as a standalone.

WC: 1678

--

Bryan was surprised to see the small brown box from Molly’s Cupcakes on his desk. He opened the box and was greeted with six chocolate cupcakes with sprinkles on them. Taped to the inner box was a card. He ran his finger through the chocolate frosting of one cupcake before sucking it off his finger. “Mmm.” He hummed as the rich frosting coated his tongue. He picked up the accompanying card and opened it.

 Happy Birthday to my ornery asshole (but you’re my asshole & don’t you forget it. Love you) -Y/N

Bryan let out a small chuckle before picking up his phone and dialing your number.

“Pearson Specter. Y/N speaking.” You balanced the phone between your ear and shoulder as you finished electronically filing your motion. “How did you know?” Bryan asked into the receiver. He sat reclined in his chair as he swung his legs up onto his desk. You paused and then sat up fully, making sure to hold the phone correctly. “Your birthday?” You questioned, furrowing your brows. You leaned over to grab a pen, to sign off on a package that arrived. You tossed the package to the side, not bothering to see who it was from. “I don’t think I ever told you.” Bryan replied. “I have my sources.” You chuckled. “Oh so you admit that you have Bryan Kneef Google alert.” You laughed. “Could you be more full of yourself?” “No, but you could be full of me. And you will be, this weekend.” You rolled your eyes, before letting out a deep sigh. You knew you were about to disappoint him. “Bry, bad news.” Bryan let out his own sigh. “You’re not going to make it out to Chicago then, are you?”

“I am working on a merger and it needs to be wrapped up or Harvey Specter is going to have my hide. I need to be here. I’m sorry.” You explained sorrowfully. “I get it.” “I’ll make it up to you.” You promised. “You can make it up to me... now.” Bryan murmured. Wild, lascivious thoughts ran through his mind. He stood up and walked over to his office door and shut it.  

“I’m at work.” You warned, having an inkling as to what he was proposing. “That’s never stopped you before.” Bryan retorted. You bit your lip, feeling your internal resolve crumble. “Hold on. Let me switch to wireless.” You stood and closed the door to your office, making sure to lock it. You slipped the headphones on and made sure to close out of your current documents. “Back.” You replied. “Good.” Bryan breathed on the phone. “It’s such a shame I won’t be seeing you. The things we would do.” He hit a button on his phone unit, placing you on speaker phone. He felt his cock starting to stir. He rubbed himself from the outside of his pants. “Tell me.” You purred. Your heart began to race in anticipation.

“What are you wearing?” Bryan asked. 

You bit your lip before answering. “Black v-neck. And that little black pencil skirt that you love so much.”

“The one you wore when I first bent you over and fucked you?” Bryan’s mind flashed to the first time in your office. Your underwear was in his pocket as he took you from behind, coming deep inside of you. “Mmmm-hmmm, that’s the one.” You purred. “God... send me a picture. I want to see.”

 “One second.”

You reached over for your cellphone and took two photos: one of down your blouse and for the other, you hiked up your skirt and spread your legs, showing off the thin strip of material that dared call itself underwear. You hit send and waited in eager anticipation for Bryan’s response. You heard him growl and you keened. “I’m already so wet.” You purred some more. Your cellphone vibrated with a new incoming message and when you opened it, it was an image of his hand fisted around his thick, hard cock. Bryan’s cock was thick, with a large vein down the shaft, and stuck straight. You could see a bead of cum already at the head and both your mouth and your cunt salivated. “Oh fuck!” You swore. “That’s what I’d be doing if you were here.” Bryan grunted as he stroked his cock. You lowered your hand down and pulled your panties to the side. You let out a soft moan as your fingers rubbed your swollen nub. “Are you touching yourself?” Bryan asked.

“Yes.” You breathed. 

“Good girl.” Bryan replied. “Tell me what you think about when you play with yourself.” 

“You fucking me. I think about you making me come with that mouth of yours. Using me like your personal fuck toy.” You continued to rub slow circles on your clit. 

“I love making you come.” Bryan purred. “I love how your pussy grips my cock. It’s so fucking tight and wet.” Bryan grunted as he continued to stroke his cock. “If I was there, my face would be buried in between your legs and I wouldn’t stop until you came.” 

“Oh yes.” You sighed, slipping a finger inside. “I want to make your whole face wet with my juices. Feel that beard against my skin.” 

“Oh, so I shouldn’t shave?” 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You growled. You stroked yourself faster. Your tits strained against the confines of you bra. You could hear the sound of Bryan jerking off on the opposite side. “Tell me, how do I taste?” 

“So fucking delicious and sweet. I could eat your pussy forever.” 

“You have such a talented mouth.” 

You stood and shoved your panties roughly down, and sat back down, propping one leg on the edge of your desk, giving you better access to your most intimate part, so you could play with yourself more. 

“I am so fucking wet.” You used a hand to grab one of your breasts, squeezing as the other hand continued to stroke your clit. 

“Imagine my tongue on your clit, teasing you. Then, I would slide a finger inside you.” Bryan breathed on the phone. 

You moaned as slipped your finger back inside of your pussy. You imagined it was Bryan fucking you, hard and fast, not holding back. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

Bryan stroked himself rhythmically, squeezing at the base with every downstroke. “If you were here, this cock would be claiming that tight little pussy.” 

“You have such a gorgeous cock. I love it so much.” You moaned. “I miss feeling you in me. You always feel so good inside me.”

 Bryan spit into his hand before resuming his movements, now stroking faster. He let out a moan, imagining it was your tight, wet cunt gripping his cock instead. “I think I’m going to cum just thinking about it. Fuck - I love hearing you moan like that.”

You couldn’t even respond. You were too focused on the pleasure building as you finger fucked yourself. Bryan released himself once more to cup his balls, massaging gently before resuming his stroking. “Fuck I’m so hard right now. My cock would be buried deep inside you, fucking you so damn hard. Can you picture it?”

“Oh yes! Pound my little pussy with your big cock. You moaned again, quickening your movements. “I need you to fuck me hard, make me come.” 

“You are such a good little slut, aren’t you?” Bryan rasped. “Imagine this cock impaling that pussy, over and over. Filling you up with my load. It would drip out of you, making your thighs sticky.” 

Eyes closed, Bryan pictured the curves of your body, the sweat dripping off your skin.

He imagined your hot, soaking pussy wrapped around his cock, taking him deep. ““Do you know how beautiful it is to watch your body tremble as you come? To know that this cock is making you fall apart? I love that look on your face when you start to cum around my cock. Makes me want to come.”

You shuddered at his words, your skin pinpricking. “I want you to finish wherever you like.” 

“My darling, naughty minx. Maybe I should come in your mouth.” 

“Yes!” You whined. “Come in my mouth. I want to taste you.” 

“Keep that pretty little mouth open to me. Taste yourself when I am fucking that mouth.” Bryan growled. “That pretty little face deserves to get fucked.” 

““Oh fuck! I am going to cum,” you warned, the coil in your belly about to explode as you now just focused on your clit. 

“Come for me.” Bryan commanded as he pumped his length over and over again. “Tell me who owns your pussy!” 

You choked out Bryan’s name as you rubbed yourself to completion. You did not care who around you heard. As you came down, you could hear Bryan breathing deeply, the sound of him stroking his cock. Bryan moaned your name as his hips bucked; his balls felt heavy in his hands. That familiar coil in his gut emerged, signaling his own need for release. Bryan began to stroke himself feverishly, working faster and faster. 

“I am on my knees. Finish on my face… on my mouth. Like that time in your office.” 

Bryan’s hips jerked forward and he grunted your name as he came all over his hand and his pants. Bryan continued to stroke himself languidly, squeezing out every last bit of cum. With a shuddering sigh, he tried to bring his labored breathing back to normal. 

“Oh sir, give me every last drop of your delicious cum. Your little slut loves it.” You purred. 

“Fucking Christ, Y/N.” Bryan replied as he grabbed some tissues to clean up. “I ruined my suit. I have court this afternoon.” 

“Don’t you have spare?” You asked as you pulled up your panties and straightened yourself up. 

“I do, thankfully.” 

“Well there you go counselor. Now this was fun, but I really do have to get going. I have so much to do.” You sighed, looking back at your computer. 

“Finish that merger darling. I am flying out on the next flight after court.” 

-FIN-

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