#lil tiny ficlet

[shortbcofkoffee]

CW: abuse, alcoholism (very short tho)

Bruce was angry pretty often nowadays. If he wasn’t angry he was quiet and depressed, and that only happened when he was drunk. He’d lounge in random rooms in the manor with a half-empty bottle in his hand, half asleep and crying for Jason. 

Tim was used to people like that, he knew how to deal with it. When Jack drunk he became quiet and reserved. He locked himself in his study and stayed there for hours, wailing about his late wife. 

The difference between Jack and Bruce was Tim could be what Bruce needed. Inebriated, Bruce’s dizzy vision lent Tim the perfect tool. He’d call out for Jason and as long as Tim styled his hair a certain way, Bruce was none the wiser. He’d hold Tim’s face and kiss his forehead and whisper apologies. Tim could copy Jason’s voice well enough, or at least Bruce never said anything about it. The times Bruce did notice it was Tim resulted in him yelling and throwing things. He never hit Tim with his own hands, which was nice, but he rarely missed. Once he’d worked himself tired Tim could drag him to bed.

Tim doesn’t know when exactly Bruce started calling him Jason sober, but it starts to happen. He answers to it every time because otherwise Bruce would be angry. Or rather, he’d be angry either way but there was less tension when he goes along with it. Tim can’t remember the last time Bruce said his name, it’s always Robin, or Jason, or you. But he’s fine, Bruce was working through his grief while being Batman, he was stressed. Alfred calls him Timothy and that’s enough for now.

.

Tim is tired. He hasn’t slept in… he forgot how long—and his caffeine intake is at a critical low. He’s in the cave, which usually made this easier, but… he stares blankly at his screen and tries to remember how to type the next sentence. At some point, people walk in, he doesn’t know who or why, but they're arguing. He hears his name echo through the cave.

“Jason!” 

It’s Bruce. He’s angry, but not drunk angry. The type of angry he gets when Tim makes a small slip up, something inconsequential, but more than enough to punish him for. Tim runs through scenarios. He doesn’t know what he did but for something this small it’s probably just be impromptu training. Rough training where Tim would end up with a bruise from Bruce’s bo staff. He could probably deal with that right now. He spun around in his chair.

“Yeah, Bruce?”

The argument pauses and the two others look at him and Tim stares right back. He doesn’t know why Bruce isn’t answering until he gives his brain a second to process. Oh. Oh. Jason was standing right next to Bruce, holding back a snicker. He was talking to Jason. He hadn’t called Tim ‘Jason’ in years. Bruce’s eyes are wide as he stares back at Tim in shock. His jaw sets and tightens and Tim feels his body lock up. If Bruce wasn’t mad with him before he was now. Jason walks over and pokes a finger into Tim’s forehead.

“The hell was that, replacement, tryna take my name too?” He jokes. It’s a joke. Jason doesn’t know, no one knows.

Tim swats the finger away and turns his chair back around. “Sorry. Haven’t slept, thought I heard my name.”

“Yeah, we can tell.” Jason grabs Tim’s shoulder. “Go to bed, man, you’ve been awake for days.”

Tim glances over his shoulder at Bruce. He’s still staring, but now he’s scowling. His eyes dart back to Jason. “Yeah, okay.”

[lsunstreakerl]

using this hellsite for its intended purpose (posting smut on main)

this is technically two ficlets, but I'll be posting the second one later. for now, I gift u all 1.7k words of omegaverse, and it's actually max and esteban, omega/omega (I cannot believe I'm writing these words I am going to hell). hi yes hello mature content here. not violent just horny.

This is not any less embarrassing than Max had expected it to be, standing at Esteban's door at five in the morning. He hadn't even sent a heads up text, he'd just shown up.

He's not even sure if Ocon's in the country.

He hopes he's in the country- Max is kind of fucked otherwise, because then he's just standing in front of the door for nothing, and he's pretty sure this is preheat, but he doesn't fucking know.

His heat crisis at the airport hadn't been sexual at all. His cresting heat in his own flat in Monaco had been brutal, but tame compared to what's to come, and Max doesn't exactly have other omegas to ask.

It's not that he's scared, he just-

Well.

There's footsteps on the other side of the door, and then quiet for a moment- Esteban must be checking to see who it is.

Sure enough, the door swings open a few seconds later.

"Verstappen, what the fuck- oh shit."

Esteban smells good, is one of the things Max notes as he's being dragging inside, door shut behind him. He has a big fluffy nest on the floor of his living room, and there's an action movie paused on the screen, and-

Max is pretty sure he's talking to him.

"-aaaaaax. Hey, earth to Verstappen-"

Max blinks rapidly, and then he tips forward and buries his nose in Esteban's neck, pressed right against his scent gland.

"Ah!"

Esteban yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, and Max whines, because he smelled good and he wants more, and it's making him feel better being next to it.

"Why did you do this. Why the fuck- why did you come to me, how long have you even been an omega, what the fuck-"

Max feels a whine building in his chest, because that's a thing omegas do, and he's rapidly realizing he's going to need to get comfortable with a lot of uncomfortable things about his designation soon.

"Christ, okay- okay, come on."

Esteban is leading him into the living room, and Max hopes they're going to the nest, because Esteban's looks so good, better than anything Max has ever been able to build.

Esteban bats at his hands, gently nudging the side of Max's foot.

"Shoes, please."

Max toes them off, and then Esteban tugs him down into the nest, and it's so soft, soft and perfect, and Esteban's got this omega thing on lock.

Max immediately shifts towards Esteban, because he wants snuggles, wants the warm heat of someone else, and Esteban's scent is so nice, even if he smells concerned and bewildered at the moment.

"Right, preheat, okay. Maybe the Dutch do it differently."

Max almost wants to laugh. He has no idea how Dutch omegas nest or heat. He's never been allowed near other omegas.

Esteban sighs, and there's a begrudging type of fondness in his eyes for a moment.

"I'm doing this because I'm a good person, Max, so remember that next time you want to shove me, yes? Good. Come on, shirt off."

Esteban tugs his own shirt over his head, and Max's brain isn't quite moving at its normal pace, but he's compliant as Esteban bats at his hands, pulling Max's shirt off over his arms and shoulders before tossing it to the side somewhere.

Max just wants to snuggle.

Esteban pulls him in, letting Max settle his nose right above his scent gland, chest to chest in the nest as he pulls a blanket over them.

"You have no idea what you're doing."

Max makes a weak whimper, distracted by pressing his nose in until his brain is just a looping mantra of Esteban, Esteban, Esteban-

"Right."

Esteban kicks up a purr, and Max melts on top of him, loose muscles and head fuzzy. His throat hitches, but he can't quite make it go- still doesn't know how.

There's a nose in Max's hair, and one of Esteban's hands comes up by his neck, long fingers running down the side.

Max feels like there's a weighted blanket on his brain, making everything slow and syrupy.

He loses track of time- he's pretty sure Esteban starts his movie back up, based on the explosion noises.

Max barely even registers that he's softly grinding his hips over Esteban's thigh, only notices because Esteban's scent sweetens under his nose, and his purr gets louder.

"Max."

It's gentle, and Max makes a responding hum. His eyes are half open, not really seeing anything.

"Max, you are supposed to heat partner with an alpha."

Duh. Max would've done that, if he was out and trusted any of the alphas to handle him right- his first choice was Daniel, but he's out of the country with Scotty, and Max didn't want to interrupt their trip.

He can't exactly go to Seb.

Asking any of the garage members violates probably a million FIA policies and also the law in a few countries. Lando and George are omegas, but they're new and Max doesn't know either of them, which leaves him with Esteban. He'd shown up on a whim, even though he isn't part of the pack, because he knows he can't handle it alone.

An older, more experienced omega was the logical choice.

He doesn't realize he's whining until Esteban noses at his hair, scent wrapping around him.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me- it is okay, Max. I will help you."

Esteban hitches his thigh up and Max gasps, lightning bolts going through him at the change in angle. Long fingers run down the side of his neck before pressing down on his scent gland, and Max ruts forward, nose back in Esteban's neck. It feels good, and it smells good, and if things could stay slow and hot and nice just like this, Max might be okay with heats.

Esteban breaks that fantasy.

"Go on Max, get a good one in before your heat really hits."

Max whines softly, and Esteban sighs, hand slipping down Max's spine to settle on his lower back, helping him with the drag and slide of it all, the push-pull. Max's brain is liquid, a soft loop of sensation and feeling good.

It's not a rough orgasm by any means- it's gentle compared to others Max has had, washes through him in a way that's slow and overwhelming, leaves him collapsed against Esteban's chest, slick cooling between his thighs.

Esteban noses at him again- he's scenting him, gently pushing the side of their heads together. Max hasn't been scented by a member of the pack before- Daniel scented him regularly before he left, and Nico had done it frequently as well, but they're both gone now, and it's been a minute since anyone outside of Redbull bothered.

"You are okay with fingers? Toys? Mouth?"

Max's hips jerk again at the thought, face heating up. He nods against Esteban's neck, keeping his face hidden.

"Okay. Max, I am not set up for a heat at the moment- I need my alpha to come by with groceries, is that going to be alright?"

Esteban has an alpha? That can't be right- Max has his nose on top of Esteban's scent gland right now, there's definitely no mark here.

He noses at it pointedly, enjoying the spike is Esteban's scent at the sensation, his soft gasp.

"Don't be archaic Verstappen. I can have an alpha without having a bite. I have two, thank you very much."

Okay- Max knows the alphas of the pack significantly outnumber the omegas, but two is just greedy. His scent must change, because Esteban snorts.

"I didn't think you wanted Pierre or Charles, but if you want to share for your heat we can do that."

Max pauses for a moment. He's... actually not sure. He hasn't been with an alpha before, but if Esteban is here- if they listen to him-

Max isn't stupid. He knows his first proper heat is going to be bad, that's his consequence for being on suppressants for so long. Toys aren't going to cut it. They'll keep him from Red Heating, sure, but that's about where that ends.

He's going to be begging Esteban for something he can't give him.

Pierre isn't terrible. He's not close with the rest of the garage, and Max is pretty sure he's somehow managed to entirely miss the memo that Max is the pack omega- probably hasn't picked up on Redbull being a pack at all.

In his defense, there hasn't been a garage pack on the grid since before Max was born.

Charles- Max isn't sure how desperate a heat is going to make him, but if he ends up begging Charles to fuck him he's going to jump out the window when it's over.

Weird cresting heat induced insanity aside, Max has not once wanted anything to do with Charles. He's annoying and entitled, and Max still doesn't believe that he's actually an alpha.

He seems like the kind of guy to want to be a gentleman to an omega, which-

Charles has not once ever been gentle to Max, it's practically the foundation of their relationship, and Max isn't sure if he's going to want kindness and consideration for his heat.

He's not freaking out about it, he just-

He doesn't know.

He's whining into Esteban's neck again, a slow need starting to build deep inside of him. He wants them, he doesn't want them, he cares, he doesn't care- everything is so difficult.

Esteban rattles out another purr, scent heavy in the room. Max settles, nose full of fresh snow and eucalyptus.

He nods his head, a tiny shift, and Esteban's scent takes on a pleased note, sweet and satisfied.

"They will be good, I promise. I'll kick them out if they aren't."

Max is fairly confident that's not how that works, but maybe the French are different. Esteban slides one hand to tap at his phone as the other shifts from Max's back to the front of his hips.

"Okay?"

Max nods, and he's sure his own scent is all over the place, canting his hips up for Esteban to slide his hand down under his waistband, long fingers cool against his overheated skin.

His scent spikes again and Esteban purrs, nosing gently at him.

"It's okay, Max. It's alright, you're okay."

Everything is-

It's a lot.

Max is whining, a soft noise as Esteban works his fingers inside of him, and they're so different from Max's, feel alien inside him, but they feel good too, and Max-

Max wants to be good, wants to show Esteban that he knows how to be an omega, a good omega, even if the pack doesn't want him.

He knows it's not his strongest area- he's poured all his time and effort into racing, doesn't know what to do with himself outside of it, but this- Esteban's fingers inside him, Max's nose pressed into his neck, a slow build- this feels good. It feels right.

[alwaysurvalentine]

terrible movies - st ficlet

Based on the prompts: Movies & Fur for my 12 Days of Christmas Mini Event card for @steddiebingo | wc: 795 | cw: none

enjoy! 💛

Eddie should be arriving any minute now. Steve’s been collecting all of the blankets in his apartment for their movie night. So far he’s grabbed a couple throw blankets gifted from Mrs. Claudia and Ms. Joyce, his comforter from his bed, and the hall closet is calling to him now to see if there’s anything hidden there. A knock sounds right as he opens the hall closet so Steve grabs the blankets he sees and heads for the living room again.

“It’s open!” 

Barely a moment passes before the door swings open, bags crinkling from where they hang on Eddie’s arm.

“Hey, sweetheart!” 

Eddie grins and toes his boots off, laces already undone. Steve can see the outline of different candies in the bag, but he’s most excited for the sour gummy worms. A six pack gets set on the table and then Steve’s been tugged closer to Eddie. A kiss gets pressed to both of cheeks (a habit Eddie picked up when he heard about the infamous Mrs. Harrington greeting Steve the same way) and then finally a kiss to his lips (an Eddie-only specialty).

“What’d you bring us?”

“Just some snacks, plus the best movies I could find.” The grin on Eddie’s face turns mischievous though, backing up to show off his choices. Just by the covers alone Steve knows he’s in for a night of making fun of bad acting. 

He’s cut off from answering when the oven beeps. “Go ahead and put one of those in, I made pizza.” 

The kitchen is nice and warm when he steps in, oven heating the small space. His heating has been out for the past few days, fan running but only succeeding in pushing air around with no warmth. As soon as he’d realized, Steve called the office but with the landlord on vacation it’s a waiting game for it to be fixed. Hopefully he and Eddie will be curled up under the blankets by the time the chill settles back in the apartment. 

~

This is the second movie they’ve watched, the first one a horror movie with an ending where the killer gets away with it – Steve’s least favorite. What’s the point of having a final girl if she’s going to die in a cut to black scene? Luckily, Eddie hasn’t said anything about the cold surrounding them. On the screen, the main love interest is pulled into a desperate kiss. 

“Wait, why is she forgiving him? He literally slept with her sister? And hit on her mom?” 

Eddie tries to answer through his laughter, “Because she’s in love with him and he can do no wrong. Stop looking at me like that! I’m not the one who wrote it that way!” 

“You’re the one that brought the movie!”

“That’s just because I knew you’d get all worked up about it. You always have something to say about what the characters are doing, it’s not like people in real life act like this.” Eddie eats another handful of popcorn, kernels falling to the floor, before he sits back. 

“I think we should move on to the most important question of the night.”

Or maybe Eddie had noticed how cold the apartment was.

“What is this?” 

Or not. 

Eddie’s got a furry blanket pinched between two fingers and held out between them like it’s diseased. To be fair to him, the texture looks like a wet dog, fur stuck up in odd places and smooth in others. Steve has no idea how the blanket is in his possession. It must be one of the ones he grabbed from the closet, but after this it’ll be in the trash for sure. 

“Be honest with me,” and Eddie’s face morphs into one a little more serious, “is this from an animal?” The right corner of his mouth is twitching though, curling into a smile when Steve shakes his head quickly.

“Absolutely not! Why would I have something made from a literal animal in my house? No way. It’s just some old blanket that I didn’t realize was in the closet when I was grabbing blankets. Give it to me.” 

The blankets covering them are tangled up in their legs, but Steve still manages to get out without uncovering Eddie. He takes the blanket from Eddie’s pinched fingers and heads towards the front door. No point in putting it into the trash when he can place it here and just take it out next time he leaves. Steve drops it in a pile right below where he hangs his keys and heads back to the living room. Next time he heads out he can toss it.

Right now he’s got more important things to do, like cuddle up with his boyfriend and judge terrible script writing. 

[mortimerlatrice]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: KinnPorsche: The Series (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Big/Tae Taechin Lerttravinont

Characters: Big (KinnPorsche: The Series), Tae Taechin Lerttravinont

Additional Tags: Dom/sub, collaring, Day Collars, Dom Tae, sub big, it may be Dom/sub but it's all fluff, entirely self indulgent

Series: Part 1 of Blossoms

Words: 689

Summary:

Big presents Tay with a gift.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

'If you loved me, you'd let me have the last one.'  & Firstprince please lovely 💛💛

not sure how this one turned smutty ... alas that is where we are tho lolz - but in a novel for me moment i wrote smut in under 500 words

this can also be found on ao3 if you'd rather

smut under the cut!

“If you loved me, you'd let me have the last one …” Alex is cut off by Henry’s lips on his. “I think it’s just that you want to be the first to provide,” Henry says, kissing down Alex’s throat as he pushes himself up off where he rests on Alex on the sofa in their office. “I think it’s only fair, after all your dick calls to me,” he says, rolling Henry onto his side so he can run his hand along Henry’s cock through his boxers. Alex moves so Henry is underneath him on the sofa and slides his t-shirt up, placing kisses as he moves down between his legs. Henry arches up into him, and Alex knows he will get his way. He makes quick work of removing Henry’s boxers and doesn’t waste any time getting his mouth on Henry’s cock. It doesn’t take long to get him close to the edge, and Alex can tell he’s trying not to buck up into his mouth. He hollows his cheeks and sucks, and Henry is coming down his throat, a huff of a laugh slipping between his lips that still makes Alex smile all these years later. It takes a moment for Henry to catch his breath, but he soon has Alex on his back, boxers tossed to the floor and working him toward orgasm. Alex knows it won’t take long, knows he could have come earlier with a bit of rutting against the sofa. While he’s done that many times, he knows that he needs to feel the heat of Henry’s mouth around him this time. Wants to feel the way Henry is now hollowing his cheeks just right to provide the perfect sensations as he slides his mouth along Alex’s cock. He’s trying so hard not to rock up into Henry’s mouth as he gets closer to completion. He feels his balls tighten, and his spine arches as he comes into Henry’s mouth. Alex lies on the couch panting, attempting but failing to get his hands on Henry to pull him up. Luckily, Henry understands and crawls up to place a kiss on Alex’s lips. It’s chaste and beautiful, but Alex needs a bit more; he pulls Henry in and kisses him with everything he’s got left. As much as he loves having Henry’s lips wrapped around his cock, he’ll never tire of getting to kiss those lips. Feeling them pressed against his own and laying claim to them whenever he wants is one of the best things about being in the same place for the last few years.

[kinnbig]

My current WIPs, in the order I last looked at them and for which I have actually written something

thank you for tagging me @kimchaybrainrot I love u (also I am 👀 at all of those but especially the KenBig HI I'M LISTENING INTENTLY.)

Chart Topper chapter 7 (Arm) - I've been working on this today! I love the concept for this chapter and it's finally getting there 🥰

Burnout aka "phoenix fic" - ah yes. the KenBig wip that was supposed to be a lil 2-3k fic that only took a week or so to write... that is now sitting at 20k four months later and still isn't done. rip. I love it so much though, I'm so excited to be able to share this one

assorted kiss prompt ask game ficlets - whoops. TWO MONTHS AGO I did an ask game for fic prompts to try and get me out of my writer's block.. and it worked! I posted 6 kiss prompt ficlets! but uh. there are 11 more in various states of completion 💀 personal faves include some ArmTankhun, some fucked up KenBig, and some RamKing ft Ram wearing a skirt 👀

ArmKhun fake dating fic - one of my favourite fic concepts EVER that has sadly taken a backseat in my brain because of Chart Topper and Burnout. but SOON I will return to my beloved

f/f KimChay - uhhhh. this is just shameless femslash pwp because. I think they should have been lesbians.

Let Me Live in Your Mind chapters 3 & 4- this fic is not abandoned I promise I'm still working on it! I'm just. slow 🫣

Footnotes aka "the Big and Ken centric pain and sadness compilation" lmao - this was suuuuch a huge project for me that I started basically immediately after KinnPorsche ended that just. idk. it's so long. it's not abandoned but it's very much on the back-burner rn

there are also many many half-written oneshots in there that I didn't put in the list because they'll probably never get finished (RamKing fake dating au, ArmKhun fic where Khun kills Korn, a KimChay exes with benefits thing, etc etc...) I just hoard WIPs like a dragon in a cave I can't help it!

I think lots of people have already been tagged so sorry if this is a double tag! but I'm tagging @sidras-tak @giraffeter @tumsa @prismatic-witch @days-of-storm @cytharat @snickerdoodlles - but no pressure of course! 💖

[mushiewrites]

97, 13, 52 with lee George and ler whoever you want :3 <3 have funnnn ilu

from this post

13 - “You know it’s wrong to lie, right?” / 52 - "That's adorable." / 97 - "Hm, but I thought you weren't ticklish?" / 868 words

Sapnap heard giggling coming from the living room, George's mischievous cackles grabbing his attention away from the open refrigerator for a moment before turning his head back to look over the drink selection. He grabbed a Dr. Pepper and closed the door with the heel of his foot, turning around and grabbing the bag of chips from the counter with his free hand and heading towards the living room.

As he walked into the carpeted room, he stopped suddenly, brows furrowed in annoyance when he spotted a certain brunette now curled up in the corner part of the L shaped couch, bundled up in the blankets Sapnap had on moments before.

"Seriously George? I leave for five seconds and you take my spot!" He watched as the oldest boy lifted his head, giving him a warm smile with eyes squinted into the tiniest crescent moons, almost melting Sapnap for a moment before he remembered what George had done.

"I like this spot!" George leaned back into the corner of the couch, wiggling in the spot a few times to signify that he was staying there, whether Sapnap liked it or not.

"Well, don't get used to it, cause you're moving."

"What?! I'm not!"

"George...." Sapnap growled in almost a whisper, turning around and placing his can of soda and chips on the table before turning back around to face him. "I'm gonna need you to move immediately."

"And if I don't?"

"You don't wanna find out."

George simply giggled at the threat, flashing a bright smile over to Dream, who was sat on one end of the couch, watching in amusement and waiting to see how it unfolds. The brunette only sunk further down into the couch, making Sapnap scream out in what only could be described as a battle cry. Dream watched with eyes wide as saucers as Sapnap flung himself onto the couch, grabbing at George and pulling any limb he could grab onto.

"Sapnap, get off! What are you, AHA! Don't!" George squirmed around as much as he could as the younger boy climbed on top of him, leaning on his thighs and straddling his waist and grabbing at his flailing arms. In his frenzy of trying to pull George off of the couch and out of his spot, his hand grabbed at his thigh, right above the knee, making George cry out with a hard kick and effectively freezing Sapnap's movements.

"What happened-"

"Nothing!"

"But you-"

"No! I'm not!"

Sapnap was confused with George's wording until he realized what actually happened, his confused frown slowly growing into an entertained smile as he poked at the older boy's tummy, making him jolt backwards with a squeal.

"Hm, but I thought you weren't ticklish? What happened, kitten?"

George scoffed at the accusation, grabbing at Sapnap's wrists now that he had the brief opportunity to, and held them away from his body. Sapnap began to wiggle his fingers, making George burst into nervous giggles.

"I'm nohot!"

"You know it’s wrong to lie, right?"

The elder felt his cheeks growing hotter, nodding slowly as he sunk back into the couch as much as he could. He quickly wrapped his arms around himself, pulling as many blankets over himself as he could to try and prevent Sapnap from breaking through, but it was no use. In seconds he felt hands squeezing at his knees, working their way up to his thighs and causing him to kick out with a shriek.

"STOHOHOP!"

"That's adorable! But no. No I will not." Sapnap smiled sweetly down at George, who was practically laying with his back against the seat of the couch with how much he had squirmed in an attempt to escape the tickling hands.

"Plehehease!"

"Hmm...nah! I think you need to earn that spot. Don't you agree, Dream?" Sapnap turned his head briefly to catch the blonde's eye, smiling when he saw the way Dream's fingers were clenching against his own thighs.

"Oh definitely. You need to earn the spot, Georgie."

"And I know the perfect way you can!" The youngest boy giggled, turning his attention back to George for a moment before turning his body towards Dream, motioning him to come over to where they were sat. "Care to join in, Dreamie?"

"It would be my honor."

George swallowed thickly through panicked laughter, holding his hands out in front of him and waving them at the two younger boy's, pushing and grabbing at the others hands every time they went to attack.

Sapnap and Dream played this game with him for a while, just hovering their hands over George, long enough that his anticipation was through the roof and floating amongst the stars. It was only then that they finally took pity on the giggly boy, both diving in with both hands and squeezing wherever they could. George was in hysterics in minutes, kicking and screaming and begging and cackling like his life depended on it. Sapnap focused on squeezing at George's ribs while Dream's hands fit perfectly around his thighs, matching Sapnap's pace and smiling when George squealed.

By the end of the night, the two made sure George earned that spot on the couch, not leaving a single spot untickled.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Ficlet prompt! Russingon + fairytale AU + “I’ve got you, I’ve got you” for the dialogue, if that catches your fancy ❤️

Thank you so much @theghostinthemargins! This was a very fun exercise, super involving, hope you enjoy it <3

Prompt from this list of AUs, the ask box is always open!

-

The dragon had been a surprise. 

Not a very great surprise, all things considered. Fingon had faced the sheer ravines, with their deep, ragged crevasses scattered with the bones of the valiant; had fought with sword and bold will the giant spider and her entrapping maze of illusions. 

The last of the caves lead him up, up the steep mountainside. There, nestled among the rock, carved out of it, stood a high and narrow and treacherous tower.

And atop that tower glinted a light of steel, and the paleness of bare flesh; and hair like fire burning in a pyre.

 Fingon’s heart, stout in the face of horrible death, and suffering, and eldritch Powers far vaster than him, leap in his chest with fright and joy at the sight, even as the great serpent uncoiled itself from around the tower, slowly, painfully slowly. 

He had not doubted - he had not allowed himself to doubt. But that iron certainty proved true, at last. The prince in the tower was bound, naked and defiant, hanging from the crenelation - but he lived, he lived, he raised up his head and saw him, and the distant voice of his beloved called out -

“Findekáno, Finno, run!”

And, of course, there was the dragon guarding the tower; immense it was, and more frightful even than the great spider, for it breathed a sulphorous steam with every breath, and its wings were very strong, its claws as wide and as tall as him. 

 Fingon had no intentions of running from him. He had come to free his friend - to save his betrothed, to claim the prize of peace between his divided people, to bring back Maitimo, his Russandol. 

Glaurung rained flame upon him. He found he could not look away frm those glittering golden eyes, cat-like and full of malice, and such a vast intelligence it made all the cunning of atisans and all the cleverness of craft, and rhetoric, and ruling, seem pale and petty and clumsy.

“It is no use,” the beast laughed. Its voice was very great, and deceptively soft: it slithered in the air, and the stones, coiled darkly around the nerves of the skull and the courage of the heart. “Deceiver and betrayer, false friend and false leader I name you: cowardly at heart, and evil the courage of your blade. Come not nearer, and I might let you go free, Findekáno Astaldo. It is a mercy I give you, and better than you have earned; the thing you mean to free for yourself would bring you to worse evil than mine own.”

“That may be,” Fingon said. “It likely would be. But I have heard some stories of your kind, worm. And great and mighty as you are, potent as the Doom laid upon my kin, still I say there is a thing that may defeat your evil, and kill the prophecy of evil over the Noldor. Hail, and listen!”

Hail, and listen!, he called in his heart to Maedhros, willing his fiercely to enter into his scheme. Listen, and believe, for I cannot believe enough for both of us -

He could not know whether Maedhros even heard him. All of this journey had been made on cunning and courage and faith, and here was the greatest challenge of all. 

Fingon filled his lungs with air, raised his bow, but he did not take aim. He did something else - wilder, and more foolish, the sort of thing a hero from a tale might do.

He sang. He sang of love lost, and love found; he sang of love that lead to slaughter, of distant fires and insurmountable betrayal. He sang of the Ice, which too was insurmountably, and which he did cross. 

Glaurung stepped back; but Fingon did not pursue. He did not have to. He sang of his sorrow, and his love’s sorrow; and he sang of his long journey. The journey’s end, as well: the curve of the arrow in the sky, the shuddering of the tower-stones as the dragon fell, the warmth of his beloved falling into his arms at last.

This is the thing about songs of love, in great tales. They can break every curse; all of them, all of them, if someone is mad and foolish and valiant enough to believe they might. To know, and make it known into the greater Music - this here is a great deed, a great love, and nothing shall stain it. 

Fingon believed it so, entirely. It filled him up, voice and marrow. It aimed the arrow for him, his faith, and bled his palms for him as he scrambled upwards to meet Maedhros, and pull him up, and up, and into his arms - at last, just as in the song.

Then, he was quiet. He was very tired, gasping; and Maedhros too trembled with terrible weariness. His arm was chained still, and would not be unchained. Great love might end curses, Fingon knew, but it demanded its price.

“Finno,” said Maedhros. His face was stark with bruises, hidden in filth. His eyes shone with a terrible light; he was smiling, and that was a terrible smile as well. “I could not credit it, I very nearly could not believe it - what madness possessed you -”

Maedhros had not hoped from escape, during all his torment, had been quite without hope in all things for to hope would be to imagine any of his kin coming to awful danger - but he had ceased to disbelieve, as Fingon sang. He, too, was a prince of the Noldor, and a scholar and lore-master, a splendid orator in his own right. He knew all the tales, and the laws that governed the world; how very much the boundaries of it were laid upon mad trust, mad belief.

Fingon had needed his faith, for the spell to hold its power against a dragon’s might; and so, for him, for him only, Maedhros had believed. Defiance would have been easier to ask from him; endurance would have been easier. But love demanded much, and Fingon had not climbed terrible cliffs and faced pitiless memories for a small love.

And he had done it.

To hang in estel as Fingon did battle and believe fully in his victory, to lend his faith and press it against thirty years of despair, against chains and torment and Glaurung’s smothering power, had been a very great working of power. Magic, in its truest sense: a spell made up all of will, strong and burning. 

That had always been Maedhros’ strength, the foundation of the skills that had made him mighty in war-magics; and that had been that which his enemies most sought to ruin. He laughed, victorious in survival, uncanny with the last of his power running hot in his veins; and then at last it dimmed, and he wept as he laughed, holding Fingon all the more tightly.

“I have you,” Fingon whispered back, voice torn to shreds, never to be strong enough to sing again. His own price, and gladly given.

He closed his arms around the feverish warmth of his beloved, let go of the bow, did not care to watch it fall unheeded upon the wreck of the dragon beneath. “I knew you could do it. I knew we could - Ai, Maitimo, Marítimo. My Russandol. I have got you, I have got you."

[serenescribe]

don't be shy tell us about hollow moon's bad ending :) (also such a great fic!!! your writing gives me so many emotions i had to lie down like a fainting victorian woman)

oh my god ;; okay, so- i feel like i should highlight first that this is all stuff that mainly got thrown around inside my head; i never actually wrote anything out properly? so this might come off more as a deranged rambling than anything else aha-

tbh the bad ending feels kinda self-explanatory: the moon wins. that's all there is to it; either sebek and malleus don't get there in time so silver manages to throw lilia off with magic and escape through the portal, or malleus' attempt to cut off his magic fails... et cetera, et cetera.

i got really tempted to write that. sheep (friend who helped me a lot with hollow moon) and i REALLY like the moon (we call her "moonie") and it just got really tempting to write a bad ending where she's basically toying with silver, dressing him in pretty clothes and making him entertain her, and kind of sort of managing to keep him alive (barely) while his mind's just a complete mess under the full extent of her thrall. idk, i'm a sucker for Women™ who do things like that. y'all don't know how much i liked writing moonie toying with silver in the dream sequences in hollow moon (answer: a lot)

except the problem is that this bad end led me to think about a good end to the bad end (convoluted!!), which utilises one of my favourite tropes in general: rescue missions. do you think?? the other three are just gonna take this lying down?? they're gonna find a way to break in and drag silver back and AAAAA i had to throttle and restrain myself from scrapping the original ending and writing that because. Do You KNOW how much i fucking LOVE rescue missions?? malleus 1v1's the moon while lilia and sebek go looking for silver (who is just unconscious and left in a pretty little tower somewhere in those mountains, sleeping in a bed while moonie deals w the pesky intruders...) something something the horror of seeing ur son just fucking Gone mentally and needing to drag him out before it's too late. anyways

IDK I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE but man. hollow moon. sure did take a lot out of me. moonie is a #girlboss and i love her. tbh the main reason why i didn't scrap it is bc 1) i think the fic would've gotten another 20k words and i was not strong enough and 2) i still like the og ending. i think it fits perfectly and i had it in mind since the beginning so i wasn't gonna just scrap it. IT WAS STILL TEMPTING THOUGH-

(also thank you!!! i'm glad you enjoyed! i'm filing that under my list of incredibly specific compliments that made my day aaaaa)

[loulou-land]

Don’t Leave Me (I’m Staying)

This was meant to be a tiny lil ficlet based on a prompt line (that I didn’t even end up using in the actual fic) and then it turned into this…a drunk bucktommy fix-it of sorts lol. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it! Ps. Tommy is hard on himself in this one and blames himself entirely for the break up, that in no way represents my opinions on the matter. It’s just how it turned out in this fic 😋

bucktommy | wc: 2,711 | post break up, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort |

Read here or on ao3

The call came in a little past midnight. Tommy had gone to bed early—after the usual romantic comedies failed to hold his attention and only made him feel more miserable. He’d hoped for a rare, dreamless sleep. But instead he found himself trapped in one of his recurring nightmares—memories of leaving the loft, ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him—when the sharp ring of his phone jolted him awake, his heart pounding before his brain caught up.

Squinting at the screen, his breath hitched.

E. Buckley

He almost dropped his phone in his haste, thumb fumbling to answer the call before it stopped ringing.

“B—Buck?” he stammered. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause, and then a voice that was definitely not Evan’s, heavy with irritation and booze, spoke.

“Hey, this Tommy?”

Tommy frowned, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, that’s me. Where’s Evan? Is he okay?” His mind raced, already conjuring a million scenarios, none of them good.

“Define ‘okay’,” the guy snorted. Tommy’s stomach dropped before he focused on the rest of the words. “Your boy’s shit-faced. Keeps crying and saying your name. Maybe come get him so the rest of us can drink in peace?” the man slurred.

Tommy’s heart lurched at the thought of Evan crying. He forced out a tight thanks to the drunk man, getting the name of the bar while he yanked on his jeans and boots. Thirty-five minutes later, he was parked in front of a dingy-looking dive lit by flickering neon signs and plastered with shady looking posters promising “quality alcohol.”

For a moment, he debated calling someone else—Eddie, or maybe even Sergeant Grant—but then wondered why Evan would come to an out of the way dive like this, alone. Steeling himself, Tommy decided to go in, keeping 9-1-1 dialed on his phone, just in case.

It didn’t take long to find him. Evan was sprawled over the bar top, head buried in his folded arms, his curls sticking out every which way. Tommy’s heart raced at the sight of him, as well as feeling an overwhelming sense of relief at once again being in the same room as Evan.

Tommy made his way through the bar, clocking in all the exits and keeping an eye on the other patrons, bracing himself for any trouble.

“Hey, Ev—Buck,” he hastily corrected himself, as he came up beside him. “Let’s get you home.”

Bleary baby blue eyes lifted, unfocused but just as bright as always. A lopsided grin spread across Evan’s face.

“Tommy” he slurred, his voice full of unguarded wonder. “My Tommy.”

Tommy’s chest tightened painfully at Evan’s words. He knew he’d be Evan’s until the day he died—leaving that night hadn't changed that, had only made it worse. It had made him realize that Evan was it for him. But it also confirmed what he’d always feared: Evan deserved more than a broken man like him. Still, hearing Evan call him his, ignited a flicker of hope he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. Not right now.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered. “You okay, Buck?”

“Nooo,” Evan protested, shaking his head so vehemently he almost tumbled off the stool, if not for Tommy catching him and keeping a steady hand on him.

“Not Buck,” Evan mumbled, burping mid-sentence. “Not to you. Ev…Evan,” he said, poking Tommy in the chest and trying to glare at him—a glare somewhat softened by the way he kept squinting and hiccuping.

Tommy exhaled a shaky laugh, a pang of something tender and broken twisting deep in his chest. Even like this, Tommy couldn't help but be absolutely endeared by the other man.

“Alright, Evan. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I don’t want to go home, it’s empty a…and—lonely” Evan replied quietly, eyes shifting away as he made himself smaller.

“Hey, no…it’s okay.” Tommy’s heart cracked, guilt taking hold of him. “I’ll take you to Eddie’s—”

“Ha!” Evan cuts in, chuckling bitterly. “No, that’s empty too.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy frowned, feeling a sense of foreboding creep up on him.

“He’s in Texas, looking at houses,” Evan paused, exhaling deeply. “He’s leaving…everyone leaves me. Why—” He trailed off, slumping as though the weight of everything was suddenly falling over him.

Tommy went rigid, the raw vulnerability in Evan’s voice cutting through him like a blade. Tommy thought he had braced himself for whatever tonight would bring but he hadn’t prepared for this—seeing the possible aftermath of his absence carved into the man he loved.

“Okay,” Tommy said, his resolve crumbling. His next words came out hesitantly, almost afraid…of what, he didn’t know. Rejection or the thought of what would come after—inevitably breaking his own heart again. “I’ll take you to my house.”

He knew it was selfish, he didn't have a right to this anymore, no right to be the one Evan leaned on. But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to take care of Evan, just for tonight, even if saying goodbye in the morning might destroy him.

“With you?” Evan asked, his voice trembling with disbelief as he looked up at him.

Tommy’s stomach dropped. “Yeah, sweet…heart,” his voice catching on the endearment that slipped out. “With me. I want to make sure you're okay. Is that alright? I can call Bobby or Hen if you’d rather—”

“No!” Evan yelled, eyes wide and glassy. “Take me with you, please?”

“Shh,’’ Tommy soothed, gently brushing away the tears gathering at the edges of Evan’s eyes. “Don’t cry, honey. You can come with me.”

It took some effort to get him upright, but eventually, Tommy had an arm around Evan’s waist and one of Evan’s draped over his shoulder as they headed for the door.

Suddenly, a man stepped in front of them.

“So, you came for your boy?” the man slurred, swaying unsteadily. Tommy recognized his voice as the caller.

Tommy tensed, his mind racing through potential threats, readying himself to protect Evan. Only, instead of hostility or the expected homophobic barb, the man pointed a half-empty beer at him and said, “You better fix it. Take him home and grovel.”

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…yeah,” he managed, unsure how else to respond.

The drunk shook his head and stumbled back toward the bar, muttering incomprehensible things all the while.

Tommy exhaled deeply. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he muttered, tightening his grip on Evan as they headed for the exit.

______________________________________

The drive to his house was quiet, except for the occasional hiccup or muttered word from Evan.Tommy had gotten him to drink a full water bottle, before Evan slumped against the passenger window for the rest of the trip. He did his best to drive carefully, not wanting to dislodge him or have him bump his head. Tommy kept his eyes on the road but couldn’t help glancing at him every few seconds.

When they finally arrived, Tommy parked and hurried to the passenger side, slipping an arm under Evan’s knees and bracing the other against his back. He lifted him with a grunt, feeling Evan’s steady weight against him as the other man buried his face in Tommy’s neck, sniffing deeply and mumbling against his skin. The sensation of Evan’s lips on his neck sent a shiver throughout his body.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy moved inside, carrying Evan to the couch. He eased him down gently, propping him up as he kneeled in front of him to tug off his shoes, feeling Evan’s eyes following his every movement as he did so.

Then Evan mumbled, hesitantly. “Tommy, I’m sorry…just, sorry.”

Tommy froze, his throat tightening. He looked up sharply. “Evan, you don't need to apologise for this. I'm always happy to help you,” he said, keeping his voice calm, trying to soothe him.

But Evan shook his head weakly, a new wave of tears spilling over his flushed cheeks. “No.” he whispered, voice breaking. “I'm sorry for being too much. For messing it all up. I always…jump ahead of myself and…I didnt mean to scare you away.” His voice trailed off in a pleading tone.

The words hit Tommy like an avalanche, burying him under their weight and his breath left him in a rush. His hands stilled, hovering over Evan’s untied laces as his chest clenched painfully. Too much? He couldn't believe what he was hearing. When Tommy left that night, he knew he was breaking both their hearts, but he thought Evan would be able to move on easily. He’d convinced himself that someone as bright, good and incredibly kind as Evan would find someone better—someone who really deserved him. And in the end, Tommy wouldn’t be missed.

But, he hadn't anticipated this. He hadn't anticipated this.

Tommy sat back on his heels, trembling as the realization of Evans words and his own actions crashed down on him. He needed to fix this. He couldn't live with himself knowing that this wonderful selfless man blamed himself for Tommy’s cowardice.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly, his voice catching in his throat as he tried to draw Evan’s eyes to his. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing a stray curl from Evan’s damp forehead, his breath stuttering when Evan followed the motion.

Tommy swallowed hard in the silence of the room, broken only by Evan’s quiet sniffles.

“It wasn't you, okay? It wasn't you, Evan.” Tommy said, his voice thick, as he emphasized Evan’s name, needing him to understand that. “This…It was entirely on me.”

Evan frowned, the words lighting a fire in his eyes and stirring something defiant in him. His expression shifted, his mouth tightening as his brows furrowed in bitter disbelief. “Really?” He scoffed, voice cutting. “You're giving me the "it's not you, it's me" line?” A bitter laugh spewing from his mouth. “They all leave me, but it's okay…because it's not me,” he said derisively.

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “You want to know something funny? I didn't think you’d leave. But—” His hands rose up to his face, gripping it as though trying to keep the words in, before giving up. They dropped limply to his lap.

Tommy’s heart twisted, knowing what was coming. He could already feel the sting of it.

“You left. You left me, Tommy.”

Evan’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the words still reverberated in the room.

And Tommy shattered.

Those words, they obliterated him. Every defense he had crumbled, leaving him raw and exposed, guilt bleeding through every crack. He felt the tears running down his face, and he tried to hold himself together—not wanting Evan to see what his words had done to him. But wasn’t that the very thing that had brought them here? Tommy hiding himself away from the world, scared to show himself for fear of being hurt. But he was already hurting—and had been from the moment he walked out the door that night.

He looked up at Evan, whose face was heartbreakingly vulnerable, tears shimmering in his blue eyes, but completely open to him, his pain laid bare for Tommy to see. It was only fair, Tommy did the same.

“I know,” Tommy rasped, voice thick and uneven. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

He pressed a hand to his chest—instinctive, desperate—as if trying to hold his heart together.

For one wild moment, Tommy wished he could rip it out and hand it to Evan, to show him that it had always been his. From the day Evan had smiled at him after a hurricane rescue gone well, Tommy’s heart had belonged to him. It always would. Instead, his fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, useless, trembling, trying to show how much he meant it.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he whispered again.

Evan blinked at him, fresh tears spilling over as he exhaled a trembling breath. The room was silent save for their uneven breathing. They just looked at each other, months of pain and longing passing unspoken between them.

Then, they moved at the same time—Tommy leaning forward, giving in to the urge to touch, to comfort, to heal. He gathered Evan in his arms, pulling him close.

“You didn’t mess anything up, baby.” Tommy murmured, the endearment coming out naturally again. He felt Evan’s head drop to his shoulder, shuddering against him. “I did. I was scared. Scared of you seeing the real me…the broken man behind the façade. And I thought—” he stopped, his throat closing up painfully for a second. “I thought leaving would protect my heart. That it would be better if I left before I got in any deeper. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any better. Oh god…Evan.”

A sob tore through him as he held Evan tighter, his grip unyielding, as if letting go might break him once and for all. Evan’s arms wrapped around him just as fiercely, his hands clutching at Tommy’s back with equal desperation.

For the first time in months, Tommy let himself feel everything he’d been holding back. The pain of being apart from Evan, the weight of his regrets and endless “what ifs�� that had haunted him—all of it poured out in body shaking sobs. But this time, he wasn't alone. Evan was there, holding him through it.

And Tommy felt Evan’s pain too—he accepted it, welcomed it, knowing he had caused it. It was his to carry, and he’d carry it for as long as he needed to.

Evan didn't say anything for a while, his face buried against Tommy's neck as he took in shaky, uneven breaths—shivering in his arms. When Evan finally spoke, his voice was a broken whisper. “It hurt. It hurt so much, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. He nodded, taking responsibility for the hurt, before giving in to the need and pressing a soft kiss to the side of Evan’s head.

He knew Evan wasn't trying to hurt him with those words. He just wanted Tommy to understand and…he did.

Tommy’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper when he at last pulled himself together. “I can’t take away what I did, but if you’ll let me…I’ll do my best to make it better.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with a promise Tommy didn’t intend to break. Evan pulled back, searching his face before taking both of Tommy’s hands in him, squeezing emphatically with every word that spilled from him. “We…We will make it better. Together an—and, we’re going to stay for each other. O—okay?” he stuttered.

Tommy felt something click, something slot back inside of him—relief, grief, hope, love—all fitting together in a way that finally made sense. “Okay.” he answered, unhesitatingly, with the full conviction of a man who’d gone through hell and made it out.

Evan sighed, slumping fully against him in relief. Slowly, the tension drained from his body, his breathing evening out as exhaustion and the lingering effects of the alcohol took over.

Tommy shifted, settling them down to lay on the couch, his arms still wrapped securely around Evan. He felt completely wrung out, pulled inside out, but for the first time in months, he felt no regret.

He looked down at Evan, now curled up against him, his face tranquil and smoothed in sleep. Tommy brushed a hand lightly over his back, grounding himself in the reality of holding him again.

Tomorrow, they would talk. Whether Evan remembered tonight or not, Tommy would lay everything out again. He’d fight for them—for the second chance he’d been too afraid to ask for before. Therapy, hard conversations, whatever it took.

Because now he knew. He’d finally realized what he should have understood all along: Evan deserved someone who would stay.

And Tommy was done running.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but his mind flashed to Evan squeezing his hands and promising they’d do it together. Hope flickered unwaveringly in his chest, easing the ache in his heart and, at long last Tommy felt like he could breathe again.

Evan stirred slightly, his fingers twitching against Tommy’s arm as he mumbled, “Stay.”

Tommy pressed a kiss to Evan’s hair as he whispered “I’m not going anywhere, love. Not this time.”

And he meant it.

[msschemmenti]

lips 💋

jennifer jareau x reader

a/n: i had two different ideas for this we’ll see which one makes it out of my notes app. a lil ficlet because im literally so obsessed with her rn

what was her deal today? there was a stack of case files spilling out of her inbox on the corner of her desk. her phone had about 20 voicemails from detectives all over the country. there was so much work to do and yet she’d spent the day staring across her desk at her co-worker. jj was truly at a loss today. after lunch with no case in sight— she’d pretty much deemed the day a loss in regards to productivity. and as frustrated as she’d be tomorrow, she really couldn’t bring herself to care too much today.

y/n had to be doing it on purpose. it was as if every time jj’s eyes were on her, she’d lick her lips, or she’d be biting the cap of her pen, or reapplying her chapstick. jj all but crawled across the desk separating them when y/n removed her glasses and started sucking on one of the legs in thought as she worked through a file. by 3pm she was beginning to lose her mind.

she’d gotten lost in y/n shiny lips again when a ball up piece of paper collided with her forehead. shocked at the interruption, jj looked around the bullpen for the culprit. everyone’s heads were buried in files but a familiar snickered came from the set of desks next to her own. emily’s shiny black hair bounced with laughter causing jj to roll her eyes. emily only grinned and lifted her empty coffee mug toward the kitchen.

jj followed her with her own mug and sidled up beside her in the tiny kitchenette. “am i that obvious?” jj asked quietly, eyes still trained on the younger agent, hard at work.

“unbelievably so. i knew you guys liked to flirt but i hadn’t realized you’d taken the banter to the next step.”

“next step? what do you mean?” jj asked in confusion.

“jayje, you’re looking at her like you tasted the most intimate parts of her. like you can’t wait for it to be 5pm so you can take her home and reacquaint yourself with all your favorite parts of her. like you wanna take her right-“ emily explained dramatically, sloshing the coffee in her mug around as she talked.

“okay! that’s a bit more detailed than i think is necessary. and unlike what you so openly suggested we’ve not taken any steps. i just don’t know what it is today. i’m damn near mesmerized. i’ve got to get a grip before she notices. which won’t take long considering you’re launching paper balls at my head.” jj grimaced.

“well it’s almost quitting time, i’m sure you can make something happen.” emily grinned.

jj shook her head swiftly and turned to head back to her desk, “in my dreams. i think ill just stick to admiring from a far for now.”

emily shook her head and followed jj out, extending a napkin to her before sliding into her desk chair. “if that’s the case, this is for the droll puddle you’ve been building all day. wouldn’t want to flood you inbox, hm?” jj ignored emily with a shake of her head and went back to trying to look like she was working and not shamelessly fantasizing about devouring y/n’s lips.

somehow, y/n and jj ended up being the last two leaving the bullpen this evening. well jj had been too distracted to realize anyone else had left and y/n had been working through one last file. so when she closed the file and met jj’s eyes she almost smirked at the dazed look on the blonde’s face. “aw how chivalrous, did you wait for me?”

there wasn’t anything chivalrous about it. jj mentally chastised herself for the thought and forced herself to nod. “we both know how dangerous it is to have a pretty woman like you walking around by yourself at night. figured i’d walk you to your car.”

y/n grinned then shooting jj a playful wink as she gathered her things, “well let’s get a move on then. i don’t wanna keep you here any longer than necessary. today felt exceptionally long.”

jj hummed in agreement and both women started for the elevator. as they waited, jj rocked on the balls of her feet anxiously. willing herself to be normal and not obvious. they stepped in the elevator and rode it all the way down in silence. jj was almost home free. until her determined coolness was shattered as y/n laughed sweetly as the elevator doors slid open.

“so you gonna kiss me or what?” y/n smirked, hands on her hips.

jj sputtered a bit at the direct question, “uh, what?”

“oh come on jen, you’ve only been saying it with your eyes all day. normally you can conceal it a bit better but today it was like it was written on your forehead.” y/n grinned stepping into jj’s space.

“normally? what do you mean?” jj almost pouted.

“oh sweets, you might be good at poker and all but i know desire when i see it.” y/n places her hand on jj’s cheek with an affectionate pat. “so what’ll be? am i going home without a kiss or what? i’ve only been waiting for two years.”

jj huffed indignantly but wasted no more time and pulled the woman into a bruising kiss. one that had them both panting for air when they finally fell apart. they rested their foreheads together as they caught their breath and y/n was the first one to break the charged silence. “you lasted longer than i thought you would. i just knew when i was sucking on my glasses you’d break.”

jj gasped and squeezed at y/n’s waist, “i knew you were doing it on purpose! i thought i was going crazy.”

y/n shrugged with a smile, “you left me no choice. flirting with you for two years didn’t seem to do the job. i had to take matters into my own hands.”

jj groaned but leaned in again, lips only ghosting over y/n’s. “i can’t believe this…”

“you weren’t complaining a second ago, why start now?”

“oh trust me, i’m not. merely surprised it all.”

[dalliancekay]

We'll be Okay

(I posted something similar on Twitter so I will here too just in case someone needs to hear it, have a little comfort)

The husbands that hold our hearts together are a story that has a happy ending. They belong together, they always have and always will. We will see it eventually too.

There isn't a single universe where they don't end up in each other's arms. And if you think of them as existing before and after the Universe has, they always find a way to each other within it and outside it too. Whatever the fate throws at them. So their story is in a way finished, they are one. And we are going to see how. One version of it. The one Terry wanted for them. The others are outlined in the many many artworks this talented fandom is sharing now for 3 and half decades. And I have a feeling will do even a long time from now.

And remember, don't ever feel bad for loving something good, something beautiful. The fault here is not with you, it never is, it is entirely with someone else. Remember this if you ever fall for a wrong person, give your friendship to someone who hurts, uses you. Your love and your kindness is not diminished by someone who harms others and you are certainly not to blame for your trust. Loving things, being kind and enthusiastic and open are good qualities. We need more of this. Don't let the shadows of the world lessen your light. This is not what you deserve. This is on them.

GO3 will be made. Share your fav art. Love. Widely. (in both senses of the world)

I write (if it can be called that) tiny lil' ficlets where the husbands are happy, or talking about the things that worry them because I feel that's what they need (but is most likely what I need). Please do feel free to share and reblog with your comforts!

[lsunstreakerl]

lil snippit from "honey, your father". at this point it's more of a proof of concept than anything lol. I promise I'm writing it.

the good news is I'm on break now! so you can all expect to see a decrease on the ficlet side of things and an increase in AO3 updates :) it's just spring break though so it's only a week, don't get too excited

Seb POV, 800 words!

Daniel's new teammate is tiny. The kid's a "prodigy", and the media keeps trying to paint him in a mythical light, a new golden boy to fill the void Sebastian has left behind.

As if.

Honestly, the next golden boy better be Danny, for all the work Seb's put into him. This younger generation doesn't get it, but Danny- Seb's pretty proud of what he and Red Bull have managed. Sure, he's got his own set of problems, but they all do, it's part of being in Red Bull.

It'll be interesting to see how Daniel handles having a rookie. Personally, Seb thinks he's a little bit young for it still, but whatever.

He's got his own set of problems, Finn shaped with a permanent frown and a jawline to die for. It's a tad bit distracting, honestly. Sure, he's in Ferrari- prancing horse and Rosso Corsa, all that fun stuff- but if he doesn't sleep with Kimi at least once he'll be letting down the Redbull legacy.

Danny and Max will need to grow into it. The kid's too young- not even a legal adult in some countries. He's a bit of an oddball, now that Seb thinks about it.

He's practically permanently attached to Daniel. Or Rosberg, actually. Seb almost wants to be offended, because if the little limpet wanted a German buddy, Seb is literally right here. Nico's not Red Bull, or even properly German either, which is a double offense.

Maybe Seb needs to step in here. Nico's been on a complete bender with Lewis, and their mess is screwing with the rest of the paddock. Nico doesn't have time to be dealing with an aggressive little tag-along.

Maybe Seb can come off as an older brother figure. Max seems desperate for some kind of family, anything at all to cling to- it's gotten him attached to Nico, so it clearly can't be that hard.

Maybe Seb can encourage him to temper that flame a bit. Settle into his role, his job. He's there to collect any leftover points and scraps Daniel leaves him, and he clearly needs to be reminded of that.

Sebastian nods to himself. This is a good plan. It gives Nico some breathing room to figure out how to next best fuck with Lewis, which is an advantage for everyone, it gives Seb something to toy around with for a bit, and it might even make Danny's life easier.

Never let it be said that Seb isn't a good senior- he's clearly still looking out for his little Australian rookie. A residual fondness for the accent, the dark hair.

That's about where the similarities between Mark and Daniel end. Mark had been something else entirely, blown into Sebastian's life with a brutal ferocity, never gave an inch even when Seb gave his most angelic smile.

He'd fucked Sebastian through the mattress on more than one occasion. Seb remembers it fondly- Mark probably only remembers it in therapy.

Daniel, though. He'd been so eager to please, wild hair and braces hanging onto Seb's every word. It was out of character, but-

Seb hadn't had the heart to break him in like the others. He was even a little bit sweet about it, showing Danny how the paddock worked, who to go to after a rough race, how to look up from under dark lashes to get whatever he wanted.

Jenson helped too, because Daniel pulls off the young and eager bottom look now, but Seb can already tell his rookie is going to be a leader. He knows what he wants, knows how to get it, leans more naturally towards commanding than submitting.

He still has to serve his time, just like the rest of them. It's tradition.

Max, on the other hand-

He's boyish, reminds Seb of a gangly little colt, long limbs with no idea where to put them. He's aggressive and snappish, and it's going to take more than just Daniel to break him in.

Sebastian had almost assumed his older Toro Rosso teammate would do it, based off the rumors of the explosive fighting between the boys fathers. It would be a natural course of action, getting a hierarchy established, but instead it almost seems like Max has wormed his way into Carlos' heart. His Spanish teammate is too soft on him, too fond. Danny seems like he might be falling for it too, which is concerning.

Seb taught him better than that. So did Jenson, and so did Daniel himself, with the way he came into his seat. He knows better.

It's okay, Seb doesn't mind doing Danny one last little favor. He'll get the rookie- Max- all figured out, soften him up and do the hard work for him, make it easier on Daniel when he comes in and crushes his career.

It's a solid plan.

[rotting-inkblot]

Entertainment ~ {Autistic Bunny!Reader x Barry ficlet}

Warnings: Suggestive

It’s definitely a habit of yours, trailing after people when you’re bored or needing attention or simply wanting to be near someone. You also happen to step very lightly, or at least you’ve been told whenever you accidentally startle someone by seemingly appearing next to them without a sound. Right now you’re trailing behind Barry, just needing to be around him for some reason, even if you’re not doing anything. Tiptoeing behind him as he steps out the trailer, his boots making loud creaking and thumping sounds on the wood in stark contrast to your silent movements, following him when he walks up to his bike, you assume to do some maintenance on it or something. With a small distance between you and him, you simply stand and watch him crouch down and check something, eyes wide like a doe as you bounce on your heels, almost becoming entranced by his confident movements, your features relaxing into what you’ve been told is a resting sad face.

At some point he glances over to you as he stands up and physically jumps, his surprise startling you a little even, “Jesus Christ, bunny…” the fact that he says it with a smile soothes you, like a tiny reassurance, “how long have you been there, lil’ rabbit?”

“‘Whole time. Wanted to be near you ‘n’ followed you out.” You fiddle with your own fingers and bounce on the spot, still staring up at him, even as his gaze flicks down for a moment.

“Need t’ put a bell on you, I swear… You okay, bun?” He wipes his hands on his coveralls and reaches them out in a silent question to hold you, one you quickly answer by stepping closer into his arms, humming when they wrap around you.

“’m okay, just watchin’.” You tilt your head up and smile as he tips his head down presses a kiss to your forehead, “Like the bell idea. Might get annoying playing with it though, so be warned.”

“Mhm, think it’s pretty hard to get annoyed with you, lil’ rabbit…” peppering over your face with kisses, he smiles against your skin, a small smirk that you’ve learned only means one thing.

Your suspicions being immediately confirmed when coarse fingers dance up your spine and over the back of your neck, making you shiver and let slip a quiet whimper. When you feel his smirk turn into a mischievous grin, even as you whine and playfully hit his chest, you grumble out a quiet “Mean… know ‘m sensitive.”

“Mmmhm.” He slowly pulls back and places a final kiss between your furrowed brows that makes it hard to keep up your performed anger, “You wanna be my en’ertainment, bunny?” Excitement building, you simply smile and happily nod, continuing to bounce in place, holding back a laugh when Barry’s gaze drops again shamelessly, “Keep doin’ that, lil’ rabbit. Gimme somethin’ nice t’ look at while I work, yeah?” Again, you just nod, the idea of answering verbally completely slipping your mind, “Good bunny. I won’t be too long, promise.”

Fiddling with your own hands and continuing to bounce, occasionally shifting your weight from one foot to the other to prevent your legs from hurting, you simply watch him go back to his bike, occasionally glancing up at you and shamelessly raking his gaze over your body with that sleazy smile that makes your heart flutter, each time returning it with your own bright, prideful grin.

[typicalopposite]

My good darling. I love your fics and I cannot wait for more kinley beans. 1. The name is freaking cute. 2. Pregnant Tommy my beloved

my good anon! first off how dare you viciously attack my feelings like this!! Thank you so much <3<3

here take a lil ficlet from the totally uncertain to ever come to be continuation of this story and a token of my eternal gratitude!!!! <3 :)

“It’s feels fucking weird…” was Tommy’s immediate and honest response when Evan asked what it was like the first time he felt the babies move. Which… it did feel fucking weird. Forget the sweet butterfly flutters he was told about— this was some alien ready to burst free level flutters. Six sets of tiny feet and fists finally picking up on the fact they can flail around was bound to feel weird though…

And he absolutely adores it.

He will gladly take the weird— and soon to be (he's sure) discomfort— over phantom kicks turned to the heart wrenching forced reality when he would press his hand to a flat toned stomach and feel nothing… Alien flutters are the weirdest but best feeling he could imagine and he will cherish each and every one. 

*

It’s not long before the alien flutters become full blown alien kicks and Evan’s smile is brighter than the sun the first time he feels them. His hands move over Tommy’s bump to where they were told each baby is positioned and he pokes and jostles until he feels movement. Their nightly routine quickly goes from just kisses for each bean, to Evan not letting up until he was rewarded a kick from each one as well.

Evan, of course, isn’t the only one obsessed with feeling the babies’ move— and here Tommy thought he would limit who could have access to belly touches… Instead he welcomes each one; just another reminder of how real the babies are. His little Kinley Beans. 

He is leaning back on Bobby and Athena’s couch, his laughter over something ridiculous Evan called out from the kitchen tightening his stomach and the beans are actively responding to their cocoon so rudely gyrating them around by lashing out against May’s palms. Her eyes light up and she looks like she just won the jackpot— which, since she has been trying to get them to move for a while now… perhaps she has. 

“Alright, alright, out of the way!” Athena ushers May off the couch, giving her a daring look when she scoffs, and takes her place beside Tommy. “It’s Gramma’s turn,” she says, as justification, then checks with Tommy that he’s still comfortable with all the touching (he is) before placing her hands on the bump and whispering down to them.

They clearly are all already working to get on Sergeant Grantma’s— another Howie appointed name, obviously— good side, because Tommy is pretty sure they all start moving at once. “O- Oh…” he gasps, then laughs when Athena lets out the most dramatically triumphant cheer. She chuckles and goes back to gleefully talking to his belly— to the beans— and he feels choked up at the constant reminders of just how loved they already are. 

May gives Athena her moment, but then eventually weasels her way back onto the couch, and at some point even Harry has a hand out reluctant of how weird it might be— typical teenager— but curious enough to follow through. He gasps in wonder when he is quickly met with a sharp kick. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Evan finally calls from the kitchen and when Tommy turns towards the voice that’s when he notices— Bobby, over in the corner of the room, arms crossed with that classic Bobby smile… just observing. His eyes have this softness to them. It’s like he’s seeing the moment but also lost in another one at the same time. He blinks back to the present just after Evan’s words, while Athena and the kids are up and moving towards the table. 

Tommy adjusts his shirt and then next thing he knows Bobby’s hand is held out in front of him and he is helping Tommy to his feet. He feels a little awkward standing with Bobby now, he feels almost like he needs to ask if Bobby wants to feel them move, given how long he seems to have been watching them. Instead neither speak and just follow everyone else into the kitchen for an amazing meal. 

Afterwards, however… Once Evan has disappeared outside with Harry and a football, Athena and May have gone to clean up the kitchen– after threatening Tommy with the sternest scolding of his life if he dared try to do anything but go rest– Tommy finds Bobby standing at their picture table. It’s filled to the brim with many– and yet likely not even a small fraction– of special moments from their lives: some recent, some throughout their marriage, and some from before…

Bobby picks up a picture of Marcy and the kids, and his eyes get that look in them again…

“After my son was born…” he begins, and for a moment Tommy feels the urge to look around and see if he is talking to someone else, because why would he– then he stops himself, because they have been through this… he is Bobby’s family, too. So he just listens. “–we already knew we wanted a second child. Marcy–” he laughs; a wet sharp laugh. “–she wanted to start trying the moment we got home from the hospital… I talked her into waiting at least a year.” 

Tommy looks at the picture– at Bobby’s kids… at the age difference… Oh… he thinks, a gut feeling about this story’s direction already bubbling to the surface. Bobby exhales… heavily. “We lost… enough that she was ready to give up…” His eyes mist over, that warm smile returns. “Then along came Brook and– and what was maybe the most miserable pregnancy in all of existence.” Bobby laughs again, and it catches Tommy off guard, but then he laughs too. “She was miserable… but every time that little trouble maker would start her gymnastics, it would bring the biggest smile to Marcy’s face. Pure relief. Every kick reaffirmed life– let her know ‘Hey, I’m here… we’re both gonna make it through this’” 

And now… dammit… Tommy’s eyes are misty too!

As if on cue– as if to agree with Bobby… to let Tommy know they are there, and okay… they are all– Tommy included– okay… the beans begin to move. Tommy let’s out a soft gasp, bringing his hands up to the multiple spots he can feel movement. “Hey… do– do you want to–” his voice trails off when the look Bobby gives him says he just might need this. 

“Oh, I– I don’t want to make you feel awkward…” Bobby says.

“It won’t,” Tommy replies, firmly. He grabs Bobby’s hand and brings it to the most active spot– where the twins are apparently having some knockdown drag out fight because you can actually see the kicks through the shirt he is wearing. 

Bobby rests his hand over the spot, immediately they begin to kick against it. “Hmm…” he hums happily. “Strong little rascals already… like both of their dads–” He looks at Tommy and his smile widens– the sadness fades from his eyes, and is replaced with pride, and excitement… and love. “Thank you…” 

“Thank you, Bobby… You’re part of the reason they’re even here,” Tommy says, and his throat is tight and he is openly crying now… dammit– but Bobby is too. 

“What is going on in here,” Athena asks, walking in with Evan on her heels, a look of concern pulling his brows tightly together. 

Tommy clears his throat and gestures between Bobby and his belly, “Just a bonding moment with Grampa and the Beans,” he laughs, and the babies all move at once. “Baby I think you have officially lost your place as their favorite,” Tommy continues, bringing a hand up to the underside of the bump where baby A is going to town. 

Evan gasps, dramatically, the concern melting away– although Tommy is sure the moment will be brought back up later– and crosses the room to them. “You little traitors,” he scoffs, swatting Bobby’s hand away so he can grasp the bump from both sides… yet all six are completely still now. He jostles it, and pouts when he still gets nothing in return. 

“Ah… don’t be jealous, kid…” Bobby teases, squeezing Evan’s shoulder. “Grandparents are just naturally better.” Evan’s pout turns to shocked betrayal as they all begin to kick and move as if agreeing.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: April 5

2019

dust off your highest hopes [david/patrick, G, 1,183] by sonseulsoleil

Three weeks ago, Patrick broke up with his fiance. Two weeks ago, Patrick left his hometown without looking back. Today, Patrick has a meeting with one David Rose.

Give Me Everything I Need [david/patrick, G, 2,449] by my_middle_name_is_awkward

“I just never thought someone would ever love me enough to want to spend their life with me,” “And I never thought I would love someone the way I knew I was supposed to,” After a long day, Patrick and David reflect on their engagement.

Ladies Night Inn [alexis/twyla, T, 15,848] by yeah_alright

She’d always known Alexis is beautiful. But tonight’s the first time she’s really seen her. And she’s not just beautiful. She’s vulnerable and strong and carefree and thoughtful, and because she’s so open, you can see all of that in her aqua eyes. It’s breathtaking. She’s breathtaking. --- What if Twyla had accepted Alexis' invitation to a ladies night in her motel room after she and Mutt broke up?

you got me good [david/patrick, T, 722] by @startswithhope

Here’s 700 or so words of…kissing. Set at the end of “Dead Guy in Room 4″ just after David and Patrick’s second kiss.

2020

and walk with you through that lucent wavering forest of bluegreen leaves [david/patrick, M, 3,176] by @wi22iou

Patrick asks David to be his date for a friends wedding + only one bed in the hotel room. This'll end well right? Slight AU where Patrick came out to Rachel, friends and parents before skipping town. Also, David is /slightly more easy-going, but not by much. Un-beta'd - all mistakes are mine. EDIT: as of chapter 4, it’s beta’d!

Another Schitt's Creek Prompt Fic Collection [multiple, E, 3,605] by thingswithwings

Nine lil ficlets I wrote previously, all collected here. Stories are: David/Patrick David + Stevie Patrick + Stevie David + Alexis Alexis/Twyla Moira +/ Jocelyn

be my everything and beyond [david/patrick, G, 3,626] by thegrayness

The Hike, but David has tentacles.

I Want You Here [david/patrick, M, 3,454] by agreatwave

Patrick blinks when he sees the name on his screen. David. David is calling him in the middle of the night. Patrick answers quickly, pulse picking up as he sits up in bed. “David?” “PATRICK!” Patrick immediately jerks his head back from the phone, fumbling for the volume button. Ok, so David’s fine. He’s just very drunk. Missing Scenes from 5x04 The Dress

stay stay stay [david/patrick, G, 1,853] by my_middle_name_is_awkward

“What’s so funny, David? She missed an important delivery and she broke our sink!” David nodded rapidly, an amused smile toying at his lips. Patrick frowned at him and apparently, that was David’s breaking point. He started giggling as he made his way over to Patrick. “I’m sorry, honey,” David said in between laughs, rubbing his hands up and down Patrick’s biceps. “You just look so cute when you’re mad,”

Tiny Pink Small Person [david/patrick, NR, 2,360] by WritingInQuarantine

An alternative history for Patrick Brewer and David Rose. I don't think it's a spoiler to tell you that they're always endgame, regardless how they meet... Patrick has a child from his relationship with Rachel. A child who may view the world in a way that challenges David's carefully curated lifestyle and aesthetic. Stand alone one-shot at the moment but the world is quite keen to write itself so I'm leaving it open for further chapters.

2021

A Sight for Sore Eyes [david/patrick, T, 724] by @reginahalliwell

For the first time since Patrick has known him, David shows up to work in a skirt.

All the Ways He Loves Me [david/patrick, E, 10,284] by @delilah-mcmuffin

Patrick has never been one to make a big deal over milestone birthdays, but even he has to admit that the idea of being spoiled by his husband all day just for turning forty is nothing short of wonderful.

everybody knows the secret [david & johnny, G, 5,082] by @fishyspots

After all, how would all of that look? First Johnny put his trust in the wrong person, setting his family up to lose everything because he couldn’t pick a business partner. And then they land in a town that most maps won’t print the name of and he lets the same thing happen to his son? Johnny shakes his head and then shakes Patrick’s hand. A strong grip, practiced. Well-versed in the kind of business minutiae that David had never shown even a passing interest in until after Johnny had paid to ensure he never needed to. “It’s nice to meet you,” Patrick says. Nice try, buddy, Johnny thinks. Or, five times Johnny wasn't sure about Patrick and one time he was.

I know my dreams lie with you [david/patrick, T, 2,986] by @blackandwhiteandrose

David loves nights like this, sitting on opposite ends of Patrick’s couch, stretched out and legs tangled together, pizza long since consumed, trading stories and secrets. There's still a part of him that's surprised by the fact that no matter what he shares, Patrick continues to want to know more.

IKEA [david/patrick, M, 16,824] by resilient_rose

David wants fancy furniture. Patrick says they can't afford it. The solution? IKEA. Flirting and fighting ensue.

It's Funny How You Don't Know You Can Fly 'til You Finally Catch The Wind [david/patrick, NR, 2,371] by sunonyourskin

It had started as a joke, a way for him to rile up his boyfriend. Alexis being there had only added to his plan, her natural ability to wind up her brother playing out perfectly. But that was all it was supposed to be, a joke. Until suddenly, it wasn’t. ---------- An introspective piece looking into Patrick's thoughts during the Rock On! hug. The third part of "The Moments In Between" series.

Italy [ronnie & ray, T, 300] by Rosey_Peach

oh, we've got trouble now [david/patrick, E, 2,553] by @ratchet

The problem with roommates, David has decided, is the illusion of privacy.

this is where i love you [david/patrick, E, 6,706] by @schittyfic

It shouldn't be surprising, really, that Patrick snaps this evening. Or: a few years into their marriage, Patrick tries and fails to carry a burden on his own. Marriage is hard, sometimes, and that's okay.

2022

everything you touch (just feels like yours to me) [alexis/twyla, E, 3,481] by @sarahlevys

It isn't a big deal. Of course it isn't. But Alexis can't stop from fiddling with her hair, staring at herself in the mirror, studying herself from all angles and fixating on Twyla's cooling interest. And it shouldn't matter, since Twyla, like, loves her. Twyla moved to New York for her. Twyla holds Alexis' hair back when she's sick, and cooks breakfast for her in the mornings, and squeezes Alexis' hands when she gets a sudden, unavoidable flash of that thing in St. Petersburg that she really doesn't like talking about, and— What if Twyla's tired of her? What if she regrets uprooting her entire life for someone who still manages to fuck up coffee every time she tries to return the favour? What if she's sick of dealing with Alexis—or what if she's fallen out of love with Alexis entirely? As her relationship with Twyla settles into something more serious, Alexis has some insecurities about their sex life.

Have you tried turning it off and back on again? [david/patrick, T, 11,570] by @a-noble-dragon

"I take it this is the Com-puter Office?" Patrick smiles at David, helplessly amused at his overly expressive face, and the obvious distaste in his voice when he said the word computer. "This is the IT Department, yes. And we do have computers here, so you've definitely come to the right place." David raises a fascinating eyebrow at that, before looking him up and down in a long slow once over that makes Patrick's toes curl inside his hiking boots. “Okay. Well, thanks for that. Can't wait to start working here, it's going to be so much fun," David drones, with more sarcasm than Patrick has ever heard used in his life. Patrick bites his lip hard to contain his laughter. David's snarky, and gorgeous, and— Wait a minute… Did he just say, work here?

I'm Gonna Be With You Right Here 'Til the Very End [david/patrick, T, 916] by @weathereyehorizon

A fluffy, texting-only fic where Patrick makes everything okay.

The Angry Red Rooster [david/patrick, E, 5,159] by obsessedwithdavrick

David looked around the bar and wondered how he had fallen so far. How had Stevie convinced him that, not only was it his turn to be the designated driver, but brought him to this cowboy bar? There was so much double denim he was struggling to comprehend any other fashion choices. Cowboy boots worn with anything other than irony? It was all so incorrect. OR// David meets Cowboy!Patrick at a Cowboy bar, and might have to rethink his stance on Cowboy Fashion. Just a little bit of smut to wet-your-whistle, as we await the arrival of Billy Tillerson.

Tomorrow's a Whole 'Nother Town [david/patrick, T, 2,046] by @mostlyinthemorning

What if David and Patrick ran away at the same time and it was Patrick, not the Amish, who rescued David when Roland’s truck broke down?

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, 2023, or 2024 2019: 4 fics/20,202 words 2020: 6 fics/18,074 words 2021: 9 fics/47,830 words 2022: 5 fics/23,172 words Total: 24 fics/109,278 words