#rarepair flash fics

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I Am Being Held Hostage. Send Help.

w/o text:

[xdevilrushx]

Yuffie: It's just practice, okay?

Cloud: Yuffie, this is the fifteenth time you've "practiced" on me.

Yuffie: (rolling her eyes) OMG, obsessed much?

Cloud: How much kissing practice do you need?

Yuffie: Just a bit, okay? Don't make it weird, you big dork.

Cloud: With tongue?

Yuffie: (flushed) …

Artist: n_kamui

[mysecretwindowuniverse]

Jeromewald Text Meme 6/?

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

Characters: Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Kiyan (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Rare Pairings, Pining, Winter, Based on Scavenger Hunt: Cat School Gear quest, Reunions, Sensuality, Gay Sex, Intimacy, Not Beta Read

Series: Part 5 of Unbury The Gays

Summary: In the biting cold of winter, Prince Adrien's heart aches for Kiyan, a witcher who embodies both danger and desire. As snow seals the roads and hope fades, a familiar silhouette appears on the horizon. Will Adrien’s love be enough to guide Kiyan home, or will the ghosts of their pasts threaten to tear them apart once more?

[arrow-v-flash-polls]

The two are great detectives along with being supportive fathers to hero children who don't always understand what's going on but are there to make sure good prevails. The two only met the once in cannon but do you like to see the two together romanically, prefer them more platonically or rather not see the two together at all?

[advena87]

Chapters: 5/5

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)

Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Modren Au, Artist/Muse, Painting, Rare Pairings, Fade to Black, Lack of Communication, Miscommunication, mention of suicidal thoughts, Not Beta Read

The doorbell rang to find Kiyan in the kitchen, half an hour after the reminder on his phone had alerted him that the meeting was about to start. Honestly, Kiyan thought his client wasn't going to show up, it wouldn't be the first time someone made an appointment and didn't turn up. It was extremely annoying, but there was little he could do about it. At the same time, since Kiyan had gotten used to the idea of a free evening, being half an hour late seemed even more annoying.

"You're late," he announced coldly as he opened the door for the man waiting on the threshold. Kiyan had no patience for people who wasted his time and made no attempt to hide his disapproval.

"Good evening," the man replied with a slight, almost apologetic smile at the corner of his mouth. It could be a sign of remorse, but Kiyan saw amusement in his guest's dark eyes. No, it wasn't remorse. A rather indulgent smirk from someone who thinks others should wait for him. "Sorry to be late, terrible traffic jams on the roads, I was caught in the rush hour".

Kiyan's eyebrow twitched dangerously at the man's casual explanation. He wanted to slam the door in his face, but he held back his violent impulses. Firstly, he was an adult and could control himself. Second, he was a professional and cared about his reputation. And thirdly, he needed the money and the guy looked rich.

He was a tall man, about half a head taller than Kiyan, and he had an impeccable figure that was accentuated by his very well-chosen clothes. He wore an expensive suit under his unbuttoned black coat, but no tie. The collar was casually open, and on his wrist was a gold watch, probably worth more than Kiyan's flat. Yes, the client was definitely solvent.

Regarding his appearance, Kiyan looked boldly into his guest's eyes and studied with satisfaction the symmetrical face, with pronounced cheekbones and a defined jaw, surrounded by a neatly trimmed black beard. The eyes were the perfect distance apart, large and dark, with long black lashes. The only imperfection in this handsome face seemed to be the nose, a little too long overall, with a slight bump, but somehow it suited him, giving the man's face more character and expression. The visitor's long black curly hair, neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, was also a lovely sight, and his smooth skin was a pleasant shade of golden brown. There was no doubt that the client was a very attractive man, so this job promised to be pleasant despite the delay.

"Does my being late mean that I won't be invited in?" the man finally asked, and Kiyan realized that he had been staring at the client, who was still standing at the door.

"Please come in," he replied, still somewhat distracted, and opened the door wider so that his visitor could finally enter. "To be honest, I didn't think you were going to show up."

"There is no way I would pass up such an opportunity." The man smiled brightly, but there was something predatory about it.

READ ON AO3

[reduxulousoctopus]

"Resemblance"

Flash/Orion established relationship, post-JLU, slice-of-life/domestic, daddy issues, short story

(sorry in advance to fans of the New Gods for things I definitely got wrong, this is based almost exclusively on Orion's like 4? 5? appearances in the entire DCAU and even then mostly just the two times he was in the Justice League cartoon)

--

"You should let me cut your hair."

Orion doesn't respond at first, too focused on the latest drama unfolding between the residents of Wisteria Lane. It's only when the broadcast switches to a commercial break a few seconds later that he finally turns his attention to the other end of the sofa, where Wally is slouched with one bare, lean, well-sculpted leg slung casually over the arm of the couch. He's poking at the touch-screen of his phone, playing some sort of game that involves rearranging several brightly-colored sweets into rows and columns before smashing them apart.

"Did you say something?" Orion asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Wally remembers with a smile. "I wanna cut your hair."

"Why?"

Wally shrugs one shoulder. "I think you'd look good with a buzz-cut. And lets face it, not everyone can pull off bangs."

He runs a hand through his own boyish fringe, which flops back down and sticks to his slightly damp forehead. This hemisphere of the Earth is currently going through its warm season and the air conditioner in Wally's apartment is only nominally functional. Even though Wally dressed light in just a pair of shorts and a tank top, he's covered in a faint layer of sweat. Besides its intended function, Orion has noticed a strangely erotic appeal to the way sweat glistens in the light and draws the eye to every contour, lending an almost tactile awareness of his human lover's body even when they aren't touching. Even the scent evokes memories of the many times he made Wally sweat.

After yanking his attention back from the turn his thoughts have taken long enough to remember what Wally said, Orion frowns (and expression his facial features are both familiar with and especially well-suited to convey) and tries to determine whether or not he should be offended. On the one hand, why should it matter whether or not he can 'pull off bangs'? He's a warrior feared by the vilest scum of Apokolips, not some well-coiffed pretty-boy like the actors on his favorite Earth broadcasts.

On the other hand... Orion has never felt so attractive in his entire life as he has since they started this odd, unlikely relationship. Wally is practically rhapsodic during their encounters, openly marveling at the thickness of his arms, the span of his shoulders, the ampleness of his buttocks, and the girth and form of his godhood. Even the rugged severity of his features seem to hold a beauty of their own in Wally's eyes.

If something so simple as changing his hairstyle would make him even more appealing to his human lover... perhaps it is worth considering.

--

The loud buzzing cacophony finally ceases as Wally turns off the electric hair-trimmer and steps back to admire his handiwork.

"How do I look?" Orion asks. He reaches up to touch the back of his head. His hair feels soft yet bristly, and shorter than it's been since he reached adulthood.

"Very hot," Wally assures him with a lascivious smirk. He runs a hand back and forth over Orion's freshly shorn head, brushing away any loose hairs, before unwinding the towel from his shoulders. "Come on, handsome, check it out for yourself."

Feeling his face grow warm at the still-unexpected compliments, Orion allows Wally to usher him into the bathroom. When the light flicks on, however, it isn't the reflection of his own supposed beauty that catches Orion's breath. He barely even takes notice of his new hairstyle or neatly trimmed brows, except for their culpability in what he does notice. His features reflexively furrow into a scowl, carving deep crags across his now fully-exposed forehead.

Orion glares into the mirror and sees the son of Darkseid glaring back.

"You don't like it," Wally guesses. He smiles to cover his clear disappointment. "Well, it's just hair, right? It'll grow back."

"It's not that. It... looks very nice," Orion forces himself to say.

"Then what's with the angry eyes?" Wally asks. He pouts while holding both his index fingers up to his own forehead, angled down in an imitation of a scowling brow.

Orion doesn't answer right away, unable to put what he's feeling into words. Besides, if he waits long enough, Wally will probably get bored and divert his attention elsewhere for a while.

Wally does get bored; his attention does not divert.

"Hellooo, Earth to Sega Genesis." He prods Orion's cheek with his finger. "Why the grumpy face?"

"Stop that," Orion growls after Wally pokes him again. Before yet a third attempt can be made, Orion smacks his hand away.

Wally sighs and leans his head on Orion's arm. "Sorry. I thought you'd like it."

"The obnoxious prodding?"

"The haircut. I didn't mean to push you into doing something you don't wanna do."

"No force in the universe could make me do something I don't want to do," Orion boasts. "I agreed willingly."

"So what's the deal?" Wally asks, lifting his head. "You know I'm not psychic, right? I'm not even smart."

Orion glowers down at him. "I would kill anyone else who said that about you. Don't assume that exemption will last forever."

"Okay, fine, I'm smart," Wally says, even as a mischievous smile tugs at his mouth. "Sometimes. When I try."

Orion grumbles.

"But what I'm not good at is figuring out what people are thinking if they won't just tell me." Wally gives a little half-shrug. "Sooo, what are we gonna do, here?"

With a heavy sigh, Orion braces his hands against the laminate countertop and gazes for a long moment at the hateful visage in the mirror before him. Finally he asks, "Quite the resemblance, isn't it?"

Wally's gaze snaps up guiltily from Orion's bent backside. "Hu-what? To who?"

"My father."

Orion watches in the mirror as Wally stares uncomprehendingly at him for a moment longer, before his mouth forms a small 'o' of silent realization. He nods, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans one hip against the counter.

"Fathers, huh?" he says with a bitter attempt at a laugh. "I know how that is. I mean, I can't claim that my bio-dad was the universe-conquering embodiment of all evil, obviously, but it's not a competition."

Wally has mentioned his birth father only once before, to briefly explain how he came to be adopted by his aunt and uncle. Apparently, the man abandoned his wife and son when Wally was only ten years old; however, Orion got the impression that there was more to it—that Mr. West had not treated his family well even during the brief period when he was present.

Perhaps it shouldn't be so surprising, that someone happy and kind had an unhappy, unkind childhood. After all, Orion was raised in the paradise of Celestial City by Highfather himself, yet turned out angry and cruel. Still, it's hard to imagine anyone choosing to hurt Wally when he was a child—at least, it's difficult for Orion to imagine without straining even Mother Box's ability to control his rage.

"It used to mess me up, how much I look like him," Wally continues. "There were days I couldn't look in the mirror without seeing his face. Here, I'll show you—let me see if I can find—"

Wally darts out of the room in a blur of superspeed. Orion hears one of the closet doors in the bedroom swish open, the rustling of clothes, a grunt of exertion, then a loud THUMP followed very quickly by a muttered expletive.

A second later, Wally appears in the bathroom triumphantly brandishing a photograph, which he shows to Orion. In the center of the image are a pair of human children playing with tiny facsimiles of terrestrial vehicles. The older boy is immediately recognizable by his unruly mop of red hair and bright blue eyes. Young Wally smiles as he demonstrates how to send the colorful little toy cars down a track made of bright orange plastic while a toddler with brown skin and short, tightly-curled black hair watches in amazement.

"That's my bio-dad, back there," Wally says, pointing to a light-skinned man with a mustache standing in the background of the photograph. He's holding a canned beverage in one hand and appears to be talking to someone standing just out of frame.

Orion frowns a little in confusion. The photograph's lack of resolution leaves some details to the imagination, but he can't really see much of a resemblance. The man is lean but not especially athletic or muscular. His hair is a dull, mousy shade of brown and his eyes are dark. His brows are sparse and unkempt, the bone beneath prominent and protruding. The nose is all wrong. The general shape of his face is somewhat similar to Wally's but his chin is too broad and his cheeks are too sunken and gaunt.

If he hadn't been told that this man was Wally's biological father, Orion would not have thought they were even related.

"I don't understand," Orion admits. "You look nothing like your father."

The smirk on Wally's face is unbearably smug. "Darkseid was a nine-foot tall monster with glowing red eyes and craggy gray skin. You're a normal-looking guy with a wrinkly forehead because you keep scowling all the time."

Orion scowls even harder as he looks back at his own reflection. His expression sours still further the longer he stares until, with great reluctance, he grumbles, "You... may... have a point."

Wally laughs. "Well, like Grammy Flash always says, even a broken clock is right twice a day."

After parsing the metaphor and realizing that Wally just called himself stupid again, Orion turns and, with the tiniest fraction of his full strength, effortlessly pins the speedster against the bathroom wall with one hand. He feels Wally's heart-rate suddenly accelerate under his palm until he can no longer discern the individual beats and it feels more like a constant vibration.

He lets just a hint of his actual voice through the illusion created by Mother Box as he leans in close and purrs, "I warned you."

--

"You know," Wally says several minutes later, rousing Orion from a light dose, "if you really want me to stop doing something, I'm not sure sex is the most effective deterrent."

Both of them are lying naked on the living room's faux- hardwood floor, skin damp with Wally's sweat (and other fluids). They'll need to clean themselves soon—and unfortunately, they'll have to do so separately, as previous attempts have proven that the apartment's tiny, lukewarm shower is too small for men their size to comfortably occupy at the same time.

If Wally only asks, Orion would have a luxurious human-style shower constructed in his quarters at Highfather's citadel, large enough for them both. They would share a bed larger than the two of them would ever need, a never-ending pantry and larder full of all of Wally's favorite Earth foods, and an enormous flatscreen television with all the channels—including the premium cable package. Wally would never go hungry, never have to worry about paying rent, never need to work for any reason except personal gratification and fulfillment, for the rest of his all-too-short mortal lifespan.

If only Wally asks.

Orion smirks as he peers at Wally through one cracked-open eye. "Are you complaining? I granted you mercy, but if you'd prefer..."

He turns onto his side and lays a hand on Wally's throat, not quite squeezing, but firm enough to tease at the possibility that he might do so. Orion feels his mortal lover's pulse quicken with excitement again.

"No, no," Wally hastens to reply in a slightly strained voice. "Just pointing out that it's a bit, uh, counterproductive is all. Maybe try positive reinforcement instead."

"Sex as a reward for good behavior," Orion surmises, while idly stroking his thumb in the dip between Wally's clavicle bones.

"Exactly. Now there's some cognitive therapy I can get behind—or in front of and underneath."

Orion huffs a rusty laugh. "Have you considered that I'm actually rewarding myself for good behavior?"

"Oh. In that case, I'm glad I could help."

"You help me," Orion says, sliding his hand back up the length of Wally's neck to cup his jaw. "More than you know."

In the conversational lull, Orion belatedly realizes that they left the television on. The screen is turned away from them, but he listens in for a moment and recognizes an episode of Scrubs he's already seen before—not exactly the ideal soundtrack for an afternoon tryst. He hooks his foot around the powercord and pulls it free from the outlet, allowing a pleasant quiet to settle over the apartment. Though the white noise of Central City's hustle and bustle continues outside, the apartment itself feels all the more peaceful by contrast. In moments like these, Orion can almost understand why Wally likes living in this squalor.

Even so, whether it's a side-effect of his mortality or the accelerated perception granted him by his superspeed, Wally can't allow the moment to last without filling the void with talk. "Seriously though, daddy issues aside, do you really like your new haircut?"

"I haven't given it much consideration, yet," Orion admits. "Does my opinion really matter?"

"Yeah? It's your hair, man."

"I'm not the one who has to look at it."

"Well, I think it looks good."

"So it does."

"Fine," Wally replies, annoyed and fond all in one; his due, given how often he inspires those same feelings in others.

"It will take some getting used to," Orion relents after a moment. "But it's good to see myself with fresh eyes, even if I initially tricked myself into seeing something that wasn't there."

--

[katwriteswitcherthings]

Fandom: The Witcher (The Witcher 3 specifically)

Relationship: Prince Adrien/Kiyan

Rating: M

Additional Tags: AU - Modern Witchers, Light Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life, Museums, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Assholes in Love, Murder Husbands, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Past Torture, Soft Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Soft Kiyan (The Witcher), Vampire Prince Adrien

Summary:

Adrien loves to walk through art galleries and museums. Kiyan follows him loyally; his ever-present bodyguard. Adrien has a surprise for his most loyal companion.

A/N: Prompt #17 fill for @reverseprompts and The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #61.

This tried so hard to become smut, but alas, I ran out of time. I found this post after I had already written this, so it doesn't quite work for Adrien to be wearing (I don't think those shoes would click on hardwood floors), but I want him to be wearing it so badly and I thought you should know.

[aiyexayen]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1642

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Relationships: Ā-Yān & Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

Characters: Ā-Yān, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Love, Queerplatonic Relationships, Self-Acceptance, Ableism, (referenced in introspection), Souls, Neurodiversity, Sweet, Happy Ending, Fluff

Summary: A-Yan goes on a walk and has opinions about souls.

written for the Women of MDZS Flash Exchange

[resident-gay-bitch]

May 20; Flowers

Ship; Barty x Lily (Bartylily/deathflower)

@marauders-rarepair-fics

Barty's not really good at all this shit.

You know, all that pish posh romance crap.

He's not really cut out for the nice stuff. He's loud and crude and rough around the edges. Never really grew up experiencing what real love is supposed to feel like, and now he's just confused about it all the time. He thought love was bullshit, actually. A total load of steaming shit.

Until Lily came along.

She rolled her pretty, pretty, pretty green eyes at him and bossed Barty around and now he's head over fucking heals in love with her. Doing just about anything to get her attention, all he wants to do is look at her, and keep her close and safe, and get her to look at him.

She's even got him making a fool out of himself, trying his hand at romance. Regulus and Evan laughed at him this morning, when on their walk around the grounds, he began to pick flowers.

It was Valentines day after all, and walking up to the girl you're in love with and asking if she'd like a shag isn't really boyfriend material. But flowers are, right? Girls like flowers, right?

Bloody hell, what does he know? He only knows that his stupid heart is beating out of his stupid chest as he stands here, with his hand outstretched, with a bouquet of (mostly weeds, actually, but Barty doesn't know the difference) flowers, dead silent, staring intently at the girl who's snatched his heart.

"Are you going to say something, or just stand there like a statue?"

Barty swallowed so thickly he could hear it, "Uh- Uhm, yeah- or- I mean..."

"Barty?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Shit, fuck- shit. Here!" He said, shoving them at her chest, "Date... Date. Me... I mean... please?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" She asked, putting her quill down to take the messy bouquet. Now that Barty thinks about it, he could have made it look a bit nicer.

He nodded his head quite aggressively, pinks embarrassingly pink. Behind Lily's shoulder, over on the other side of the library, Regulus and Evan were laughing so hard at him they had tears in their eyes.

Lily glared up at him, and Barty thought he might die, "Is this a joke?"

"No!" He rushed out, his voice cracking he was so embarassed, "I... fuckin' hell, I fancy you, Lily. Ain't it obvious?"

Lily's cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, matching one of the flowers in the bunch before her, "Oh... then yes, I'd love to go on a date with you. How about Friday? Do you think that's enough time to figure out to speak in sentences that consist of more than two words?"

Barty nodded his head, never having felt so excited in his entire life. In a flash, he lent down to kiss the top of her head before rushing back over to his friends. He thinks he might make her up a better bouquet of flowers before their date, maybe he'll break into the greenhouse.

"What the fuck?" Evan said, staring at him blankly.

"I can't believe that worked." Regulus said, clearly confused.

Barty could only grin, feeling like he was on top of the stupid fucking world.

[trohpi]

killerqueen microfic [cross-posted on ao3]

@marauders-rarepair-fics • september 18: dragon • 996 words • CW: age gap (barty is 18, sirius is 22)

“Why, Sir Black,” Barty drawls, sleazy grin just as crooked and bloodied as his freshly broken nose. His eyes slowly trail down the length of Sirius’ armour before darting back up, uncanny green meeting steely grey. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Sirius ignores the flutter in his chest and takes his helmet off, tucking it under his arm as he shakes his hair out. He levels an unimpressed look at the boy on the floor. “I would ask if there’s something wrong with you, Lord Crouch, but I already know the answer to that particular question.”

“And I would say ‘Lord Crouch’ is my father, but I’m afraid ‘Barty’ is also my father so it appears I’m rather short on options.” The younger pointedly tugs at the binds around his wrists. “Now, if you would be so kind as to untie me, darling.”

“Yes, please do,” Rosmerta, the old barmaid who is the reason why Sirius came all the way here with Padfoot in the first place, says with a huff. She shoots a look at the knight that would put the fear of death in Magic herself. “Escort that scoundrel the Viscount calls a son out of my tavern. Now, please.”

“Of course, Madam,” Sirius says with his signature polished high-born smile while he grips Barty by the upper arm and yanks him to his feet. The abrupt movement pulls at his bound wrists and he grimaces, recoiling with protests on his lips. A warning kick to the back of his leg cuts him off.

“I apologise for him,” Sirius continues smoothly, ignoring the slight indignant squawk from Barty. Rosmerta watches on with a raised brow, expression somehow both amused and exasperated. “He lacks good form, despite his noble upbringing.”

“As if you were any better at his age,” she says dryly. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the mischief you and Potter got up to. Would still be getting up to if his father wasn’t passing on the crown soon.”

“Oh, you know you miss us, Roz,” Sirius says, voice slipping from the courtly tone he’d put on to something more roguish and playful. The older woman rolls her eyes.

“I can assure you I do not, Mister Black. My tavern is far better off without spoiled youths starting fights within its walls.” She shoots a pointed look at Barty, who flashes her a shameless grin in lieu of a reply. Sirius has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back an inappropriate snort. Shockingly, his little brother’s annoying best friend can occasionally be funny.

Only occasionally, though. He still gets under Sirius’ skin like no other, and most of the time their interactions are thick with tension. James says it’s because they’re so similar, and that they would most certainly get along if they spent more than five minutes together without picking a fight. Sirius dutifully ignores him.

He clears his throat and puts his helmet back on. “Right, well, apologies again. We’ll be on our way.”

“You’d best be,” Rosmerta warns before leaving the corner of the tavern she’d banished Barty to, tied like a prisoner while she waited for someone to collect him.

She’d contacted the palace looking for Regulus, but James— the traitor— had taken his brother out for the day and refused to allow Sirius to come with. Teasingly said he could manage without his knight for a few hours, and if anything were to genuinely happen, well. Regulus could handle it with his magic.

Perks of being Blessed, Sirius had thought sardonically. You can publicly court your brother’s princely best friend without needing said brother’s protection.

Sirius makes quick work of the ropes on the young Lord’s wrists and drags him outside, into the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, the outermost village in the kingdom.

“What is the matter with you?” he hisses as they make their way through the crowd, periodically shooting a charming smile at the townsfolk who stop and stare. “Starting tavern brawls? Seriously?”

Barty rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend you care, darling. We’re not friends. Don’t you have your precious Prince Potter to be guarding, or whatever it is you two do?”

“Stop calling me darling,” Sirius shoots back, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. “And James is with Reggie, so it seems you’re stuck with me. You’re lucky I didn’t just leave you there when Rosmerta called.”

“Oh, lucky me. The handsome Sir Black came to save the damsel in distress. However may I repay him?” Barty faux-swoons into his side. Sirius bites his tongue.

“Padfoot’s just over here,” he says instead of the acerbic reply he’d wanted to, tugging Barty through an alley away from the throng.

“And you left your dragon here, why?

“Well, it’s not like she can fit in the streets,” he huffs as they round the corner and catch sight of her.

Padfoot’s magnificent, her iridescent black scales shimmering softly where the sun hits her. She’s curled up like a cat in the empty backstreet, massive head resting on a pile of old crates like a pillow. Big yellow eyes blink sleepily at their approach, only to widen when she sees who they are. Padfoot chirps happily and clambors upright, exhaling a soft puff of smoke.

“Hello, love,” Sirius croons, letting Barty go in favour of running his hand along her side. Her dense body begins to rumble with crackling purrs.

With a heavy clang, Sirius carefully undoes the chain around her back leg and double checks the fastens on the saddle.

“Alright,” he says after a moment. “Hop on. Do be careful, though. Padfoot is known to have an appetite for insufferably gauche bastards.”

“Why, I wonder how you’ve evaded being eaten this long, then,” Barty comments lightly.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Crouch.”

“Make me, Black,” Barty grins, a mixture of mirth, enmity, and some third thing Sirius can’t quite name swimming in those striking green eyes. Sirius swallows, throat dry.

“Just get on the damned dragon.”

[astra-dark]

I finally get to share the first chapter of the Polygun fic I wrote for the Trigun rarepair flash bang on Twitter!

I was teamed with kotobuskek and they drew the cutest art ever! Please check it out here !

Here the link to the chapter!

I know this chapter is pretty much Vashwood city but I promise the girls on their way!

[hils79]

Hils Watches The Spirealm - Ep 38

Well, here we are at the end. Stil don't fully understand what's happening but that's kind of normal for me and cdramas so let's just roll with it. Hopefully this has a happier ending than Guardian but I'm not holding my breath given what's happened so far

Yes, thank you for reminding me

Aww is he going to design a new game where they can all live together happily? I'd take that as an ending.

Breaking news: dude who has demonstrated he doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself for the duration of this drama also doesn't give a shit about you

See, this is the difference between them and Ruan Lanzhu and Ling Jiushi. Evil dude is begging someone to die for him, whereas the other two would willingly die for each other

Ehehe! She let him die. Good for her!

Well, fuck. This really is reminding me of the ending of Guardian

CRYING

Oh I had legit forgotten that Ling Jiushi got hit by a car in the first episode. Well, this is all a bit Wizard of Oz

Aww look Chen Fei is a real doctor this time. So, wait, does that mean everything that happened since he got hit by a car was in his own head (OR WAS IT)

Wow that's quite the flash forward!

Aww well at least they're together in the end. Sort of.

Okay, what with the big deal with them never showing Gao Dawei's face though. I thought for sure he was going to look like Ruan Lanzhu and that he based the character on himself but we didn't ever see him.

I'm taking a drama break for a bit now because I have a rarepair exchange fic due in a month and I haven't even started it yet. But I'll be back soon!

[elliemarchetti]

Of Grief and Guilt

A depressing entry for @marauders-rarepair-fics and @stag-microfic’s prompts 25 (respectively monster and immune) inspired by this work of art.

Plot: Sirius mourns James. Non canon compliant.

Words: 378

The deer lay limp on the blood-soaked wooden floor, the dog’s dark head on its mute, motionless chest, waiting in vain for an impossible awakening. They rested in a pool of sticky crimson, brown eyes wide open, blind to the sorrow they were now immune to, grey ones blurred with blame yet so tastelessly alive.

The hound bit his mangled lips, choked on air he couldn’t get inside its lungs. He needed to muffle his stuttering, stumbling brain, the echoes of remorse and regret spreading in his eardrums like a disease, but he was so angry his limbs were numb, so angry he could only stare at the round, shattered spectacles a couple of feet away.

“If I don’t survive, move on for the both of us,” James had told him the last time they spoke, but how could he when his absence felt like an amputated limb, when even fleeting flashes of the way he used to tuck stray locks behind his ears were mutilation? Every deconstructed image of their fingers intwined was a bullet in the leaking hole he once called heart, every memory of phantom kisses and knowing, toothy grins just an excuse for his throat to burn with the remnants of insipid grief.

At the funeral, Sirius kneeled in front of the casket, in death like he should’ve in life, and instead of proposing with a ring he gently placed a new pair of glasses on his best friend’s face. For the first time, they sat straight on his nose, a clear sign the stag was far away, his legacy alive in every place he graced with his presence but his remains ready to feed the moist, unforgiving ground. He promised himself to never look back, but guilt consumed him like a flesh-eating monster, its fruits so decadent in their ripeness they rot his soul from the core. He had wandered aimlessly, trying to escape a beloved ghost haunting the field of his vision, but in the end, when a tepid spring began to give way to a hot summer, he broke his vow, lashes heavy with the salt of dried teardrops.

“You’re avenged,” he murmured, caressing the marble headstone, but only the howl of a lone wolf responded in the murderous, moonlit night.  

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher) Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Modren Au, Artist/Muse, Painting, Rare Pairings, Fade to Black, Lack of Communication, Miscommunication, mention of suicidal thoughts, Not Beta Read

Summary:

"Does my being late mean I won't be invited in?" the man finally asked, and Kiyan realized he had stared, keeping the client still on the doorstep.

"Please come in," he replied, still somewhat distracted, and opened the door wider so his visitor could finally enter. "To be honest, I thought you wouldn't show up."

"I would absolutely not miss such an opportunity." The man smiled brightly, but there was something predatory about the smile.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

For your drabble writing thingy🫶

Pairing: Carloscar

Word: satisfaction

Let the rarepair enthusiasts froth at the mouth (me included)! -lo

how satisfying (human behaviour)

a carloscar flash fic rated m 1.3k words read on ao3

dedicated to @lovelylotusf1 for the prompt, and @carlosheinz who is the resident carloscar preacher of the parish.

preview:

Today: Oscar’s hotel room. Too-big bed. Oscar catalogues sensations. A part of his mind, cold and detached. His life on exhibition, behind safety glass. A sign: not too close, please.  Mattress, softer than he’d like. Linen, scented in a forgettable hotel way. Minty mouthwash fighting the horrid cinnamon gum, an overwarm taste he has come to know as Carlos. Oscar spent time earlier, pulling different sounds from Carlos. Biting a point on Carlos’s neck, to feel the engine of him growling under Oscar’s own jaw. Minutes slipping onwards as he worked Carlos into a point of sharpened need. Now, Carlos is sprawled out on his back, beneath Oscar. Their two faces flushed, breathing just a little heavier. They’re both proud, and never like to let the effort show.

(this was meant to be a small drabble and i LIED, i'm sorry, the carloscar prompt was just too good. here i am submitting my application to be a permanent resident of carloscar nation.)