#I think I got three separate holidays into this little ficlet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fonulyn · 2 years

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fon's 2021 in fic

so I said I wouldn't and I did, the story of my life :'D I also managed to start this post three separate times and each time tumblr wiped it before I managed to actually post it, so this has been a true major test of strength. but I did post over ~350k of fic this year and I do think it deserves to be celebrated, so here we go!

fics are organized by pairing, roughly in a chronological order from oldest to newest, but so that the ao3 fics are first and the tumblr ficlets after them.

there’s exactly 100 fics (whoo!) (okay some of them are super short but i am counting them all, try and stop me :’D). featuring:

31 Piers/Leon

24 Chris/Leon

18 ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

7 Krauser/Leon

3 Jake/Piers

2 Wesker/Chris

6 “others” (Patrick/Leon, Adam/Leon, Jason/Leon, Claire/Leon, Queen Plaga/Leon, Lickers/Leon)

9 Joe/Nicky

so. here you go. and here’s to hoping that 2022 will be an equally good writing year :3

Piers/Leon

you can have it (you know you've got it) | 3,8k | Leon pushes his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and spins around to face Piers again. “Nice place, Nivans,” he says, flashing a grin that’s so charming that it alone is enough to make Piers feel a little weak in the knees.

got something to tell you (that I never thought I would) | 2,4k | The one wherein Leon proposes no less than four times. (Spoiler alert: Piers says yes. Eventually.)

memories are made of this | 8,8k | Leon recovers and finally gets his cast off, they celebrate their engagement a couple of different ways, and are sickeningly domestic.

driving deep into your heart | 2,2k | Piers, the newly crowned champion of MotoGP, gets a surprise visit from his boyfriend.

so I confide in you (for nothing compares to you) | 20k | Leon is sent in to rescue the president's son from a cult, and ends up getting more than he bargained for.

all I wanted (all I'll ever need) | 3,3k | This was the best birthday Leon had ever had. At least right at this moment he could’ve sworn to that, as having Piers spread out for him like this was the stuff dreams were made of.

love will always find the way | 15k | Leon meets Piers' family for the first time.

saved my heart for you | 8,2k | In a way, Piers had two first meetings with Leon S. Kennedy. Only for the first one of those he had no idea who he was with was actually Leon S. Kennedy. That is how it started, anyway. The journey itself was much, much longer. And worth every single step.

when the air's too thick to breathe | 1,9k | It was Leon, unmistakably so, lying on the ground half hidden by the undergrowth. His clothes were torn, his hair matted with blood, and he looked so pale that it was almost unreal. Almost as if he was sleeping, not--

maybe he's born with it | 1,7k | The one wherein there's a bet going within the BSAA whether Leon is a natural blond or not.

all that I need is just one moment in your arms | 1,9k | Leon saves Piers' life and gets hurt. It scores him cuddles, though.

fall in love so easy | 1,5k | Piers brings pet names into the equation. Leon kind of loves it.

you're my fantasy (someone I'm made for) | 4k | The one wherein they enjoy the easy access skirts provide.

so much more (than falling in love) | 3,2k | Their holiday plans get disrupted by an amazing bathtub.

will you be by me? | 12k | Piers comes back home infected and mutated. As a cherry on top, he doesn't even remember who Leon is. Leon is determined to stay by him, to help him heal, no matter the cost. In the end, it is a story of love and recovery.

no boundaries | 2,6k | They hide in a closet from a tyrant. They also get a little carried away.

never too much to ask for | 4k | The one wherein Leon learns how amazing hugs are.

and it takes me over again | 3,6k | They fight a giant snow monster, Piers gets a bad burn and Leon takes care of him.

you're feeding the fire within me | 7,5k | Piers and Leon get dosed with Rebecca's new Super-Viagra. It's fuck-or-die. And, boy, do they fuck.

stay until the end of life | 9,5k | After the plaga did a number on Leon's insides, leaving him slowly dying, there doesn't seem to be much hope left. Somehow, he gets there anyway, even if the road to recovery is a rocky one.

'cause everyone's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man | 3,3k | Leon walks in on Piers' private time, but in the end it's a win-win for everyone.

cleanse the wounds and forget the name | 2,7k | A new BSAA recruit just can't shut up, talking shit about everything important. When he starts shit-talking Leon, Piers simply needs to shut him up. With his fist.

nothing else remains | 4,4k | Leon might have a tiny praise kink. Just a little one.

only the courage to continue counts | 26k (ongoing) | RE4 au. Leon isn't sent to Spain alone but with a partner. Too bad he has a tendency to get attached to his partners way too easily.

winter lovin' (there's snow one like you) | 12k | Piers takes Leon on a snowy vacation in Lapland.

delete the ladder | 500w | Leon finds that the Sims has changed from when he last played it. It's gotten worse.

lessons in relaxation | 1,2k | Piers has slept beside his friends before, it's not a big deal. He can sleep anywhere. Except apparently now his big gay crush on Leon is making it A Big Deal. Thankfully Leon knows how to make him relax.

healing | 860w | The mission left Leon broken, bruised and banged up, and he's fully prepared to tough it out alone while Piers is on whatever mission the BSAA has sent him on. Except Piers has other ideas.

favorite uncles | 970w | Piers' niece sometimes gets to stay for a sleepover with them. They all kind of love it.

hot like hell | 755w | Not even a thousand degrees of sweltering summer heat can make Leon keep his hands off Piers.

under the rubble | 1,1k | Leon gets trapped in the basement of a collapsed building, and it takes him a moment to realize he's not alone. Truthfully, the company is the best he's had in ages.

Chris/Leon

kiss your eyes, caress your hair, kill that pain away | 5,9k | Glenn Arias kidnaps Leon because he reminds him of his dead husband. Leon is not having the time of his life.

when you don't look, you find | 3,5k | Childhood friends are reunited in 1999.

it is time to do something right | 2,6k | Being thrown into a wall came as no surprise at all. Leon didn’t even remember a time when he hadn’t been thrown around by these gigantic monsters, it had become more the norm than the exception. And of course Arias did it too, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

dance to the end of love | 1,5k | Chris tries to teach Leon to dance.

no space between | 1k | Leon passes out from exhaustion. But he gets cuddles, at least.

tell me that I'm okay, tell me that you'll stay | 1,8k | Chris finds Leon at the morgue with what's left of his team.

end of the road | 1,8k | The one where a life is lost.

sweet distraction | 2,6k | The one wherein Chris offers Leon an alternative to overworking himself.

change all that's gone before | 3k | For the first time, a mission gone sideways doesn't only earn Leon bruises.

you know I want you and you want me | 1,3k | “If we weren’t in public right now,” Chris says, so low that only Leon can hear. His hot breath hits Leon’s ear, and Leon shudders helplessly already before Chris goes on. “I’d have my head between your legs.”

you give me heart to carry on | 1,9k | Chris is in danger and all Leon can do is wait. It is hell.

take me through the night | 1,8k | Chris comes back home early and they celebrate accordingly.

dressed to kill | 1,8k | Chris enjoys some lace on Leon.

that sweet sensation of living in your love | 1,8k | The one wherein Leon helps Chris relax, in multiple ways.

(tho i am made of glass i am) safe in the palm of your hand | 1,6k | Chris is held captive, but Leon gets him out of there.

time for retirement | 730w | After they both get injured on a mission, Chris and Leon talk retirement. Maybe some feelings, too.

glasses | 511w | Chris likes Leon wearing glasses.

how much i missed you | 1,1k | Chris gets woken up for some sleepy midnight sex.

dance with me | 1,5k | Claire tricks Chris and Leon into taking dancing classes together. They're both going to owe her.

a cheap shot (but whatever works) | 1,2k | Chris learns that the new rookie broke his unbreakable record at the shooting range. He's got to meet the man who managed that.

glasses, take two | 400w | Leon likes Chris wearing glasses.

it's a roadtrip, baby | 890w | Driver picks the music. Everyone else complains.

dirty pirates know the dirtiest tricks | 910 | Chris hates that Claire makes him wear the stupid sailor costume to a Halloween party. After that helps him score a date, though, he might owe her an apology.

aches | 610w | Chris can't sleep.

ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

been crazy for you, so long | 2,2k | The one where they fuck. Again. Fun times is had by all.

so good together | 2,3k | The one wherein Chris gets shown a good time.

here after | 2,6k | Chris is sick and gets taken care of.

so hold on tight | 2,8k | Leon gets himself injured on a mission, but at least he gets a little help from his boyfriends.

put me in a daze | 1,9k | The one wherein Leon gets fucked until he barely knows his own name.

with you by my side | 1k | Leon is sick and gets taken care of.

not giving up yet | 3,9k | Chris and Piers get in trouble. Good thing they have Leon, and his absolutely official obviously approved strike team.

all the things that matter | 3,8k | Piers is sick and gets taken care of.

we'll take on the world and wait | 7,4k | Someone from Chris's past kidnaps Piers and Leon to set him a trap.

and love shall heal the scars | 8k | Even at Leon's funeral, Chris and Piers don't believe that he is really gone. They're going to get him back. No matter the cost.

a little bit of caretaking | 700w | Piers comes home absolutely exhausted. Chris and Leon make it better.

happy accidents | 1k | Piers sends Leon a suggestive picture. Except he picks the wrong number and Chris almost ends up having a heart attack. He certainly ends up getting some, eventually, so he can definitely forgive that.

last chance garage | 830w | Chris, Leon and Piers have that garage. Even if Piers seems to be the only one who ever gets any work done, goddamnit.

it's not that bad | 400w | Chris is afraid of going to the dentist.

i could take you on | 520w | Leon is super sleepy and gets taken to bed.

enjoying the show | 640w | Leon is so effortlessly badass he has half of BSAA drooling after him.

sleep seduction | 1k | Piers and Chris try to trick Leon into sleeping more. It works.

shower shenanigans | 800w | Chris, Leon and Piers enjoy a post mission shower.

Krauser/Leon

slipping on a razor's edge (I hope you'll finally find me) | 4,8k | It's 2013 and Krauser has been dead for almost a decade. Except he hasn't.

hold on to what is never changing | 3,6k | The one wherein Krauser's back. Again.

when the light of the chosen has died | 1k | Every single movement sends a flash of pain through Leon and he grimaces, bringing his hand to his side. But there's no choice but to keep moving. No choice but to try to get away.

so came our time | 1,1k | The one with final goodbyes.

can't help but follow in spite of going insane | 2,6k | Krauser takes too long to kill Leon and Saddler intervenes.

can we pretend (that we end up okay) | 5,1k | Krauser keeps on coming back. Even worse, Leon doesn't want anyone else as much as he wants Krauser.

i'll keep watch | 820w | Leon is tired and overwhelmed but no matter what he does he can't sleep. Not until Krauser helps him.

Jake/Piers

(we don't have to fight) if I can take you home tonight | 1,5k | “Fucking hell,” Piers groaned, letting his head fall backwards onto Jake’s shoulder as a full-bodied shudder shook his frame. As an answer Jake tightened his hold of Piers’ hip with one hand, sliding his other palm down to Piers’ thigh.

all the things you are | 10k | Much to his shock (and displeasure), Piers found out the man he'd been falling for was an actual goddamn mercenary.

kiss before the fall | 3,6k | After they're back from the underwater facility, Piers and Jake can no longer ignore the mounting tension between them.

Wesker/Chris

you will feel it when all your love is gone (you will love it when all your love is wrong) | 3,4k | Tonight was the night Wesker’s plans would come to fruition. It was a pity, he thought, that tonight Chris would be walking into his death. Only eight years later, they meet again.

when the Master is slave to his life | 450w | Jill might not be in control of herself but she is still aware. And watching Wesker obsess over Chris is starting to get on her nerves.

others

maybe one day | Patrick/Leon | 725w | Surprisingly, Leon asks Patrick if he'd like to have dinner with him. Patrick eagerly agrees.

just a man | Adam Benford/Leon | 2,5k | If there is one thing that Leon S. Kennedy knows it's loneliness. Sometimes he needs help to cope.

without hope, without fear | Jason/Leon | 4,7k | Leon's eyes slipped shut, and when Jason leaned down and kissed him, he didn't stop him. Then Jason was between his thighs, kissing him again, and Leon let himself imagine it was Krauser instead.

hooked on you | Claire/Leon | 1k | Leon tries to convince Claire to stay home instead of going out for dinner.

on an all time high | Leon/Queen Plaga | 5,9k | The one wherein Leon gets thoroughly monster-fucked.

lost control | Leon/lickers | 3,1k | Leon didn't even know lickers had dicks, not before he found two of them fucking. He could've lived his life without that knowledge, but seems that interrupting the two means they'll now make him their target. And not in the we're-going-to-slash-your-throat kind of way.

Joe/Nicky

someone like you | 3,1k | No powers AU. The one wherein there is only one bed. Maybe not entirely by accident.

here sometimes | 1k | The one wherein they have a sleepy three am dance.

the man and his moon | 1,2k | The one wherein Nicky takes care of Joe after a nightmare.

gone so far already | 1k | The one wherein they kiss for the first time.

the fire within | 1k | The one wherein Yusuf gets his fingers into Nicolò’s long hair.

little wonders | 900w | The team takes a small break and enjoy a day at the market place.

someone to adore | 1,6k | The one wherein Joe is a charming vet and Nicky owns multiple dogs.

patchwork quilt of a life | 27k | A scrapbook of memories through a millennium, and a family adjusting to a new normal.

who likes short shorts | 720w | Nile takes Nicky shopping and they come back with some obscenely short shorts with... questionable things printed on the backside.

#my fics #chreon #nivannedy #ot3 #kreon #metaltango #chrisker #jake/piers #joe/nicky #idk what to even tag #this was such a long process :'D #so much work lol #but i love me some lists #lists make me happy #2021 #here's to hoping i didn't screw up the links #ughhh

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missdaviswrites · 3 years

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4--Deck the Halls

"Oh, that's a lovely little holiday cheer, isn't it, John?" Mrs. Hudson said as John followed her into the house, carrying the results of her afternoon of Christmas shopping.

"What's that?" He shifted the bags in his arms so he could close the door behind him, then turned to see that she was admiring a stack of neatly-wrapped gift boxes piled next to a small tree on the table in the hallway outside her flat. "Oh, looks like Sherlock and Rosie were decorating while we were out." It had become a tradition, started when Rosie was a toddler, and it seemed each year she and Sherlock got more elaborate in their efforts.

Mrs. Hudson lifted one of the boxes and shook it. "I think they just wrapped up empty boxes."

"Probably. I can send them down to help you with everything you bought today, if they like wrapping so much."

"That would be lovely. Send them separately, and they can wrap each other's gifts."

John dropped all her purchases off in her flat and headed upstairs, thinking about how much he needed to sit down, put his feet up and have a nice cup of tea after spending four hours out in the shops. He knew to brace himself as he opened the door to the flat, but for once his imagination had created a bigger mess than Rosie and Sherlock had. They had decorated, but the empty boxes had already been moved out of sight, presumably down into the storage in 221A. There were more lights strung around the living room than there had been last year, and the mirror over the fireplace was covered in snowflakes that Rosie had made in school. The overall effect was a that of a cozy, family-oriented Christmas, and John thought it all looked very nice.

Sherlock and Rosie both called out to greet him when he entered the flat, but neither got up from where they sat on the floor near the Christmas tree, which had been erected in its usual spot in front of the window behind Sherlock's chair. They had a half-dozen tubes of gift wrap spread out around them and seemed to be in the middle of—oh, that was what had happened to the empty ornament boxes. They were wrapping them to use in their decorative displays. Clever, but then John expected no less from them.

"You two have been busy, haven't you? Do you want a cuppa? Mrs. Hudson wore me out, and I need to sit and relax for a while."

"No, we had tea a little while ago. Kettle's probably still warmish," Sherlock said. "Did she buy everything on her list?"

"And then some."

"Good, then I won't have to take her out again next week while you're at work." Sherlock reached over to hold down a flap of wrapping paper while Rosie taped it into place, and John smiled and left them to their project.

The kettle was still warm, but had less than a cup's worth of water, so John refilled it and opened the cabinet, only to find that their regular supply of tea cups and mugs had been replaced by a Christmas-themed set. He sighed. Sherlock's parents had given them the set a few years ago, but John much preferred to drink out of their regular cups. "Where are all the normal tea cups?"

"Oh." Sherlock appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Sorry. We wrapped them."

"You wrapped them? I thought you were just wrapping empty boxes."

"No, we've wrapped some empty boxes, but others had things inside them. Don't worry, we didn't wrap anything you'll need between now and Christmas."

John grumbled but pulled a mug decorated with ice skating penguins out from the cabinet. He could manage for a few weeks, he supposed.

When his tea was ready, he carried it out into the living room and collapsed into his chair with a groan of relief. Rosie was still working on wrapping something, though her back was to him so he couldn't see what it was. Sherlock began to pick up the stack of colorful boxes and arrange them beneath the tree.

"So those are all fake packages? Not real gifts?"

"Yes. We'll move them when it's time for the real thing."

"And you'll clean up all that paper when you're done unwrapping them, too."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock looked at Rosie and they both sighed.

John shook his head and took a sip of his tea, then picked up the newspaper he hadn't had time to read this morning and reached to grab his reading glasses from their spot on the table next to his chair. Except they weren't in their spot on the table next to his chair. "Have either of you seen my glasses?"

"Oh." Sherlock straightened up and turned towards John. "Erm. Rosie, do you know which basket they went in?"

Rosie stood up and rummaged around on the desk for a moment—it hadn't been decorated yet, or rather it had been covered in decorations because it was being used as a staging area for every Christmas trinket they hadn't set out yet. She lifted a green and red basket about the size of a dinner plate; John saw at least two more like it on the desk. Each was filled with a variety of small objects, all covered in bright and cheerful gift wrap.

"What is that?" John asked, though he had a sinking feeling that he knew.

"Rosie invented a game," Sherlock said. He took the basket from her and peered into it, then pulled out an object covered in red and white striped paper. An object that was shaped suspiciously like a pair of eyeglasses.

"A game?"

"We wrap things up, then on Christmas Eve we try to guess what they are before we open them," Rosie said, bouncing on her toes.

"But you took my glasses!"

Sherlock handed the basket back to Rosie. He waved the wrapped glasses towards John. "These aren't your reading glasses—those are in the bedroom. These are your spare reading glasses."

"No, those are my reading glasses that I keep in the living room. For reading. In the living room. The ones in the bedroom are for when I'm reading in bed."

"You have another pair at work, don't you? You don't need three pairs of reading glasses, John."

"Yes, I do. I keep one in each place where I'm likely to need them so I don't end up moving them around and misplacing them." He grabbed the package away from Sherlock, tore the paper off and let it drop to the floor, then settled the glasses in place on his nose. Next year he was going to send Sherlock out shopping with Mrs. Hudson, and he would stay home and decorate the flat with Rosie.

--read all the ficlets here: Put a Little Love in Your Heart

#2020 advent ficlet challenge #johnlock #parentlock #rosie watson #fluff #sherlock christmas ficlets #my ficlet

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livlepretre · 3 years

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6 TVD Prompt Ficlets

Filling a bunch of prompts sent in by @finnismyoriginalsin last August– I didn’t take all of them, so seriously, if any of these tickle anyone, GO WRITE because they are all fantastic!

(Jeremy x Katherine; Tatia, Katherine, Elena x Klaus; Tyler!Klaus x Elena; Klaus x Elena; Alaric!Klaus x Elena; Elijah x Elena)

Prompts:

Not 12am here yet so lol..I have a few more if you wanna do.

Prompt: Stefan is Jack the Ripper with the help of Klaus and Rebekah, obv it’s how he earned the nickname.

Prompt: Jeremy finds the old timey photo of Katherine, meets Katherine who he mistakes for his sister at first (may or may not be shippy).

It’s entirely fucked. He knows that.

The thing is it had all started innocently enough– no one had ever thought to fill him in on the whole evil twin thing, noooo, better to leave him in the dark and let him bleed his broken heart onto his not-sister’s shoulder and start this thing– this thing he thought was Elena letting him in, finally being present, where just about every week she would take him out to this bar outside of town that never cards and buy him drinks and listen. And they would talk.

They never discussed it, it just seemed to spontaneously happen. Between Jenna always listening in on his conversations and her stalker boyfriends that made sense to Jeremy.

So by the time he figured out it wasn’t Elena he’d been spending all this time with, his head had got twisted around. He’d been angry and hurt and somehow those nights out with his sister that he adored turned into even longer nights where he would stare into the sultry, sharp features of the vampire like he was looking into a funhouse mirror. That was how he first noticed the shape of her mouth, the sharpness of her pearly white teeth. How he first imagined that mouth on him, those teeth in him.

The leap from imagination to reality is devastatingly short.

She likes to ask him questions while she nurses his dick, nurses the bloody bites in his thighs. He tells her everything she asks for. More. He’s always liked talking to her. Likes being inside of her even more, even though it means he has to blush and look away whenever his sister walks into a room.

Until one day she stops coming by. He waits for her, and waits.

It takes forever to realize that whatever she had wanted from him, she must have gotten.

It’s soon after that that Damon approaches him with a plan to take the bitch down at the masquerade, and he’s all too eager to participate.

Prompt: Tatia, Katherine, Elena, Amara x Klaus, he can’t escape her, he’s the one running now.

She’s everywhere. He turns the corner: there she is. Looks in the mirror, and there, standing just behind him again, her, her, her.

A thousand years have passed, and while the memory of Tatia Petrova has surely haunted him, it had not been until after the sacrifice, when he’d revenged himself on Katerina and drained that last girl wearing a damned face had the haunting become quite so literal.

Now Tatia follows him for true, her eyes an accusation as she looks and looks and looks at him and refuses to ever look away, her gaze still and fixed as only the dead’s can be.

Katerina plucks at his sleeves, her hands thin and gray as they never were in all the years he had known her. Where once she had caressed him with those hands, had loved him with those hands, now all she can do is demand from him that he acknowledge her. That he look at her, and see what he has done to her. He never looks, because then he would have to see the gaping wound in her chest where once her heart had been. She had given him her heart once, and he had taken exquisite pleasure in holding that still beating heart in his hand and ripping it from her chest, in watching the gray crawl of extinguishment creep over her skin. He had been a fool.

The worst is the last one. Elena, he reminds himself.

Her skin painted with blood from head to toe, flames eternally licking at her hands and her feet. He always knows she’s found him again from the scent of charnel that follows her on a windless breeze. Of all of them, she holds herself farthest back. Never looks at him, never even seems to notice him. It’s unbearable, when he can feel around his wrists and around his ankles and threading through his ribs heavy chains, forging his fate with hers. Her last words had been Go to hell. He had not realized at the time that she intended to drag him there herself. He feels the weight of them, pulling ever tighter. Her silhouette is thinner every time he spies her. He doesn’t want to think what will happen to him when she disappears entirely.

And so he runs. Leaves America, and then the Western Hemisphere altogether. Abandons civilization and society to plunge into the deepest forests, the darkest seas, daring to outrun the inevitable.

Everywhere she finds him. She, she, and she.

His three-faced goddess. His death where he had only ever thought to look for triumph.

He had thought the chase was over that day he plunged his fangs into Elena Gilbert’s neck, but now he knows: that was the day the true hunt began.

Prompt: Davina brings back both Kol and Finn accidentally, their ashes were mixed in the urn. And/or Davina brings back Finn who masquerades as Kol for a bit.

Prompt: Klaus x Davina, he also has a thing for witches like Kol. Gold dagger threats.

Prompt: Rebekah x Kol, secret liaisons

Prompt: Tyler!Klaus x Elena, awkward morning after, angst. And/or Tyler!Klaus x Caroline bc that would be super awkward and angsty.

It’s obvious as soon as she wakes up with her head clearer than it’s been since she turned that this is a huge irrevocable mistake. The mistake to end all mistakes.

Elena creeps out from Tyler’s bed, cringing at the dried blood plastered all over both of their bodies, mapping the wild caresses that had led to the frenzied fucking last night. She trips almost right away– she lands hard on the floor, where she is forced to look into the glassed over eyes of the girl she and Tyler had picked up at the Founder’s party last night and, in a whiskey-drenched, blood-starved haze, seduced and then devoured.

She groans, hanging her head in her hands, as viscous guilt surges up in her throat like bitter bile.

Worse. Her gums ache. Even now she’s wondering when her next opportunity to do it again will be.

“Lovely. You’re awake.” Tyler sits up and stretches.

Elena narrows her eyes at him. Something about his word choice seems off. She’s known Tyler since they were in diapers, and never once has she heard him use the word lovely. In fact, there’s been something odd about Tyler ever since he mysteriously, miraculously didn’t die when Klaus burned–

The blanket falls off of him and she is faced with the evidence of everywhere she had touched him with her hands and her mouth last night, all mapped out in vivid crimson like the cheat, the slut, the failure she is.

“What are we going to do? What are we going to tell Care?” Elena moans, huddling in on herself. She draws her knees to her chest and rests her forehead against them. There’s a dab of blood on her left thigh and she can’t help sticking her tongue out to taste it, to comfort herself with it, even in the pit of all of her anguish.

She’s gone and slept with her best friend’s boyfriend. Completely lost control of herself and abandoned everything that made her decent and worth loving. And she’s a murderer too, now. A really, really hungry one.

“We should come clean with her,” Tyler says. “Straight away.” He eyes her naked body. “Well, perhaps after another bout. What do you say?” He crawls onto the floor with her and pins her beneath him.

Lightning flashes through her brain. She kicks herself for not realizing sooner– but how could she? She’s been a wrecked, starving mess ever since she woke up on that coroner’s table coughing her lungs out.

“Tell me again what you said after you saved me from Klaus,” she whispers. “In the kitchen.”

The hybrid on top of her pauses. “I wanted you to drink some orange juice.”

She shoves him off of her and darts to the other side, looking for her clothes. “First off, as though Tyler Lockwood would ever offer me anything other than a shot,” she says, thrusting her legs into her jeans. “Second off, what the hell, Klaus?” She stares down at her arms. She’s covered in Klaus-marks. Her skin crawls. “What was this? Why are you in Tyler’s body?”

He stretches and prowls towards her. “I’m on holiday here until your little witch friend can find a way to jump me back into my own without that stake destroying me as soon as she does.”

“And so you thought you’d just have a go at me?”

“You handed me the perfect opportunity to separate Miss Forbes from her boyfriend.” He leers at her. “I must say, though, the after dinner show was far beyond my expectations. I do hope I can persuade you for an encore.”

She slaps him. “You’re vile. I’d rather–”

“You’re already dead, and next to that, whatever else you might say is going to pale in comparison.” He leans in, brushes his mouth against her ear.

Elena represses the shiver of delight and disgust that rolls through her.

“And before you go casting stones: you still slept with me when you thought I was your dear friend’s boyfriend. What does that say about you?”

Prompt: Finn x Rebekah or Freya, first meetings again.

Prompt: Klaus x Elena, hybrid baby somehow, oops can’t kill her now. Or, something pre season 1.

“You’re cheating on me?” he asks, bewildered.

Elena– sweet, sexy, sixteen year old Elena– swats him, dashing tears away from her eyes in the next motion. “Of course not! God, how can you even think– Of course it’s yours.”

“I highly doubt that.” Never sleep with a Petrova woman. That has been the rule he has been muttering to himself for 500 years. Why couldn’t he ever listen to himself? No, he just had to seduce the girl while he hunted for the moonstone, he couldn’t just leave her alone once he’d seen her–

“Well, I regret sleeping with you too,” she sniffles. “But since you’re the only one I’ve ever been with–”

In an instant he’s caught her in his gaze. “Tell me who the true father of your child is,” he compels her. Once he has a name, he can vent his frustration and jealousy out on him. Snapping necks always makes him feel better.

“You are,” she informs him, bringing the sky to come crashing down on his head without so much as batting a pretty black eyelash.

He sputters, pushing her away from him. His thoughts spark and short– how– perhaps–

He studies her wildly. Could her doppelganger nature be responsible?

He curses, all at once becoming aware of the weight of the moonstone in his pocket.

How can he sacrifice her now? He’ll have to wait– he pauses, tries to recall how long human pregnancies last– Well. Never mind. He’ll have to wait, at any rate. First for the child to be born, then for it to be weaned. And then? He can already foresee a limitless expanses of reasons to wait longer as this Elena Gilbert raises his child piling up in front of him.

And as he waits, Elena will only grow ever more beautiful and deadly. And he will have no choice but to fall in love with her.

Prompt: Alaric!Klaus x Caroline or Elena, meeting after class, creep.

“Elena, stay a minute after class.”

The girl pauses in the middle of packing up her bag, her large doe eyes curious but trusting. So trusting. Had Katerina ever looked at him like that? Tatia certainly never had.

As the class shuffles out, he takes the liberty of closing and locking the door, noting how still the girl doesn’t question him.

Isobel had chosen well when she’d selected the history teacher.

“What’s this about, Ric? Is it about–” she ducks her chin, very seriously, how sweet– “Klaus?” she half-whispers, half-mouths.

An absolute thrill rolls up his spine at the shape of his name in her mouth.

“Is there something you know that I don’t?” he asks carefully, fighting a smirk.

The girl’s face goes smooth as glass. He suddenly has a desire to tear her scalp free, the better for him to look inside her brain at all of those thoughts he can fair see swirling mercilessly behind her dark eyes.

He hovers over her desk. Cannot resist tucking a long tendril of her silky brown hair behind her ear, to sink into those abyssal eyes like an animal trapped in tar. Those eyes could smother a man. A vampire.

“Keep your guard up,” he murmurs, chucking her under the chin. “You never know who could lying in wait.”

Prompt: Elijah x Elena, him and his ties, during first seeing her after smelling her (you know the gif)

The shock of her existence is immense. In a moment, his entire world realigns. Shifts back into an alignment so seamless and perfect he cannot believe that he had gone on for centuries thinking this possibility were gone forever. This girl– this as yet unnamed, unknown, human girl– is a miracle. An opportunity for vengeance and maybe– just maybe– a chance for redemption.

He straightens his tie. Cannot fight the smile on his face as he greets her. “Hello.”

Sorry lol, damn I ship too many things.

#if anyone wants the prompts I didn't take #PLEASE have at them!#they look super fun!#I just don't have the energy lol #klaulena #elejah #tvd fic #5 sentence fics #submission

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5lazarus · 3 years

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My Dragon Age Fanfiction Masterlist

In chronological order, from Arlathan to post-Trespasser.

There Is No Ithaca Three moments where Solas loses his home: Solas wrecks his revolution on the altar of Mythal. Solas returns from war to find Ghilan’nain incubating the Blight within their own home. Fen'Harel negotiates the end of the world with the Thaig of the Bastion of the Pure. Answers to various asks from brightoncemore’s wonderful promptlist.

Overheard at the Hanged Man Thirty-one stories written in Nightmare-mode for Beyond the Veil’s 2020 Artober Challenge, ranging through the entire series, from Arlathan before the Blight to the Chargers in Serault.

Alistair the Accidental Heretic Alistair gets bored during morning prayer and starts changing the words of the Chant as he sings. Mother Prudence and Knight-Commander Greagoir are less than pleased, and soon he finds himself tripping up over accidental heresy even within the kitchens of Kinloch Hold. It’s not easy, being a half-elf templar with a conscience, because even having a sense of humor is heresy.

The Starkhaven Crier A portrait of two future apostates at ten-year-olds: Jowan and Surana are bored, get dragged to the Chantry for the good of their souls, and accidentally make the new girl from Starkhaven cry. Featuring Surana determined to be the one Dalish against letting the Maker come back, the self-hating mage in the Surana/Amell origin as the Starkhaven Crier, and the same Mother Prudence who sent Alistair to bed without supper. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Morrigan at the Crossroads Morrigan reaches her breaking point, confronted with the one person she cannot flee: her six-week-old son, who cannot be soothed back to sleep, struggling in the Crossroads. From a prompt musettta3 sent me.

Shartan’s Riddle Surana talks Mahariel through writing Leliana, after Leliana leaves to work for the Divine. Shartan promised them a home, and Mahariel worries Leliana, devout as she is, cannot give it to her. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Winter in Amaranthine The Wardens’ companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Phosphorescence A Despair demon in the Foundry district is clogging up the whole city with a miasma of misery. Justice runs into an old friend of his, during Anders’ first few weeks in Kirkwall, and the three set to work. Heavy-handed allegory abounds, but, Justine opines, that’s the Dreamers’ fault. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me.

Labyrinth "Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Kirkwall Thunderstorm Family squabbling as the storm sets in, Hawke flees to face the thunderstorm head on, and laughs, because what’s more to life than this, chasing a storm all the way down to the harbor? From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I’ve written in 2020.

Debutante Leandra manages Hawke’s debut ball, and surprises herself by having a lot of fun. From an OC ask I decided to turn into a prompt.

Dregs Anders baits Varric, or Varric baits Anders, both drunk at the Hanged Man. There’s no resolution to an argument when they’re both just angry, thinking about dead mages. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I’ve written in 2020.

The Scent of Pomegranates Merrill brings a pomegranate to the Hanged Man, to try and capture some of the way her clan celebrated the new year. Fenris is oddly moved. Written for the DA Den’s 2020 Holiday Gift Exchange.

Anders in Autumn Anders and Fenris, over the course of one gorgeous autumn in Kirkwall, find common ground, a common goal, and even tenderness, as the city grows cool and vibrant in the changing of the year. Justice returns to the streets of Kirkwall, one way or another, and it is as transformative and loving as justice truly is. An answer to an Artober challenge from cozy-autumn-prompts.

Warp & Weft Anders wakes Fenris up in the middle of the night talking, and then not wanting to talk, about weaving. What they remember and what they have forgot climb into the bed with them. A gift for potatowitch.

Landlocked Merrill goes looking for Isabela after a night of drinking at the Hanged Man, and finds her considering the sun rising over the horizon at the docks. They're landlocked and the salt's drained them both dry, but maybe it's not all been a waste. They're shipless, not shipwrecked. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

Catabasis Kirkwall’s in ashes and Hawke and their friends are on the run. Varric might have ended the story at the docks, but the conflict continues. The question persists: should they separate? And what brought them together in the first place? From a series of prompts ellie-effie and musetta3 sent me.

Dead Man Hiking Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, “he wants to give wisdom, not orders,” and Dorian loves to learn. Written for Beyond the Veil’s 2020 Satinalia Gift Exchange.

Dirthara Ma! May You Learn After the Exalted Council, Solas stops for a drink and a sulk in a quiet tavern in Ostwick. He is convinced no one will ever recognize him with a full head of hair and a beard. Then the Inquisitor walks in. The first in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series.

White Nights A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers–and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking. “Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” The second and most comprehensive in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I’ve written in 2020.

Ligaments Briala has loaded her dice when playing the Game. Gaspard throws her in prison, but her message goes out to both the Dread Wolf, keen to better his reputation for catastrophe amongst the elves of Orlais, and the Dalish Inquisitor, who is still reeling from the loss of her arm. “We do not necessarily know he is the enemy,” Leliana says. “And it is exciting, no? To have that rush of danger and destruction between every kiss.” The third in a canon-compliant post-Trespasser Solavellan series. From the six Florence & the Machine prompts that ellie-effie sent me. One of my favorite things I’ve written in 2020.

Out From Under the Dread Wolf's Eye Briala and Merrill try and steal an eluvian out from under the Dread Wolf's eye. It doesn't quite work, but that doesn't mean the day's a failure, not when there's dinner to be had and a connection to explore. Part of a personal challenge to write more femslash, after realizing how little there is in Dragon Age fandom.

The Domesticities Solas adjust to a new, gentle love that has gripped his heart and will not let him go: a Lavellan who heralds a world he did dream of, and learns how to survive grief and his own betrayal, learns how to surrender the high moral ground and focus on the domesticities. A series of Solas-POV ficlets from my story, Fen'Harel’s Teeth, where Lavellan is a mother and leader in her own right, and barely keeping her head above the water of her own deep grief. Not in chronological order!

He Who Hunts Alone Solas will restore the Elvhen People as he knew them, even if this world must die. It is his only purpose as he understands it. But a magical accident leaves him in another world, where a version of himself has made a very different choice. Solas is forced to reckon with a desire he has never let himself explore. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan, both his friend and adversary, is dragged with him, as they move from their world, to a world where Solas seems to have won it all, to another that seems both their worst nightmare. Inquisitor Tara Trevelyan: the rebel apostate mage, romanced Josephine Inquisitor Imladris Lavellan: the Dalish First, romanced Solas, featured in Fen'Harel’s Teeth Inquisitor Brigid Trevelyan: the faithful Andrastian prophet, rogue and noble, Tara’s sister, romanced Blackwall and then Cullen Written in tandem with my partner, batsy22-me, and likewise abandoned when we got bored of it.

Fen'Harel’s Teeth First Lavellan, Imladris Ashallin, thought that her audience with the Divine against templars’ harassment of Dalish mages would be a token protest, and that her people would use it to draw the city elves closer to the Vir Tanadahl. She didn’t think her Keeper’s calculations would catapult her to the top of the Chantry’s leadership, manipulating the powers of Thedas to leave her people be. Meanwhile, Briala foments revolution in Halamshiral, using the eluvian network to sabotage the armies of Orlais. A new movement erupts in the Dales, and elves across Thedas look at this so-called “Herald of Andraste” and see Mythal’s vallaslin. Fiona breaks the chains of mages across Thedas, and Fenris starts whispers of a new age in Tevinter–one where the slaves throw down their masters. A new age is coming, and all of Thedas look to Lavellan to usher it in. My baby, my never-ending story, my current work-in-progress.

#dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction masterlist #5lazarus #hes5thlazarus

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

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Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey) - Olicity AU, Explicit

Summary: Oliver is Felicity’s boss at Queen & Queen, a prestigious international law firm. She’s the tech genius, he’s the top dog’s son, and they viciously disagree on nearly everything. Despite that, they work together, neither outright acknowledging the ever-present simmering attraction that has slowly been growing hotter and hotter…

Until a chance meeting at a grocery store one night has them crossing a line, a tiny little line that was never meant to be crossed.

A collection of ficlets in the same ‘verse: Of Law Firms and Honey.

Rated: Explicit

Full fic: AO3 | Tumblr | Timeline

Reminder: This is not a story about love. This is a story that ends in love, but it definitely does not start that way.

Please read the story tags and notes at the beginning of each chapter.

This fic is being told out of order. Please see the timeline to read them in order. Please see the previous installments for additional author notes and story information.

Check out the Four Walls playlist, and if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Additional A/N: This was originally intended for Olicity Clue, but I’m super late on that now. My prompts were Felicity’s glasses, Queen Consolidated, and Isabel Rochev. This is partially written for a Fic For Food Drive I’m taking part in (please check out the details here, and consider donating!), and I say partially because I intend on writing something else in this series for a generous donor.

(read on AO3)

10:06 p.m. Queen & Queen

“There you are. Of course you’re in the last box I check.”

Felicity fished out the honey, destroying her beautiful packing job in the process. Her stapler fell over and the Doctor Who mug she used for her pens and pencils tipped precariously against the tray filled with projects she wanted to finish. Projects you should probably delegate since you, you know, have people to delegate to now. Felicity made a face. Yes, fine, it was a logical idea, but they were hers, damn it. It was her blood and sweat that had made them, and she wanted to finish them the way only she knew how.

Not very boss-like of you.

“Learning curve,” she grumbled. She pulled the bottle out with a triumphant, “Ha!”

Silver caught her eye and she inched her door open to see the letters fully.

Felicity M. Smoak Director of Information Technologies

With a smile, Felicity brushed her fingers over her new title like she had, oh, twenty thousand times over the last two weeks. Her name, on her door, on her corner office - her huge corner office with glass walls that turn opaque when you click a switch, and a bathroom, and a couch… Everything was looking up. She was settling into her promotion, she was getting dinner with Caitlin and Barry this weekend, she had been given leeway to hire more techs to go along with being given the reigns for setting up the system at the new Queen Consolidated…

Everything was good.

Her computer dinged.

The smile evaporated as she spun to her desk.

“No.” Felicity hurried over to her computer. The thick area rug she’d bought first thing muffled the smack of her bare feet until she hit the marble floor again. “You’re not supposed to find anything, what are you finding?”

She landed in her chair with a plop so hard it sent her chair - an ergonomic monstrosity that still reeked of plastic from being packed away - rolling. She grabbed her desk to stop from crashing into the credenza behind her. The honey bottle got in the way and she tossed it away, sending it rolling into her still-steaming mug. Tea sloshed over the sides, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were too busy bouncing between the three screens before her, looking for what had made that very specific noise that had all the hair on the back of her neck rising.

Foreign code was in the system.

In her system.

“Frak,” Felicity breathed, attacking her keyboard. “Frak.”

A few keystrokes later, the alien code popped up on the middle screen, and she was ready to launch into a full-on attack…

Felicity frowned.

It was her code.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

It had her framework, her technique, but it was nothing like what she used here, at all. And nothing she had used, considering it was missing her signature. Which meant someone else had used her code on her servers. And simplistic as it was, it was still hers and very capable of doing damage. Which it had, she discovered with a curse, as she dug deeper, tripping over holes where files had once been. Not that it was hard - everything this person had touched was a flashing red hot mess that she would have eventually found anyway because they hadn’t even tried to cover their tracks.

So it was stolen and sloppy.

“Oh. Hell. No. You steal from me, and then you use it on my servers, and you don’t even try to pretend you didn’t? Do you even know who you’re messing with? Ooh no, no, no…”

It took all of twenty-three seconds to follow the trail.

She expected it to be from outside the building, to lead back to some whippersnapper who didn’t know who she was, and who was about to learn that when you mess with her company, you’re messing with her…

But it didn’t.

It led to a terminal right here in the building: QQ112.

Her chest hollowed, buzzing filling her ears, scorching heat numbing her fingers.

It was impossible to remember who was assigned to every computer at Queen & Queen. A handful stuck in her mind from her technician days. The attorneys who barely knew how to open their email. The users who lacked any common sense when it came to downloading any old thing they found on the internet. Those who thought they hid their browsing history on the extremely not-safe-for-work side of Reddit, and those who didn’t even bother. The ones who insisted on fixing problems themselves and always wound up making it worse.

And Oliver Queen’s computer.

She fought to breathe as she stared at the letter and number sequence. She waited for it to change, to become something else, attached to someone else, to not be this. But nothing happened.

Except something had happened, hadn’t it?

Ice scored her insides.

She had shown him that code months ago, before anything had happened between them, back when she thought he might have been a friend. She had shown it to him as a courtesy, to teach, to spread the knowledge and maybe make Queen & Queen better by association. Not to use it against his own firm’s servers. Not to use her code on Q&Q’s servers. If someone who knew half of anything happened to be in there, they would be able to spot it.

They would be able to trace it back to her.

“Son of a bitch.”

Rage tore into her gut.

“What did you do?” Felicity growled. She went after the code with a fervor that had her keyboard scooting over the desk with every furious keystroke. Her eyes darted across her screens as she used everything she could think of to find out exactly what he had been doing. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away rapidly with a harsh curse. No. He didn’t deserve her tears. He didn’t deserve anything. She forced herself to breathe through a growing pressure in her chest, but all she could manage were short, sporadic breaths as she murmured, “You bastard. You stupid, stupid bastard…”

He had used the code two times. Both in January.

Felicity’s fingers faltered.

She hadn’t found out about her promotion until February.

The word sabotage seared her mind.

Is that what this was? They were co-directors now, more or less. They shared the department instead of her answering to him. She had taken his old position as Director of IT and a new one had been created for him - Director of Production. She had no idea what happened behind closed doors, but she’d wondered if everything she had done here - all that Oliver had taken credit for - had finally seen the light of day.

Or was this something else? Was it about Isabel, about the holiday party, about the horrible night that had followed here before she started separating herself from him and the debauched things they had done the last few months?

Fire ripped through her and more goddamn tears burned the back of her throat.

Isabel was gone and things hadn’t gone back to the way they were before.

Did he think they would?

Felicity fought to keep her hands from shaking - with anger, she told herself.

Things would never go back to the way they were. Because she didn’t want them to. Because she didn’t want him. She didn’t like waking up looking for him, missing his touch, or that there was an emptiness she couldn’t explain inside her. She hated that she felt anything at all. She hated what they had done. She hated who she was with him. She didn’t want whatever had been between them. And things were good now, she was happy, she was-

There.

He had deleted…

Emails?

Felicity leaned closer to the middle screen, as if she could make sense of the data fragments, but they were too broken still.

The only good thing about him using her code was she was able to deconstruct it quickly. Her code was effective, but it was simple, and it had nothing against the algos she threw at it to put them back together. If it had been someone else’s, it might have taken longer. But it was hers and she had a backup on top of her backups, and it was just a matter of time before she would see what he had destroyed…

All too soon bits and pieces of correspondence appeared. Broken email chains without senders or recipients, or dates or times, the words appearing in splintered sentences that had just enough for her to try and make sense of them.

It’s being split. I brought this up last month anyway,

It’s hers

Call me when you’re out

What do you want

Are you positive?

It can go out next week if you want

CONFIDENTIAL

We had an agreement. This is what you’ve been working towards. Are you sure?

Do you have any idea what you’re doing?

I found them

Let me know and we will get this in motion

I don’t think that’s a good idea

We have a deal

Call me.

yes

It’s best for everyone to get Felicity out

“Get Felicity out of what?” she demanded.

She tried to beef up the program to make it work faster, but there was too much information to cull through to find what was missing from the servers. Felicity huffed, even though she knew it was going as fast as it could within its limits. But waiting for every piece to appear, in the right order? She cursed under her breath. Her leg bounced in time with the speed of her thoughts, nearly matching the agitated beat of her heart. Pinpricks of heat danced over her cheeks, burning. It wasn’t until a lance of pain sliced through her jaw that she realized she had been chewing on the edge of her lip enough to tear a piece of skin.

“Ow,” she hissed, grimacing when her tongue touched the tiny wound. The taste of copper flooded her mouth.

Email addresses.

“Oh,” she blurted.

She could narrow the search to see who was involved. She hammered at the keyboard, changing the directives, switching priority to email addresses, and to order them by the amount of emails they appeared in.

A list immediately began populating.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

The floor fell out from under her.

Felicity stared at the last one, waiting for it to pop up and explain itself, but it didn’t. Instead a boulder crushed her chest and the back of her neck burned as ice showered her insides.

“I thought I’d find you up here, Oliver.”

“I see old habits die hard.”

“I like your shoes.”

“Isabel knows.”

The list continued.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

“What?” she breathed at the last one, but before she could even begin to put any of it together, the program started bringing up the corresponding emails. Her email address was attached to only one, and the subject simply read:

Please see the attached.

It wasn’t done loading, but she didn’t wait, opening it anyway. There was nothing in the body of the email. It was just the attachment, addressed to her…

And Oliver.

The attachment was a video.

From Isabel.

“Oh god,” she choked out, her stomach twisting. Her hands shook so hard the keyboard rattled and she snatched them back, digging her nails into her palms. She stared at the email, dread coating her insides like tar.

She told herself it was because it was still loading that she didn’t immediately hit play, but even when it finished - even when the other emails finished coming together - she didn’t touch it.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she finally opened the video.

All she saw were black and white flickers and pixelated snippets. The cursor along the bottom told her it was playing, but nothing showed up, and for a blissful second she let herself believe it was nothing.

Then an image appeared.

An agonized moan fell from deep in her chest.

It was her and Oliver, in an elevator. He had her pinned to one of the walls, his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, making a mess of it, the other migrating down her neck, then her chest. She didn’t have to watch to remember the feel of his fingers slipping inside the band of her skirt and yanking her blouse out where it was tucked, so hard it tore one of her buttons. She had one of her legs up as much as her skirt would allow and wrapped around his, so damn eager that she hadn’t cared in the slightest where they were.

Isabel had this.

Her stomach pitched until she thought she was going to be sick.

In a twisted haze, Felicity watched her own hands claw down his back, raking over Oliver’s suit jacket where it strained against the width of his shoulders. She dug her nail into his neck. Her eyes half-closed, her mouth slack in pleasure, so obviously flushed despite the grey wash of the video. She remembered waking up with hickeys and bite marks all over her neck and chest. She had been so mad, she numbly recalled. But not while it was happening. Never while it was happening.

The Plaza, she remembered. They had used the suite the firm kept there for high-end clients.

“They never check the records, Smoak. They don’t want to know.”

The video abruptly switched, and it showed her walking backwards with Oliver following her down the hallway, towards the Premier Suite.

It occurred to Felicity in that second that it wasn’t showing his face.

There was no way there wasn’t video somewhere of him - entering the elevator, at the very least, because someone else had been on there when they’d first gotten on. Oliver had been standing next to her, only attacking her when the person got off a floor later. But the way the video played, if someone didn’t know, it looked like Felicity was taking some random person up to the suite.

His back was still to the camera as they reached the door. She had the key card, having taken it from him earlier, and she slipped it into the lock. She twisted the handle before turning to enter the room backwards. The soft lights overhead reflected on her glasses as she grabbed Oiver’s tie and yanked him in with her.

A blip of static overtook the screen and then it showed her slipping out of the room some time later, head bowed, her hair up in a chaotic ponytail, her clothes askew, her heels in-hand as she hurried to the elevator.

Alone.

It was all her.

The numbness cracked, just enough to take a breath, to frown, to think.

Felicity switched back to the email from Isabel. Short. Simple. To the point. To both her and Oliver.

So why…?

But if someone knew it was Oliver with her, that they were using the suite under his name, under the firm’s name, then there wouldn’t be much reproach, would there? Because regardless of his status within the firm, he was still a Queen. A hand-slapping, perhaps, and she would surely get reprimanded in some way.

Just her, though? Seemingly taking advantage of the firm like this?

But then why had she gotten the promotion she’d been angling for since long before Oliver swooped in and stole it out from under her last year?

She shook her head. None of it made sense.

Heart fluttering so fast it hurt, Felicity flipped through the other emails. There were so many of them, a couple dozen easily, most of them formalities, simple back and forths, nothing substantive. The ones between Oliver and his father were the most confusing, both of them talking in shorthand about a plan, something Oliver had been working towards, their conversations talking around something they both obviously knew and didn’t need to explain.

She stopped when she saw an email from [email protected] to [email protected].

No subject, no body, not even a signature.

Just an attachment.

A draft announcement naming Isabel Rochev as CEO of the newly formed Queen Consolidated.

Release date: March 1.

Felicity stared at the mockup uncomprehendingly. She read the words over and over until they blurred. She noted the empty spot where Isabel’s picture would go. She stared at the question mark after the date in parentheses. She tried to think, to understand what she was seeing, what she had seen. What had happened. How it had happened… and all without her ever knowing. It was blackmail, plain as day. Isabel had the perfect leverage in her possession.

And she had used it to get what she wanted.

“Oh my god,” Felicity blurted. “What did you do? What did you do?”

She grabbed her phone with trembling hands, swiping it open, going straight to her phone app. Muscle memory dialed the number she could never forget, but when his name appeared because her phone recognized it, her heart spasmed and she almost hit the END button.

A soft trill echoed from down the hallway.

Felicity’s head jerked up, her breath catching.

Another trill, so faint she barely heard it.

But she did.

Her phone hit her desk with a thud, but she didn’t hear it, already up and out the door. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she followed the ringing past darkened offices, a copy room, the shadowed kitchen, to the opposite corner of the floor.

To his office.

The trill abruptly stopped followed by a harsh, “What?”

She heard it from the open door that came into view when she turned the corner.

A nervous wash of adrenaline crashed through her veins, especially when a softer, “Felicity?” followed. The closer she got, the more her limbs felt like they were going to shatter, each step shakier than the last. “Felicity?”

She heard him so clearly her mouth went dry.

Felicity stopped when she reached his door.

Oliver stood by his sitting area, just like the one she had, his office a mirror version of hers. He had a sheaf of paper in one hand, his phone in the other, a dark glower on his face as he glared at the little coffee table before him.

Her chest squeezed tight.

It had been so long since she’d been in here - so long since she’d seen him, period. He seemed bigger, yet somehow he took up less space. His muscles were bulkier, but his waist was leaner. His face had a gauntness that hadn’t been there before, his jaw sharp and angular. His tie was off, the first buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up in messy bunches, his hair askew from running his hands through it. Dark circles underlined his eyes and in place of his signature scruff was the beginning of an unkempt beard.

She had deliberately not sought him out. She didn’t look for him. She barely offered him a glance when they had to interact outside of telephone calls or emails.

He looked like hell.

She stepped inside.

“Are you…?” he started before he saw her.

Oliver’s words died off, surprise widening his eyes. Then he frowned, and the closer she got, the deeper the furrow between his brow went.

“Felicity?” he said, his voice low, rough. “What’s wrong-”

She grabbed his face with both hands as she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him.

He froze. She barely noticed under the press of his lips to hers again. They were dry, chapped, but still so soft, just like she remembered.

Felicity whimpered and grasped him tighter, pressing closer, kissing him harder. The little wound she’d given herself a few minutes ago burned under the pressure, but the pain only edged the heady sensation of his mouth against hers again. God, she had missed it, she had missed him, more than she wanted to admit. But it was impossible to deny right now, when it had been months, when the last time she had kissed him had been in anger, her only intent to hurt and maim, to inflict the pain she’d felt. There was none of that now. This was different.

He stood stock still. He didn’t even breathe, stiff and unrelenting, implacable.

Until he wasn’t.

Oliver melted into her.

She gasped at the abrupt surrender, the sound morphing into a strung out cry as he kissed her back. He dropped the papers and his phone, both landing with a thud, the papers hitting her naked toes, but she barely felt it. He wound his arms around her and yanked her off her feet.

It had been so long.

Too long.

Felicity opened her mouth at the same time he did, their tongues meeting halfway. She groaned at the first taste, eclipsing his breathy whine. He clutched her hard as he bowed forward, chasing the kiss with vigor, his tongue spearing into her mouth. Her knees buckled, her feet hitting the ground in an uncoordinated mess, and it was only because of his hold that she didn’t fall. But then she pushed off the floor, shoving back against him, kissing him with equal ardor. Teeth collided, lips yanking, pulling, sucking, tongues exploring and tasting and tangling. Despite how they chased each other, he still eclipsed her, surrounding her, swallowing her up. She whimpered at the overwhelming sensation and he drank it all in as his hands roamed all over her, before falling to her ass. He gripped her so hard she broke away with a cry.

He didn’t let her get far, though, and she didn’t want him to.

Not anymore.

Oliver captured her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip, groaning when she nipped at him.

The back of her legs collided with something hard before she even realized they were moving. The coffee table. The heavy, low-sitting furniture scooted across the floor, but they just followed it. Oliver urged her down with hard hands. Felicity clawed into his shoulders, unwilling to release his lips, forcing him to follow her as she laid back on the table. It was awkward and uneven, but neither of them cared, or bothered to fix it, because it meant stopping, and that couldn’t happen. Oliver loomed over her, gripping the edges of the table, his muscles rippling to keep from crushing her as he ravaged her mouth with a thoroughness that left her head spinning.

But then all too soon, he was wrenching away.

With a ragged gasp of air and fogged glasses, Felicity arched up to follow him - don’t go, don’t stop, don’t - but he just fell to his knees before her. She tried to spread her legs to wrap around him, needing to feel him pressed against her as much as possible, but her skirt was too tight. She frantically yanked it up as his hands flew to his belt and pants.

Heavy breathing and the rustle of clothes were the only sounds for a moment.

Pants half-hanging open, Oliver grappled for his wallet. He ripped it out of his pocket and dug out a square package. He tossed the leather away as Felicity pushed her panties down, pulling her legs up enough to yank them down one leg, leaving them hanging off her foot as she spread for him.

Oliver’s eyes dropped to her sex. Mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, lids heavy, he stared at her as he rolled the condom down his length, his pupils eclipsing the stormy blue as he drank her in.

A shiver shot down her spine.

She missed this, missed how he looked at her, half-drunk with need that matched her own.

“Please,” she begged, grasping the edges of the table and scooting closer to him. “Oliver.”

He grabbed her hips, yanking her until her ass hung off the edge. The swollen head of his cock rubbed up her cleft, and then back down, nudging her entrance.

“Yes-”

Oliver thrust in, hard and fast.

Felicity shouted at the intrusion. Her back bowed, her eyes squeezing shut as he filled her to the brim. The pressure was incredible, his girth stretching her nearly to the point of pain. She felt him in every inch of her body and it stole the air right out of her lungs.

“Shit,” Oliver gasped, his hands grabbing her waist as he pulled back out. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Felicity pleaded. “Don’t-”

She found his hips and yanked him inside her once more. She hissed when he stretched her so wide it was all she could to keep breathing. But she did, and she angled her hips to take him in even deeper. She hadn’t realized how much she had shut down, shut him out, not even entertaining the option, to the point she wasn’t ready for him like she would have been before. But she would be, again. She knew if they kept moving, her body would catch up. It would.

Her name fell off his lips in a choked moan as his fingers dug into her ribs.

To stop her. To pull out. To leave her.

Felicity shook her head wildly.

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she babbled breathlessly, but her voice breaking betrayed her. She arched up to keep him inside her. “It’s just… been a while, I’m… I’m okay, I’m not… I can’t… Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop-”

She was begging him.

The anguish in her voice sliced her heart to ribbons. She felt ready to burst into a thousand pieces, for a thousand different reasons, and absolutely none of them made sense. She had prided herself on keeping her distance, on being stronger than whatever was between them, on being able to walk away.

But now all of that was gone in the blink of an eye, just gone, as if it had never been there.

The realization tore through her and Felicity fell back against the table with a broken cry.

All of it had been a lie. She was a lie. Everything she told herself she felt was a lie.

Another sob threatened to escape, but she bit it back. Because the only thing that mattered in this moment was staying here. With him. She needed to be here - with him - and she couldn’t think about it, about what it meant. She could only feel.

She only wanted to feel.

“Please,” Felicity breathed, arching up again, her legs winding around him, her nails scrabbling under his shirt. “Don’t stop. Please-”

“I’m not,” Oliver whispered in a rush, falling over her. It changed the angle of his hardness inside her and she whimpered as he cupped her face on a ragged, “I’m not stopping. Ever,” before his lips found hers in a burning kiss.

It matched her desperation so perfectly that tears burned her eyes. It shouldn’t soothe her, and she knew that. But it did, and it felt so good, so right, to be here, to be back with him. But it was more than that. It grounded her, in a way she couldn’t do herself. She mewled, opening for him, winding her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her until they were both gasping for air, and then he kissed her even more, deeper, harder.

He invaded her in every way possible.

More.

Felicity twisted his shirt, twisting it, yanking. She slid one hand under the collar, and then his undershirt. His skin was blisteringly hot against her palm, and she moaned, kissing him harder as she dug her nails into his muscles. His hips jerked into hers, and this time they both moaned when he slid in a little easier, sending tiny bolts of pleasure through her.

“Off,” she mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “Off.”

He didn’t bother with the buttons, ripping his dress shirt off along with his undershirt. Buttons went scattering, but Felicity barely heard them pinging, or felt the ones that hit her as she yanked her own shirt off.

Her breath caught at the sight he made. His abs stood out in stark relief, too stark, the lines of his body harsh and rigid, a wall of pure muscle. He had always been well-defined, but this was extreme. Felicity flattened her hands to his stomach and smoothed them. She was transfixed by the feel of his hot, silky skin over such hardness, her fingers ghosting over his taut nipples, his rock-hard pecs…

“C’mere,” Oliver grunted, hooking his fingers in the front of her bra and yanking her up.

The lace tore across her skin and she yelped as she crashed into his chest. The pain only fueled her need as the new angle had him shifting inside her again, gasoline on a fire, turning a simmer into an inferno.

Felicity’s teeth found his collarbone.

He cried out, grabbing the back of her neck. He crowded her closer as she worked her way up his neck, savoring his salty taste, sucking and nipping, leaving little marks that would be there for days.

“Fuck… Felicity…”

She’d never heard her name so many times from him like this. She was always Smoak. But not right now, and the knowledge that he was just as undone as she was had her licking and sucking harder, wanting to hear more of it. He gave it to her, a raspy plea as he turned his face into her hair, his breathing hot and damp, his fingers digging into her neck as she marked him, up his throat, his jaw…

On a groan, Oliver captured her lips with his as he inched his hips forward.

He filled her up, so much more smoothly, so good, so perfectly. Burning need arched through her, the pressure changing, her slickening inner walls clamping down on him. Oliver swallowed down her cries, matching them with his own as he pulled out a bit to thrust back in. He rubbed against her with each thrust, his pubic bone hitting her clit, sending little bursts of pleasure sparking through her. She keened, clinging to him, and he did it again, and again, slow and steady, making sure she was ready for him.

“Yes,” she whimpered, grabbing his face, kissing them both breathless. “Yes.”

His fingers found the clasp of her bra. He undid it quickly and pushed her back down to the table.

The cold tabletop was a shock, but then Oliver was pulling her bra off, tossing it away…

And then all she felt was the burn of his gaze, and then his hands as he grasped her waist.

His hips slowed as he stared at her with unfathomable eyes, so dark, so intense. It was almost like he couldn’t get enough of what he saw. Captivated. Transfixed. His gaze danced all over her, up her chest, her neck, her mouth, then back down to her breasts, her abdomen.

“Felicity…”

He dragged her name out, tasting every single syllable. Did he know what he was saying? He couldn’t, she thought, not with how he looked at her, or how he touched her. There was a reverence that hadn’t been there before.

Felicity’s heart skipped, her mouth going dry, her stomach fluttering.

She had missed him, so much, and not just his body. But that was the confusing part. They didn’t have a relationship. They didn’t have anything.

And yet… the way he looked at her… how he made her feel…

“Felicity…”

She shivered, and fought to breathe, but then he was touching her. Oliver smoothed his hands up her waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts before slipping back down, one hand cupping her ribs, the other spanning the width of her stomach…

So soft.

So gentle.

Felicity shuddered, goosebumps erupting over her skin. They sent another shiver ripping down her spine, and another. The goosebumps spread everywhere, her chest, her stomach, her breasts, peaking her nipples into hard little beads that ached.

It was nothing compared to the way he stared at her.

It was too much.

“Oliver,” Felicity choked.

His dark gaze flew to hers and her heart clenched at the look in them.

Too much.

She grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts, cupping herself with his fingers. Lust slackened his face and he took over, squeezing them before raking his thumbs over her nipples. Pleasure spiked through her and she moaned, loudly, and he did it again.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding, closing her eyes as she arched her back, rocking her hips. “Please. I need you-”

On a harsh growl, Oliver squeezed her breasts, so hard and fast it took her breath away. Using his grasp on her to keep her still, he thrust into her, burying himself as deep as he could. Her hands scrambled up his arms for something to hold onto as he gripped her breasts, relentless and unforgiving, and thrust into her again. Again. Again.

“Oh… god!” she cried. “Oh… oh god…!”

Oliver fell on top of her, pinning her to the table, spreading her legs impossibly wide.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth finding hers in a messy kiss.

She struggled to respond, but his demanding lips stole her ability to do anything. He ripped away only to shove his hands up into her hair. He destroyed her ponytail, pulling on the long strands until enough was free so he could make tight fists. Oliver braced himself over her and used his new leverage to pull out nearly all the way before thrusting home, so hard the table shook. Felicity shouted, grabbing his sides for something to hold onto. She was completely at his mercy and it had a rush of arousal sweeping through her, her juices flooding her sex, a desperate ache for him to fuck her sensenless razing her from the inside out. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounded, heat swamped her veins, a mind-numbing pressure deep in her core coiling tighter as Oliver thrust into her so hard the table slid across the floor.

“Say it.”

“I need you,” Felicity gasped. He groaned at the words. “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

They moved together, finding a rhythm to his pleading, “Again,” and her breathless, “I need you,” echoed by the sounds of their harsh pants for air and her wet sex taking in every inch of him over and over until they both dissolved into mindless cries.

The orgasm hit her in a tidal wave, bowling her over, eclipsing everything. White sheeted over her eyes, a series of short, startled cries flying from her as she fell to pieces.

Oliver’s grip on her tightened so much she whimpered as he started thrusting with abandon. Hard, harder, each collision sending her higher, dragging her pleasure out until she didn’t know where he began and she ended. His forehead landed on hers, skin slick, his breaths hot and ragged against her mouth. Felicity grabbed hold of him, cradling him, nonsensical words falling from her as he plowed into her, erratic and frantic, chasing his pleasure.

He jerked, his back bowing, his pistoning hips stuttering.

With a strangled, “Felicity,” on his lips, he came.

Oliver collapsed on top of her, burying his face into her throat, her skin muffling his desperate noises. He didn’t stop, his hips rocking into her as he rode out his orgasm, her inner walls milking every last bit out of him, his cock twitching deep inside her with each burst.

It was a long moment before he finally slowed, and then fell still.

Buzzing filled her head.

Pleasure. Satisfaction. Shock. Confusion.

She wanted him to move. But she didn’t. She wanted to want to. She wanted to get off this uncomfortable table, to get his bulk off her where he crushed her, but at the same time, she didn’t. She didn’t want to move. Ever.

Oliver made the decision for her.

He slowly pushed up. He slipped out of her, trying to quiet his groan when he left her wet heat. Felicity bit her lip so hard it nearly tore the skin as her sex clenched at the sudden emptiness. And then he was off of her, pushing to his feet. He grabbed his pants, yanking them back up as he turned away from her.

He didn’t look at her once.

Felicity sat up, grimacing at the throb blossoming between her thighs. She stood up gingerly, her hands shaking as she pushed her skirt back down. The silence was deafening. He moved to his desk, peeling the condom off as he went before tying it off and tossing it. The cool office air stung her sweaty skin and she crossed her arms over her breasts, looking around for her blouse.

She spotted it in a crumpled heap next to his tangled shirts.

It smelled like him when she slipped it over her head.

“Were you supposed to be the CEO of Queen Consolidated?”

Silence.

Felicity looked at him where he stood by his desk, his hands frozen where he’d been re-buttoning his pants. The slacks were tight across his backside, stretched over his thighs in a way that they hadn’t been before. His back was covered in red marks where she’d raked her nails over him, making the well-defined muscles in his back stand out in harsher relief when he finished fastening the buttons. His belt was next.

That was it.

“You were, weren’t you?” she asked. The full weight of that hit her and Felicity’s ribs closed in around her, making her gasp. “You were leaving Q&Q. But now you’re not. Because of Isabel. Because of…”

Us.

He turned his head slightly, but that was it.

“How did she know?” she asked. She caught the edge of his forehead creasing in a frown. “About the Plaza. That we were there that one night…” He finally turned, his brow creased in muted surprise, and she huffed. “C’mon, Oliver, give me a little more credit than that. This is my system, remember? I know when something’s wrong. Or… missing. I saw the video. And the emails. And the announcement about her, that you sent. Like it was… gift-wrapped. Because she had something that she couldn’t have possibly known about, didn’t she? But the odds of her picking that one night…”

He didn’t answer her. He just turned to his desk.

“Oliver-”

He opened one of the bottom drawers and pulled out…

“My glasses?” Felicity frowned when she recognized the frames. She absently reached up to touch the replacement pair she currently wore. “I thought I lost those.”

“A couple weeks ago…” Oliver said in a low voice, not making a move to hand them to her. He tilted them back and forth in his fingers, the move so easy and familiar, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He stared at them as he spoke. “Isabel walked into my office and handed these to me. I told her they could be anybody’s, but then she showed me the security tape.”

Felicity’s heart sank. “Oh god…”

“I told her to go to hell,” he continued, still watching the glasses. He huffed. “She must not have liked that very much because then she sent the video to both of us. Except this time it was focused on you. She said she wanted you gone, and that if we didn’t do anything about it, she would take the video to the Board, since you not only work here, but are slated to be so involved with getting Queen Consolidated set up.”

Felicity closed her eyes.

This was her fault. It wasn’t them, together, specifically. It was her. She remembered wanting to escape that room the next morning more than anything, before Oliver woke up, before she had to face what they had done. Again.

“It was a game to her,” he said and she opened her eyes to see his locked on her. “She wanted to see what we would do when she pushed us into a corner. If it was just me, or if it was both of us, I could have at least… But it was you, and I knew I couldn’t do anything without risking her releasing that tape, so I gave her something she couldn’t resist.”

“Queen Consolidated.”

“Queen Consolidated,” he echoed. The broken way his lips lifted in a half-smile, an attempt to hide the depth of what he had given up, cracked her open. “It didn’t matter, though. Whatever we had, it had nothing to do with your job. You’re the best asset this firm has and I wasn’t going to let you pay the price for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Felicity could only stand there, staring at him, too overwhelmed to comprehend any of it.

So she focused on the one thing she could fix.

“She still has the video.”

Oliver pursed his lips on a slow nod. “Yeah.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing they tapped me to set up Queen Consolidated, isn’t it?” She gave him a tight smile before lifting her hands to wiggle her fingers at him. “I’ll get it. Somehow. Once I’m in, I’m kind of hard to escape.”

Something flickered over his face, but it was so tiny, nearly indiscernible, that she wondered if she saw it. Then she remembered how he’d looked at her a moment ago and her heart faltered.

He dropped his eyes back to the glasses.

“Here.” Oliver cleared his throat as he stepped towards her and held them out to her.

Felicity slowly took them. “Thank you.”

All he had was a tight nod and a bland attempt at a smile before he turned away.

She grabbed his arm. “Oliver, wait-”

He looked back, his brow twisted in what she could only read as concern, but she barely gave herself time to discern it.

The second he faced her, she pushed up onto her toes again and kissed him.

It was soft, chaste, her lips capturing his with an ease that settled something deep inside her.

“Come home with me,” she whispered against his lips.

He hesitated and her chest caved in.

“Please.”

An eternity passed, their breaths mingling, noses brushing, but that was it.

She pressed her lips together before biting her bottom lip, the urge to ask him again - to beg - overwhelming her, nearly taking over.

Please.

Oliver pulled back and she barely bit back a whimper. He was going to say no. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the look he gave her, to face what she was asking him, after she had slammed the door in his face. Felicity bit her lip harder, fighting to keep more words from falling out…

He cupped her jaw.

Felicity’s eyes flew open as his thumb tugged her lip away from her teeth with a whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The word was out before she could think, and the second it was, his mouth was on hers. With a sigh, she fell into him as Oliver wound his arms around her, pulling her into him. They opened for each other, and she whimpered when he took a deeper taste, re-sealing the unspoken bond between them.

“Yes.”

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

On a final note, I want to thank everyone who has engaged with me about this story. I appreciate every single comment and tweet and DM and ask. I know the way I'm writing them in this 'verse is very challenging, and demanding, and it's not an easy read. But it shouldn't be, because I don't want it to be. I don't want my readers comfortable during certain parts of this story, because I'm not comfortable. I'm pushing a lot of boundaries with this story. This is my most difficult undertaking to date, and I question myself at every turn in this process. All the more reason I truly appreciate those who continue to read, who reach out, who share their thoughts with me. I'm learning a lot about myself as I go on, and I thank you for being on this journey with me!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #fanfiction #olicity au #of law firms and honey #four walls #my fics #my fics: au

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beanabouttown · 7 years

Note

do you have any super fluffy flinthamilton fic recs? its one of /those/ days

do i EVER (yes, yes i do)

super fuffy fic rec list down below! (since you said flinthamilton i have only included james/thomas fic, but let me know if you want some fluffy flinthamiltons fic and i can direct you towards some good stuff!)

Like a ghost. by LittleHouseMouse

It’s the first morning on the plantation after the reunion and Thomas Hamilton is awoken by a sound.

it’s short but sweet and im always here for fic about the first time james and thomas wake up together after the reunion

I Want To Take Care Of You by Magnetism_bind

James is ill and Thomas just wants to look after him.

post-reunion fluff! flashback to london-era fluff! this fic just makes me happy, and it’s got thomas reading to james, which is always a good thing

Moments by TheAssassinsGhost

“'I can’t believe the days turned into years. I hate to see the moments disappear…‘”

15,743 words, 4 chapters, one of my all-time favourites! various snap-shots into james and thomas’ life after leaving the plantation

Reorienting by Palebluedot

“Thomas grabs ahold of his holy apparition with both hands and keeps him there, draws him nearer. Let them hold each other until they both bruise, he thinks fiercely, for tenderness needn’t always step light. Love owes them kind wounds.”

this fucking fic - it’s one of those ‘oh god this is the best fic i’ve read in weeks’ fics. im going to rec a lot of audrey’s fics and they are all as good as this one

Too Fondly to be Fearful by Palebluedot

“A hint of youthful mischief blooms in Thomas’s crow’s-feet as he brushes their toes together beneath the bedcovers.

“Fancy a moment’s fresh air?”James grins.

Outside, the scent of the roses hangs heavy as perfume, mixes sweet with every breath of cool night breeze. Thomas settles next to him on the step, barefoot and smiling, his arm warm around James’s waist.”

james and thomas stargazing in the middle of the night, post-reunion. it’s fucking beautiful and i love it so much

Things That Grow by Palebluedot

“Weeding, pruning, watering – though the tasks seem never-ending, it’s pleasant, welcome labor, working at a gentle pace, James’s voice as constant as the sun on his back, the sweetness of the roses he tends.

~+~+~+~+~

Something of a companion piece to “Too Fondly to be Fearful,” but can easily be read separately.”

james reading to thomas! happy post-reunion fluff!

Pathos and Logos by Palebluedot

He should have been on his way ten lost minutes ago. With a sigh, with a parting kiss to the corner of Thomas’s mouth, James at last rises, and the sheets wind tight around his legs. The mattress dips behind him just as his feet brush the floor, and unseen fingers loosely encircle his wrist, keep him perched on the edge of the bed just long enough for a clinging shadow to press against his back, hold him fast about the waist.

“Stay a moment longer,” comes the sweet whisper in his ear.

happy London-era fluff - thomas trying to stop james leaving the bed. the first day this fic was posted i read it something like ten times

Tactile by Palebluedot

“When Thomas opens his eyes, they stare and stare and seem to shine. “I wondered often how this might look,” he murmurs, pushing an errant lock behind James’s ear, fingers tracing over the shell. He looks down at James, adoration writ plain across his face, warm as the candlelight, and this is all still so strange to James, so new.

~+~+~+~

Inspired by bean-about-townn’s post: “Imagine the first time Thomas sees James’ hair out of its ribbon” and a related conversation with blanketed_in_stars.”

okay basically i should just say at this point that audrey (@brightbluedot) is the queen of fluff

Homecoming by Palebluedot

“That smile grows, and Thomas shall never find the strength to disentangle himself now, so he holds on all the tighter – three months, three months stranded with only the memory of James’s face, God only knows how he survived. But no matter. Now that he’s home, Thomas intends nothing less than to reclaim each and every intimacy the sea stole from them.”

look. if you just ignore the fact that thomas is taken away to bethlem right after this, it’s the fluffiest fic you are ever going to read in your life.

…but if you read it with that in mind, then it will break your heart. so be warned!

Something Old by Palebluedot

““Do you remember the first time I brought you home for Christmas?”

“The only time, you mean.”

Thomas grins, eyes sparkling with a fondness James doesn’t recall that battlefield of a holiday deserving. “Fifteen years later, that’s still one of my favorite memories of you.””

modern au fluff after james and thomas get married!

Eye of the Beholder by Palebluedot

“Open your eyes for me, love,” Thomas reminds him, voice husky, and when he does, the first thing he sees is Thomas’s reflected grin, hungry as the gaze that caresses every inch of skin from James’s parted, panting lips down to his flushed and leaking cock. “Just look at you,” he sighs in James’s ear before he trails imprecise, open-mouthed kisses back down to James’s throat.

~~~

alternatively, that time bean was like “so what if they fucked in front of a mirror” and I was like “shit what if they DID”

i still maintain that this 100% happened at least once. (porn. really, really amazingly written porn. and so very fluffy)

A Stranger at his Door by theflowercrownedking

“Silver comes looking for Flint. Thomas answers the door.”

not one for fans of silver, and i fucking love it. thomas is clever, thomas isn’t expected to forgive silver for selling james into slavery and leaving them both in the plantation, and it ends with james and thomas snuggled up together in bed. what’s not to love? (i saw this fic just when i went to go through my bookmarks on ao3 to make this list, and im gonna be honest with you anon, i read it twice through before i could get back to putting together these recs)

Keeping him Safe by theflowercrownedking

“In which James manages to keep his werewolf nature a secret, right up until the moment he has a nightmare and shifts in Thomas’ arms.”

i mean there’s some angst when it changes to james’ pov, but thomas, as always, is a ray of sunshine who illuminates james’ tragic life and it’s beautiful

The Throes of Fever by theflowercrownedking

“In which James is feverishly sick, and convinced Thomas is an angel sent to care for him.”

…i went to try and find a quote to put here to show how wonderful this fic is, but. it was all so good i couldn’t pick a single thing, which means you will just have to take my word for it!

Cache of Gems: Tumblr Ficlets by AstronautSquid

“An ongoing collection of the occasional short scenes I write for tumblr.

Varying ratings, check the chapter title!”

second chapter is brilliant porn, but the first chapter is fluff and i love it so much - and only partly bc it’s a little bit my fault

i am absolutely happy to read fic of James just staring at the back of Thomas’ head for an hour. who isn’t??

kinky nsfw ficlet 1 by @complaininginthedark

Anonymous asked: for the kink thing - cockwarming, if youre into it? your writing is amazing btw

aaahhhhh thank you so much!!!! I’ve already played with the idea of cock warming for these two simply because I think James is a little touch starved most of the time and is easily overwhelmed and needs grounding a lot. So here is my take on it.

it’s so very fluffy and i love it

“I’ll keep you safe” by @complaininginthedark

bean-about-townn asked: ooh, 66 (“I’ll keep you safe”) for flinthamilton, which would. also be great for aftercare after the reunion (sorry im obsessed with the concept now. ur last fic was too good i can’t stop thinking about it)

aaaaaaaaah i prompted this and it’s still one of my favourite bits of writing in the fandom

Vulnerable by khazadspoon

James needed to feel the sharp sting of his hand, the bite of his teeth, the grip of ropes at his hands and feet.

And Thomas would do anything, anything, to give James peace. Even if that peace was brought through pain.

– Post series, Thomas takes care of James after a rough night. Aftercare and comfort because I love these two too much –

it’s so fluffy and beautiful and it’s one of my all time favourites. no explicit sex, though the implication is there

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! by NahaFlowers

It’s snowing outside and Thomas wants to go out and play in the snow, despite it being the dead of night. James’s protests are feeble at best - he can’t deny this man anything. Just cute fluff. Written for penflicks on Tumblr.

look. let’s be realistic. it doesn’t get much fluffier than thomas carrying james to bed

Till Death Us Do Part by Palebluedot

And there’s that ache, and there’s that sweetness, and lord, James really would swear in the eyes of God that he cannot bear to live without him, wouldn’t he?

~+~+~+~

Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder: a triptych.

james thinking about marriage in london, nassau, and after the reunion. the first and third parts are the fluffiest fluff ever to fluff, but the middle will break your heart in the best way

Something like Home by enthugger

Sober, James thinks that Thomas Hamilton is brilliant. He is safe and warm and his presence is a soft glow that brightens the ridged structure of James’ mind. Drunk, he believes that Thomas should own the goddamn world.

imagine me making a sound akin to the sound one makes when seeing a particularly adorable kitten, and you’ll get an accurate idea of my reaction to this fic

you are a constellation by ohCaptain (AngryPirateHusbands)

fluffy porn about thomas appreciating james’ freckles, absolutely lovely!

im sure there’s more but im tired now. i hope your day gets better soon anon!

#Anonymous #flinthamilton #james flint #thomas hamilton #black sails

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 years

Text

December 17: Gift Exchange

I went to work for the whole day today but it didn’t really feel like I did a whole day’s worth, or even a half day’s worth, of actual work. We had our holiday gift exchange at noon, which was quite nice. I wish we’d gotten food from a better place (it’s so overrated! like honestly you can get a better sandwich at Panera and it’s probably cheaper? but whatever I’m a minority of one in this opinion), but it was still nice to take a long lunch, and everyone was in a festive and fun mood, and we actually had a (nearly) full house of 16 full and part time staff all hanging out together, so it felt... homey.

CB wore my supervisor’s cat hat. There was an extended joke about his daughter wrapping all the gifts. I told JS about the weirdness of kindergarten age cut offs even during my generation (her daughter, born in September, is caught in that ‘is she actually old enough for school?’ debacle rn and apparently it’s even worse than it was 25 years ago). Our director seemed quite pleased with the poster and gift card we got him for his last year.

I’m always worried that my gifts are going to be wrong or insufficient or stick out as weird and terrible versus everyone else’s gifts, but I think they were okay. I got my recipient a kindle e-book, because that was his request, and there was some confusion (afterwards) about how to get it to him, but it worked out. I admitted straight out that the cookies I gave him were store-bought because I’m no baker, but at least I’m honest. (”I collected them myself from the forest floor.”) My book + cookies in a nice tin was pretty on par with most gifts: mostly book + food, or book + gift card, or food + gift card, with some variants, like alcohol + mug or food + tea.

My supervisor had me as a recipient, which is lucky for me, because she’s great at gift giving and one of the ambitious sorts. She gave me a yarn bowl she made, filled with candy, a copy of The Witch on DVD, and this strange but nifty little triangle of tea samples. I’m overwhelmed by the generosity tbh. Also the bag had a llama and penguins on it and is so cute.

Everyone was in a gift-giving mood today: I had three separate co-workers give out gifts, plus a fourth last Friday. Little things: a necklace, a pair of gloves, a little sample of tea. Very thoughtful people. My supervisor gave everyone the department little ornaments. Mine is a hedgehog and omgosh he’s the cutest. I think he’s going to live mostly at my desk. My little desk goblin. Just needs a name.

We also had facilities people around and about most of the day, working in the ceiling trying to fix whatever it is that’s causing the weird smell. It seems to be mostly in the ceiling above my work area--lucky me!!!! They were here Friday, and again today to install a new part or some such. Sometimes they came into my space (thanks for asking first lol!), and sometimes they were more in the middle of the office next to me, and sometimes in the student work room behind me. Today they temporarily blocked me into my office a couple times, and once, blocked me out. They also left a lot of debris on the floor--which they vacuumed, and on my shelving--which they did not. I think I even found a piece of ceiling on my shelf.

Anyway, I finished the draft of my BSS fic after work, and I’m going to edit it tomorrow and send it in. And then.... just get through work.... rest so much after work... until Thursday, when I pack. I’m really going to try to be as unambitious as possible prior to Thursday night. Watch a lot of tv. Read fic, maybe. Watch Christmas movies. Minimal writing--at most, little free write ficlets, and maybe not even those. That’s all. Just some peace and rest.

#the year 2018 #2018: rl

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sirladysketch · 6 years

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It’s not quite canon since it doesn’t fit into the timing of the fic but WHATEVER I wanted to write a sappy New Years fic.

“Where are we going?” Roxas asked for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. He tightened his grip on Axel’s hand, hoping that he wouldn’t accidentally get separated in the surprisingly crowded streets. He tried to match Axel’s pace which was rather difficult, considering the length of Axel’s strides and number of people milling around. Plus, Axel was walking faster than usual, although whether that was from excitement or due to the cold, Roxas couldn’t quite tell. He had to take two steps to every one of Axel’s, but he had a good grip, and Axel seemed to have mastered the art of slipping through crowds, so there was room enough to follow in his wake.

Still, Roxas wasn’t sure why the streets were filled with people, or where they’d all come from. Sure, it was New Years Eve, but it was as though all the inhabitants of Radiant Gardens had decided to take to the streets, cold as it was. Everyone was bundled up and clustered in the narrow streets with steaming cups of holiday cheer, laughing, chatting with friends and loved ones. Even some of the shops were still open, windows twinkling with lights and greenery, warm yellow light spilling over mounds of snow and ice.

Was this what the people of Radiant Gardens did for holidays? In the two years Roxas and Ven had lived there, they hadn’t actually gone out to see what was going on around town during any of the big holidays, not outside of what they saw one their way to and from school or work. The first year they’d been sick with the flu for the holidays, and spent most of their time napping or eating soup. They’d watched fireworks on the tv, dozing in and out of the news program and only catching glimpses of the festivities going on.

Of course, even when they were well, Ven never managed to stay awake past 10 pm since he got up at the crack of dawn. They usually celebrated with a nice brunch the next day instead, although last year had been around the time Ven started getting more distant, telling Roxas he’d had to go do some things for work and leaving with a few slices of toast. Roxas had spent most of the day at Namine’s to welcome in the new year with her family. But that had been the suburbs, not the city itself, and seeing the happy atmosphere cast the city in a warmer, more welcoming light.

This year, Xion’s offer to join her and the gang back in the islands had been tempting. She’d already sent him pictures of the massive beach party on Main Isle, including pictures of his cousin that could probably be considered blackmail material. He did miss her, sad that they would be spending another holiday apart, but Axel had asked him first, and Xion had only laughed and wished him well when he explained this, saying she “wouldn’t want him to start off the new year getting cockblocked by his sister.” And then she’d proceeded to read him the weather reports, 75 and sunny for them, while Radiant Gardens was barely pushing 30 degrees, and they’d gotten five inches of snow three days earlier. Roxas was maybe a little bit jealous. Some sunshine would be nice right about now.

Axel looked back over his shoulder to check on Roxas, caught his eye and grinned, then kept ploughing forward through the crowds. Roxas felt the squeeze on his hand, and the world felt a little warmer. He smiled into his scarf, feeling the blush on his cheeks. He would take Axel over sunshine any day.

“Where are we going?” he asked yet again, laughing as Axel pulled him up close. Axel’s arm went around him, the other hand tugging Roxas’ knit cap over his eyes.

“You’ll see!” Axel said, “but we’re almost there, so eyes closed, no peeking.” That wasn’t quite an answer, but Roxas relented, trusting Axel to not take them into a dark alley where they’d get mugged or something. Besides, Demyx had been excited about the surprise, practically bouncing off the walls when Roxas had stopped in to see Ven that afternoon. But he’d promised Axel he wouldn’t say anything, and although Roxas had tried to fish for hints, Demyx refused to divulge anything other than “Dress warm!”

Axel led him further from the crowds, the murmur of their conversations getting more muffled as they made their way down what Roxas could only assume was an alleyway. Axel maneuvered him to a stop, guiding one of Roxas’ hands up to rest against the wall as he pulled away.

“Ok, gimme one sec to get the door open then we can get inside and you can open your eyes.”

Roxas heard the faint jingle of keys and scrape of metal against metal, and the quiet muttering as Axel fought with an apparently sticky door. A grunt, two, and then there was an unhappy squeal of hinges, and a victorious “ha!” from Axel. Roxas allowed Axel to usher him into the building, and heard the door close with a heavy thunk behind them.

“Ok! You can open your eyes for now, but only ‘cause there are stairs and I think it’ll be easier in the long run.” Axel lifted the cap from over Roxas’ eyes, grinning as Roxas blinked at the sudden light. Axel leaned down, stole a kiss, then handed the hat back to him. “Hold onto this, though. You’re gonna need it when we get upstairs.”

“What is this place?” Roxas asked. He followed Axel up the staircase, trying to get some sort of clue from the building’s interior, but it looked like some sort of storage facility, with large crates and boxes of old gears and metal beams propped up in the corners. There was an odd noise to the building, too, as though a giant motor purred and whirred at the heart of it, but Roxas couldn’t see any overt signs of machinery or engines.

Axel laughed, reaching out to grab his hand and tug him up the stairs. “You’ll figure it out in a sec if you haven’t gotten it already,” he promised.

They went up what had to be five flights of stairs, the strange whirring taking on a more mechanical rhythm, a constant ticking as they rose higher and higher into the air. Roxas could feel the temperature dropping as they climbed ( how was that even possible ??) and he was glad he’d taken Demyx’s advice to add in another layer of clothes under his jacket. It almost felt like the room was open to the outdoors, which didn’t make any sense, because the only building in the city that looked like that was--

He laughed as it clicked into place. “We’re in the clock tower?”

This earned him another quick smile. “Got it in one! C’mon, we’re almost to the top.”

“Wait, how did you manage to get in here?” Roxas asked, thinking back to the door. It had sounded like a key in the lock, but maybe it’d been lockpicks? It was hard to believe that Axel knew anyone who could sneak him into one of the city’s prized bits of architecture, and as much as he wanted to give Axel the benefit of doubt, he could see the lockpicking thing as the more likely scenario. If they got caught, they could get in serious trouble. The thought of losing his scholarship and having to pay back the entirety of the Academy’s fees had him rooted to the spot, gripping the handrails.

“Relax, I have friends in high places, friends who trust me enough with keys to job sites,” Axel replied, then paused a beat. “Literally. I should’ve asked you about how you are around heights, I mean, you didn’t seem to mind the overlook so I figured this might be cool, but if you don’t wanna--”

“Axel, it’s ok,” Roxas interrupted. “Heights are fine, honestly I’m more worried about the possibility that we’re trespassing.”

Axel shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jacket. “Like I said, friends in high places. That includes the Historic Preservation Society, of which yours truly is a card-carrying member.” He grinned, then pulled out a small keyring, which he spun on one finger. “I’m also a paid consultant for some of the mural installations that’re going up around the city since I’m considered ‘up and coming local talent’, plus I’m in tight with the people in charge, which means I’m considered trustworthy enough to get site keys if there’s a project in the works.”

Roxas frowned, still unconvinced. “But… you’re a tattoo artist,” he said, knowing that he sounded like a bit of an ass but not sure how to soften his concerns. “I mean, I know you do gallery paintings and stuff, but visiting a site during the day to advise about wall art is a little different than sneaking up to the roof of said jobsite with some random stranger.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I did everything above board and fully vetted things with Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather-- those’re the ladies in charge of, like, everything . They were fine with it,“ Axel said, stuffing his hand back in his coat and pulling the coat closer to his body. He wasn’t quite pouting, but Roxas recognized the slight stiffening of his shoulders, as though he was bracing for an argument. Apparently he hadn’t planned for this kind of reaction, which tugged a bit of guilt from Roxas. Still, the thought of Axel approaching a stuffy board of directors and saying something along the lines of ‘I want keys to the clocktower so I can get lucky on New Years’ made him smile.

“You asked them if you could bring a date up here?” Roxas asked, and at Axel’s nod, he grinned. “What on earth did they say?”

“They told me --and I quote -- ‘That would be lovely, dear, how very romantic!’ And then they proceeded to argue about if it would be more romantic to take you out to dinner first, have something waiting up on the roof, or to take you home and have something waiting when we got back. I left before they could start on my wardrobe.” Axel waggled his eyebrows. “Also, they think I’m adorable , so you’d better watch out.”

Roxas laughed, finally taking the last few steps up the stairs to join Axel on the observation deck. “Do I need to worry about competition?” he asked, looping an arm through Axel’s and leaning against him. Axel radiated heat, and Roxas pressed a little closer still, soaking it in.

“Unless you’re filing for the role of nurturing grandma, I think you’re safe,” Axel laughed. “They’ve literally known me since I was born, Flora was Reno’s Kindergarten teacher and they’re all close family friends, sort of like a bonus set of grandmas. And they know me well enough to know that I’m not bringing you up here to get laid, do drugs, vandalize the premises, or get drunk enough to pee on the crowds below, so there really is nothing to worry about. And while it’s probably too late for dinner, I did take some of their advice to heart. C’mon, everything is set up out here so we get the best view.”

Axel led him through the collection of columns and out onto the path that circled the clock tower’s observation level. Sure enough, as they rounded the corner and came to the western face of the tower, Roxas stopped, staring out at what could only be described as a sea of twinkling lights.

He’d never seen the city like this, a view that made him feel like he was floating above the roofs of the city, but close enough that if he wanted to, he could reach down and touch the buildings below. Even the trolley tracks had been decorated for the holidays, turning them into a river of white lights and red bows that cut through and around the city. It was breathtaking . He wasn’t good with words, but fortunately Axel didn’t seem to expect him to say anything.

“And the view isn’t the only reason I brought you up here,” said Axel, nudging him further down the path. Roxas then spotted what could only be described as a nest of blankets and sleeping bags, what looked like a camping stove, and a bag of marshmallows. Axel pulled him towards it, settling him down and draping a blanket over top of him. Then he extracted a thermos from the inside of his coat and set it on the small stove, which was quickly up and running.

Roxas watched him carefully prepare two cups of cocoa, complete with marshmallows, and gratefully accepted the steaming cup. Then, he held up the blanket to let Axel slide in beside him. They cuddled together, shifting to find the most comfortable position to share heat without spilling the drinks. Roxas leaned his head against Axel’s shoulder and sighed, staring out at the city that stretched out before them.

Axel tilted his head to look down at him. “That’s a good sigh, right?”

“This is completely and utterly amazing and I feel like I’ve been blessed by three fairy godmothers whom I’ve never actually met but they’re already looking out for me,” he laughed, hand digging through the blanket to find Axel’s. He gave it a squeeze when he finally found it.

Axel laughed, pulling Roxas closer and tucking the blanket up around them to block out the cold. “Haha, so does that mean I get to play the role of dashing prince?”

“As long as you don’t refer to me as the damsel in distress and leave the sword fighting to me, we can roll with that,” Roxas agreed. “I wish I had one of Namine’s Christmas crackers left, they came with paper crowns and we could’ve completed the look.”

“We could go with the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ getup instead, no crown required,” suggested Axel. “I dunno how well a paper crown would stay on if there’s a breeze up here.”

“There’s nothing saying that one option excludes the other,” laughed Roxas. “But you probably don’t wanna start stripping at the top of the clock tower. Shared body heat only goes so far, and you did promise not to try to get laid up here, right?”

“Heart of ice,” complained Axel, although he pulled Roxas further onto his lap. Roxas stretched out to put the cup somewhere they wouldn’t accidentally upset it, then allowed Axel to pull him closer, dragging the blankets up further. The new position made it that much easier to reach up and pull Axel down for a quick peck before letting their scarves fall back in place.

“You are incredible and thoughtful and I would definitely like to show my appreciation once we’re back inside where the temperature is above freezing so this supposed ‘heart of ice’ has a chance to defrost a bit,” he said, and he felt Axel chuckle, even through the many layers of padded and insulated clothing. He leaned back to put his head on Axel’s shoulder again, looking out over the city lights. “Thank you for this, I mean it. This is infinitely better than lounging around on the couch in PJs to watch fireworks.”

“The night is young, the PJ thing is still doable when we get back.” Axel gave him a squeeze. “But we could also skip the PJ step altogether and then experience all kinds of fireworks tonight, if you know what I mean.”

“Dork,” Roxas laughed, nestling in closer. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

They fell into a quiet lull, hearing the crowds in the streets below, pointing out errant fireworks that were shot off rooftops and in city parks. Probably illegal fireworks, but they were pretty, and the night’s noises were remarkably siren-free, all things considered. Roxas took it all in, fingers idly brushing the back of Axel’s hand as they sat together, enjoying the night.

“So, why here?” he asked after a time had passed. “I mean, beside the great view and the fact that you have an in with the landlords.”

“What better place to ring in the new year than on a clock tower?” Axel asked, and Roxas snorted a quick laugh, burying his face back into the wool of his scarf. “I’ve had the keys for a while,” Axel admitted after a moment. “I like to come up here and get away from stuff for a while. It’s a good place to clear your mind, and the ladies know I won’t make a mess, so it works out for everyone. Plus, I dunno if you noticed, but the view is pretty sweet. The fireworks should practically be exploding in our faces.”

“Can you tell me about your work here?” Roxas asked, leaning back to look up at him. “What kind of murals are you painting?”

“Eh, it’s part of the continuing Radiant Gardens initiative, public works and beautification, that kind of thing,” Axel said. “They’re asking artists from all over the city to add something that represents what the city means to them.”

“More hearts?” Roxas asked.

Axel laughed. “I mean, apparently everyone and their aunt wants a heart tattoo, but no, I was thinking something a little more region-specific. Since we’re in the Twilight Town area, I thought I might do something with the sun or the trolley, or maybe even the view from up here. You can just make out the ocean if you watch the sunset from here, it’s really pretty.” He tightened his hug on Roxas, leaning down to nuzzle the back of his head. “I have a couple of designs that’ll be hung in the next gallery showing, I just need approval from the fairy godmothers, as you call them.”

“They don’t like your work?” Roxas asked.

“They can’t agree on which design works best for the location I’ve been given,” Axel clarified. “Honestly at this point I think I might just paint a new piece and give it to them as my final offer.”

“I'd like to see them, if they're not already packed up for the show,” said Roxas. “I like seeing things the way you see them, they’re…” He trailed off, embarrassed to finish the sentence. ‘Revealing’ could be interpreted in several ways-- and would be, since it was Axel-- but he couldn’t think of a better word for it.

Axel’s work showed off his appreciation for small details, for finding ways to make something that typically came across as ugly and ordinary blossom into something transcendent. Maybe it was the way he used light and shadow, or maybe it was in his use of colors. Roxas lacked the vocabulary needed to competently talk about art, and saying things like ‘awesome’ and ‘pretty’ didn’t carry the significant weight or nuanced feelings evoked by looking at Axel’s work. Maybe that could be his new year’s resolution-- to read up on art theory enough to hold a competent conversation with Axel and his artistic friends.

“I’m going to interpret the silence as ‘mindblowing and indescribably awesome’,” Axel said, but Roxas shook his head, thinking of a word that would work for now.

“ Inspiring. ”

Their conversation was interrupted by the buzzing of Axel’s phone, which he rooted around in his jacket to find.

“One minute to midnight,” he explained, pulling it out and turning off the alarm. “Just as a heads up for when fireworks start. It would suck if we were just chilling out and then all of the sudden BAM! Explosions in your face.”

Roxas laughed. “I mean, so long as we don’t have to worry about literal explosions up here.” When Axel didn’t say anything, Roxas pulled forward so he could turn around and look at Axel. “The fireworks don’t literally go off right here, right? Like, we don’t have to worry about fire hazards or going deaf from the mortars exploding, right?”

“....I don’t think so?” replied Axel, although the questioning tone in his voice left Roxas speechless. Axel leaned forward and rummaged in the bag with the marshmallows, pulling out a box of earplugs, which he handed to Roxas. “I mean, I got these in case but the fireworks are usually set off further down the street in the park, so even if there’s wind we should be far enough away that we don’t have to worry.”

“What do you mean--” Roxas started, but his worry was cut off as the first official firework rose into the air ahead of them, a red streak of smoke and fire that ended with a loud pop and a storm of glittery sparks rained down. It wasn’t quite as far as Roxas would’ve liked, but Axel had been right-- the fireworks seemed to be coming from a ways down the street, and the little wind that whistled through the tower was blowing towards the fireworks, not them, so they wouldn’t have to worry about smoke or any other debris floating their way.

This initial fear eased, Roxas forced himself to relax, settling back against Axel as more and more streams of light went up around them, and before long he was lost to the display, mesmerised by the lights. It went on for a good twenty minutes, a blur of color and sound and explosions, and Roxas only stayed grounded to the tower because of the warm anchor behind him, cheering at exceptionally loud displays, intensifying their hug when a particularly pretty display sparkled before them. The show ended with a fanfare of flares and percussive booms that left the tower rocking, slightly, and a heavy stillness hung in the air as the last of the smoke drifted away.

Roxas couldn’t quite move at first, still reeling from the intensity of it, only stirring when Axel seemed to move. A squeeze, a face pressed against the side of his own, a quiet “Happy New Years” whispered into his ear, and Roxas was able to move at last, turning to meet Axel with a kiss.

“Happy new years,” he replied, and laughed at the dopey smile he got in return. He grinned. “How quickly do you think we can clean this stuff up?”

“Why? Getting cold already?”

“Nah,” Roxas said,pulling the blanket off and folding it as Axel cleaned up the hot chocolate mess. “I wanna get home as quickly as possible for the next round of fireworks.”

Axel laughed. “Happy new years indeed! I think I could get used to this tradition.”

#my fics #KH fics #There is a Crack in Everything #sappy fics #Axel #Roxas #AkuRoku #kingdom hearts

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