Five Acts Meme

[linndechir]

The Five Acts Meme is happening again and it was the best thing ever last time, so you should all do this. ^^ It's multi-fandom; basically you can write fic for other people and they can write fic for you.



Here's how it works:

- Post a list of your five favourite kinks/acts or themes in your journal. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
- Comment to the master post with a link to your post.
- Read other people's lists here.
- Post comment-fic based off of other people's lists.


Five Acts:

1) asphyxiation, breath play, choking, collars, neck/throat petting and biting, hands on necks.
2) powerplay, D/s, humiliation (verbal or other), bondage
3) clothes fetish: one person being dressed during sex, the other being naked. people dressing or undressing each other. people being turned on by seeing someone in different clothes than usual (someone cleans up nicely, or someone who's always perfectly dressed looks dishevelled for once etc.). actual clothes fetishisation (uniforms, armour, tailored suits, leather boots/gloves/coats etc., whatever fits the characters).
4) guns and/or knives
5) guilt, shame, embarrassment: characters feeling like they shouldn't sleep with each other for whatever reason, or at least not in this particular situation/time/place, or characters being ashamed of liking a particular kink/act.


Fandoms/pairings:

A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones: Stannis/Jon, Stannis/Davos, Stannis/Sansa, Victarion/Asha, Balon/Victarion, Victarion/Asha/Theon, Victarion/any of his relatives, Aegon/Orys, Maegor/Aenys

Avengers: Steve/Tony (comics or movies, I'm fine with both)

Body of Lies: Hani Salaam/Roger Ferris

Coldfire Trilogy: Damien Vryce/Gerald Tarrant

Generation Kill: Brad/Nate

Hannibal: Hannibal/Will

Inglourious Basterds: Landa/Hellstrom

Justified: Tim/Raylan

Sherlock Holmes (2009): Blackwood/Coward

Skyfall: Bond/Q (top!Q preferred, bottom!Q is fine as long as he's not written as shy/inexperienced/insecure)

Sons of Anarchy: Chibs/Juice, Clay/Tig

Supernatural: Dean/Benny, John/Dean (no non-con for this ship)

Teen Wolf: Peter/Stiles

The Tudors/historical RPS: Cromwell/Cranmer

True Blood: Eric/Godric

Welcome to the Punch: Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky



Fics given:

Not much of a choice (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, enemies working together + oral fixation) for doreyg

A cure for temptation (Skyfall, Bond/Q, admiration and envy + touching + UST) for outboxed

Fics received:

I Wish My Enemy a Placid Love (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, guilt/shame) by doreyg

Burdens (ASOIAF/GOT, Stannis/Davos, guilt + power play) by nightswhisper

Choke (Teen Wolf, Peter/Stiles, asphyxiation + power play + one clothed partner) by theaveryrule

Comments

[housecreepy.livejournal.com]

Yay, glad to see this is happening again!

[linndechir.livejournal.com]

I have been excited about this for the past three weeks or so. I hope I can get a lot of people to sign up. ;)

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

(So. I saw Welcome to the Punch and made a loud screechy noise, and then almost fell off my chair, and then wrote this quite speedily. It doesn't actually contain any sex, because I ended up getting carried away with their gloriously dysfunctional mess of a relationship. << I might come back and write sex, though! Because THESE TWO! AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP! AND THAT FILM!)

--

I Wish My Enemy a Placid Love (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, Guilt/shame, 15) 1/3

The first time that they properly sleep with each other, in a bed with the doors locked and their clothes littered across the floor, Max sprawls for only a moment after the act is done and then rolls away so fast that it almost gives him whiplash. Hits the floor with a dull thump and crawls towards the bathroom at a speed that’d put a cheetah to shame.

He lies on his back for a stunned few seconds afterwards, his hand resting on his stomach and his eyes tracing slowly over the cracked ceiling.

He frowns, as slowly as possible with his fingernails starting to dig in just the slightest bit.

He blinks…

And then he clambers to his feet, at a far more reasonable speed. Pads nakedly to the bathroom with a certain hope that Max hasn’t managed to worm himself out of the small window and down to the hard street below, because losing such an unexpected prize just after gaining it would be most unfortunate.

Max, thankfully, has done nothing of the sort. Max is, though, currently coiled besides the toilet with his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking.

He watches for a moment, carefully, and then takes one slow step forwards. Takes another step when Max only gives a soft whimper in reply. Is soon all the way across the room and crouching down besides him, hesitating for a long few seconds before slowly reaching out a hand and brushing it over the man’s ever so thick hair “…Hello?”

“Ugh,” the noise that he receives in response really can’t be put into words. It is half-screech, half-moan and all uncertain in a way so profound that it almost makes him doubt his own existence. The only response to it can be to blink again, and settle a little deeper into the crouch with the knowledge that such a noise heralds a long and puzzling wait “…We shouldn’t be doing this.”

…Or a short and puzzling wait. Either way.

“Sitting in a bathroom and having what could be tentatively termed as a collective mental breakdown?” He manages mildly, stroking Max’s hair again for the lack of anything better to do – it’s soft under his fingertips, just as thick as he secretly used to imagine on the nights when he was overtired and the lights danced temptingly above, “Or… Other things? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Well, the collective mental breakdown probably isn’t the best idea, but…” Max chokes, breathes through his nose, chokes again. He’s half considering a slap on the back when the man finally manages to gather his breath and forge boldly on, “we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Still a little worried, he allows his already reaching hand to continue stretching towards Max’s bare shoulder for a long few moments before answering “…I may need some more specifications, I’m afraid.”

“And I thought you were smart,” the choke is a little softer this time, but still far too clear – he hesitates for another long few seconds before touching Max’s shoulder, stroking it ever so gently, “we just slept together, Sternwood. You and me. Five minutes ago. We’re still naked from it now, you’re crouching before me with hickeys all over your neck.”

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

I Wish My Enemy a Placid Love (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, Guilt/shame, 15) 2/4

--

…So that’s what’s stinging. He moves the hand on Max’s head briefly away to rub just under his jawline, quickly returns it at yet another shuddering breath, “I hate to remind you of this, especially at this difficult point, but we have had sex before.”

Another shaky breath, he flattens his hand into Max’s hair and keeps stroking as soothingly as he can.

“In the van, and against that wall just after I broke you out, and in the back of that car, and that one time when you just couldn’t wait to get out of the…”

“I remember,” Max says brusquely, and finally lifts his head with blue eyes shining. It really shouldn’t fix him to the spot, but that’s apparently inevitable now – every time he gets the slightest glimpse of Max’s eyes he feels like doing something far from sensible, and that’s something that he really should get used to, “but… Fuck, they weren’t like this. They didn’t involve condoms, they didn’t involve penetration, they didn’t involve the implication of a fucking relationship in any shape or form.”

…He takes a break from his captivation by Max’s eyes to consider that.

Ah.

He carefully avoids Max’s eyes as best he can, while swiftly moving his hands to grab the man’s wrists and keep his face free for as long as possible, “I’m slightly worried about your definition of a relationship if you don’t consider some of the things that we’ve done to be signifiers of one.”

Max only glares at him, sullenly, “Sternwood.”

“…But I do understand what you mean,” and he has to admit that, with Max glaring up at him and Max’s wrists bony in his grip and Max so near that he’s pretty sure that any lesser man would be intoxicated, “I suppose, now that we’ve actually slept together like normal people generally do, that we could be considered to be dating.”

And… yes, oh yes, that’s the issue. Max freezes under him, then relaxes to something still, and then stiffens again when he slowly glances down. His expression is that of a rat caught in a cage, flitting between the extremes. He can’t work out what the man’s face is saying – there’s anger in there, yes, and some slight residual pain from the leg. But there’s also fear and confusion and a trembling fragment of hope and-

“…And is that so bad?” Comes out of his mouth before he can quite stop it, tugged viciously forth by the rough storm of emotion that seems to be working its way through Max beneath him, “us dating?”

“Sternwood-“

“I can think of far worse things in the world, I have to say.”

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

I Wish My Enemy a Placid Love (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, Guilt/shame, 15) 3/4

--

“…We’re bad people,” Max decides eventually, his mouth setting into a line. He still doesn’t seem quite sure about it, the storm fails to abate and grows simply more violent instead, “and we’re bad for each other. Neither of us have any business being in a relationship, us dating is a recipe for disaster that doesn’t bear thinking about.”

He nods over these points, finds them true. Also finds, for the first time in twenty odd years and isn’t that a shock, that he doesn’t quite care about the truth – would rather toss it to the side in an entirely irrational way, “Why would we be bad for each other? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that we’ve actually been rather good for each other over the past few months. You saved my life, I saved yours, you allowed me to avoid prison, I broke you out of it...”

“We ruined each other’s’ lives,” Max corrects him. Flatly. His mouth remaining in a line as he stares stubbornly up, “you shot me in the leg and condemned me to aching pain and a general lack of running for the rest of my life.”

…That is a slightly better point. He can’t help a slight wince at it, a tighten of his fingers, “sorry-“

“And I forced you to leave the country and stay lost due to my unhealthy obsession,” Max only goes over him with a sigh, a slight quirk up of the line of his mouth – he looks a little resigned, the facts of their lives weighing them both down so surely that it’s a wonder they aren’t pinned to the bathroom floor, “healthy relationships are supposed to involve neither of those things, and that’s a fact.”

He considers for another long few seconds before he finally manages words. The facts still weigh him down, the guilt presses even harder “…I’d rather say normal relationships.”

“Healthy, normal,” Max arches an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitches yet again, “aren’t they the same thing?”

“No-“

“Largely,” Max interrupts again, the quirk practically becoming a fact of his face – he considers kissing it to shut the man up, only narrowly restrains himself due to reasons of sanity, “for we are neither. You dragged me into an absurd gangster situation involving the smuggling of guns and several severe breaches of the law.”

“That-“

“And I dragged you into an absurd corruption situation where the politicians were evil, my boss was evil, and most of my colleagues seemed to be ranging from mildly malicious to working for Satan,” he’s getting a little tired of not being able to talk. Max sighs softly over him, another thing that is becoming far too much of a habit – briefly jerks his wrist in his grip before realizing and reluctantly easing yet again, “again, not things that healthy relationships involve. Or normal ones-“

“Would you let me speak?” He interrupts this time, charges on as Max is blinking – well aware that speed is apparently of the essence, “I don’t want a normal relationship-“

“But you should want a healthy one” …Though speed apparently isn’t enough. The man darts in again, a certain determination rising in his eyes that he can already tell is going to be an annoyance, “one that doesn’t involve having to break your boyfriend out of prison before fleeing the country with him, never to return. Do you hear any celebrities with that story? Have you ever seen any of your friends in such a situation?”

“I have a wide circle of friends,” he protests stiffly, trying his very hardest not to break into a glare and ruin everything, “and you’re not listening, I like being unique.”

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

I Wish My Enemy a Placid Love (Welcome to the Punch, Jacob Sternwood/Max Lewinsky, Guilt/shame, 15) 4/4

--

“This isn’t unique, this is insane,” Max growls, not bothering to hold back his glare – he rises up slightly, muscles tensing and mouth resettling into an even firmer line, “I let you go, I let you take me, I let you lead us over several countries and a few continents besides, I let us both abandon everything that we’ve ever known for the sake only of each other. No celebrity, no friend, no stranger on the street has that story – and that’s because it’s utter and complete lunacy, and unhealthy, and abnormal.”

“Unique,” he says carefully, also trying his very hardest not to grit his teeth and bunch his fists and generally coil into a little ball of annoyance, “different, surprisingly smart considering the options open to us-“

“You ran away with the man who killed your son!” Max yells, finally rising up fully to grab his shoulders and try to shake him and-

“I ran away with the man who saved my life!” He snarls back, finally losing his own temper, and pushes the man down – the world seems to still for a long moment. Everything is quiet, Max’s bright blue eyes glinting up at him, “and tried to save my son’s life, and tried to save so many lives even as he lost so much along the way. You are sensible, you are healthy, you are the most fascinating thing that I know and will probably ever know. You’re the only person in the world that could ever understand me.”

There’s a pause.

A moment.

A long second between breaths.

“…And the only person that I would ever want to understand me,” he looks away from Max’s face, for something else to do – comes to rest on a random patch of wall instead, studies the darkness of it carefully to avoid thinking about all the dark little spots that he doesn’t want to enter his mind, “in truth.”

There’s a long pause before Max answers – and when he does, finally, his voice is just slightly shaky, “it’s not sane.”

“Neither are we.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“It’s the healthiest option open to us.”

“It’s not normal.”

“Who wants normal?” And he finally glances back, finally stares at a point just above Max’s eyes and takes a deep breath in and steels himself and- “who needs it? If we’re talking truthfully then the only thing that we really need is each other, and that’s a mutual abnormality that we might as well take advantage of for as long as possible.”

Max remains silent for a long few seconds.

Quiet.

Almost…

“I need a shower too,” thoughtful. As he dislodges his hands, pushes him back and rises to his feet with another quirk that’s somewhere near a smile, “and a little less philosophizing, and then a nice warm bed. You’re welcome to join me for any of those things, if you’re done with babbling in a way that makes little to no sense.”

He remains crouching for a second, smiling ruefully.

…He rises slowly to his feet, with a soft chuckle, and follows Max as he always will. Not quite at the speed of a cheetah, for they’re not that much alike, but fast enough that it hardly makes a single bit of difference.

[linndechir.livejournal.com]

Eeeeeeeeh, I'm so excited you wrote this for me! I saw in your sign-up yesterday that you've seen WttP and ship Jake/Max and I was already planning to write fic for you, too (you have some seriously amazing pairings on that list), so I'll return the favour some time this weekend. Until then, thank you so much for this! :D (Btw, I have two Jake/Max ficlets on my LJ, if you wanna read them.)

I love Max's guilt and shame and total breakdown, and how Jacob is just so gentle and understanding about it, because he is a really gentle guy when he's not in his professional mode.

AND YES YES YES TO STERNWOOD BREAKING MAX OUT THAT'S THE ONLY POST-MOVIE CANON I WILL ACCEPT. And it absolutely makes sense that Jake would think of it as them saving each other, while Max thinks they ruined each other's lives. And in a way they're both right. Aaaaah, and of course mentioning his son is the only thing that makes Jake lose his temper, but even so he doesn't change his mind.

I love these two and their fucked up codependent obsessed relationship so much. Thanks for writing this. And if you come back to write more, I will just explode with happiness. Even more than I already exploded now. ;)

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm really glad that you liked it. I also got very excited when I saw that somebody else liked Welcome to the Punch (SUCH A GOOD MOVIE. And yet barely any fic, humph), so I was very happy to write it. :) (also, YES! I really enjoyed both of them, and need to reread them a few times and flail happily. Precious dysfunctional idiots, I'm so fond of them. <333)

And he is! That's one of the things I like best about his character, really, so I'm glad I carried it across. He honestly seems like the nicest guy in the movie - which is a slightly odd thing to say, considering that his first scene consists of robbing a bank and shooting a guy.

AND YES! I refuse to accept that either one would leave the other. They have a BOND, man. And I do like that difference in their viewpoint throughout the film, so I'm glad that I also got that across. Jake, oddly enough, seems to be a bit more of a positive person - so I think that him going "yeah, we saved each other and are pretty good for each other" does make quite a bit of sense. And of course they're both right - they totally ruined each other's lives, but they're so codependent that they sort of made each other better along the way. And yessssss. I like most of the surrounding people in the movie, so I like mentioning them. (Though it does make me think, sadly, about what Jake's son's reaction would've been to his new stepdad had he lived...)

Thank you again! And I am really glad that you liked it. :D

[nightswhisper.livejournal.com]

Burdens - Game of Thrones: Stannis/Davos - Guilt, Power Play- PG-13


He shouldn't want this. He shouldn't take part, cave into these mad desires that plague him. He is a good man, as good as a sailor can be. He's paid his penance for his crimes when he took his rewards. Davos was even in the eyes of the seven- he would hope- and of the laws of men. He knows that his King is a good man. Solid. Strong in his sense of duty and loyalty to the realm as much as his men.

Davos knows how his King feels about his younger brother's...tendencies. There has been no amount of love shed on the matter. Yet something lingers with his kings gaze that makes the sailor wonder if perhaps it is not an isolated case within the family. May the seven help him, he hopes it to be even though the very notion sends guilt coursing through his veins.

It's not supposed to happen. He's not supposed to feel like this. He loves his wife, though she is far from him. When it does happen, when somehow in the shadows far away from the light and that damn fire witch, the only thing he can do is hold on as under practices lips attack him with every severity as the stern man would project with his usual 'charm'. Stannis had always been decisive. At least he'd let the world believe.
Davos has seen men at their best and their worst, been through war and famine. He is familiar with the signs of fear. All of their age are. He detects the hesitancy in hands. He feels the tension that has coiled its way around his king ever since the death of his younger brother. Stannis' unease nearly chokes his words when he isn't required to speak them with force. He has never bothered with masks around the sailor.

So he does what he must. He fists the back of his king's throat, whispering a brief apology of his insolence against the king's stubble. Davos should never handle his king in such a disrespectful way. Stannis swallows his bitter remark knowing the truth of it all. He cannot justify this lapse of judgment on his own accord. Stannis has made a decision. It's Davos' duty to see it complete.

This is what he tells himself as he presses his king to the ground. Stannis resists him on principle. It's a charade he soon discards. The king allows his future hand to pin him against the damp soil and weeds. He flinches at the clunk of his belt being undone, the zipping of it being pulled fiercely away. He allows calloused hands to strip away every scrap of robing leaving him prone to the world even though the other is shielded by his own coverings.

He scowls for a moment. He hadn't been a fan of the secular aspects of all this. His duties to his wife were mandatory. He did what was expected with minimal exposure. But Davos had never been raised with such...discipline. While the thought of his own body made Stannis doubt his conviction, the burning behind Davos' eyes and his own hesitance willed it away. He had shamed himself this far. What was one more barrier.

Reaching for Davos' waist the other brushes him away, taking his wrists in hand and pushing them down until Davos hovered above his king. “No.” Stannis inhales sharply as the word that had long been foreign in its direction towards him stings and inflames his senses.

Davos is afraid for a moment that he has gone too far. When he is not condemned he presses on, exploring the king in ways he's certain the other has not permitted others to. He is such a prideful man. And still he gasps into the shadows as the other presses silent commands into flesh. Davos knows of his own skills and while he hasn't practiced them on the male form they seem to be effective. He feels his king clamor for his touch, to be released of the burden that comes with command for the briefest moment.

It is a service Davos is willing to provide should it ease his king's mind. It is one he foresees that will be repeated. He will ask for forgiveness later. After all, he can adhere to the seven's punishment after the Stranger comes a calling. Right now, he listens to only one man. Rather, only one man listens to him.

[linndechir.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for writing this. I love your take on the characters - it's a nice change to see the whole guilt aspect from Davos' perspective, because in most fics Stannis is the one who's angsting and Davos is way more relaxed. And Stannis letting Davos take control because that somehow makes it easier for him is also something I can definitely see happening. Thanks a lot. :D

[moderntrickster.livejournal.com]

I hope you don't mind that I'm using this for a MMOM fic too; it fit, so I figured why not kill two birds with one fic. ;)

Choke. Peter/Stiles. Asphysiation, power-play, one clothed partner. 1/2

Peter's hand curled slowly around his throat from behind, fingers flexing, trying to find the most comfortable space to fit his hand against Stiles' thin, pale throat. His hands were large, strong, and Stiles was a lot more lithe than he'd ever been, even as a teenager, and the difference between their bodies was never more apparent than when Peter held him like this, tight in his lap with an arm snug around his waist.

They were in Peter's chair: the high, black, wing-backed one in the living room that faced a picturesque bay window looking out on the forest beyond. With the lights all out in the house, he could see the black-on-blue silhouette of the forest outlined against the sky and the thin sliver of the moon slicing through the starry blanket above. It was the only thing Stiles had to look at, his back pressed against Peter's chest and his hands gripping the arms of the chair in anticipation.

So far he could still breathe, drawing in long, slow breaths as he tried to will his body to relax under him, against Peter. He could feel the older man's jeans scratching his bare thighs and his warm skin through his teeshirt against his back. His own clothes were in a pile next to the chair, his shorts and socks as well, leaving him as bare to the forest beyond the wall as it was to him. That was the way Peter liked him, exposed and vulnerable. He was the proverbial lamb to Peter's wolf, only instead of being caught in the wolf's jaws, he was trapped beneath his claws instead.

He squirmed, just trying to get more comfortable where he was, and Peter growled lightly against his ear. His breath was warm as his body, the scent of red wine and blood drifting past him. Just the smell of him made Stiles hard, though he wasn't sure if that was a conditioned reaction to him or just teenage hormones getting over-excited at the prospect of his touch. Every time Peter was near him he felt the tension stirring, demanding his attention, demanding that he do something to lessen its insistence. The only thing he could to, and he was all too aware of his limited options, was give Peter the nod he was waiting for.

There was some vague awareness of how much control he had in this - he was the one who signaled when to start and when to stop - but all of that escaped from his mind when Peter's grip tightened around his throat. Stiles managed to get a groan past his lips before the tension cut off the sound, tight enough that he could feel his body start to react in response. He would never get used to that initial flood of panic, prickling the hair on his arms and the back of his neck, making his heartbeat hitch and speed up. It was the fight-or-flight response that every living thing was designed to have, to keep them safe from predators, but Stiles had never been known to listen to that voice in the back of his head that told him to run away. He was more likely to run towards danger, the same way he arched against Peter's chest and leaned into his hand.

Instead of another growl, Peter gave him a chuckle in response, sinking his nails into the tender flesh of Stiles' neck, just hard enough leave crescent-shaped bites behind. He pressed his palm in and up, to give Stiles the feeling of pressure that would have his body reeling harder, and his heartbeat tearing inside his chest, but wouldn't completely cut off his ability to breathe just yet. It worked, and Stiles felt the pressure slowly flow down his spine to settle in his gut. It was all the better because Peter refused to rush this; he wanted it to last as long as possible too, to kept Stiles dangling helplessly on a taut line as he tightened and loosened his grip, giving him just enough relief to get him through the next tight squeeze.

[moderntrickster.livejournal.com]

2/2

Each time he went further than the last, until Stiles couldn't even struggle to drag a breath into his lungs. Only then did Peter's other hand slide down from where it had rest on his stomach to wrap around him. A groan caught before it ever reached his throat, and Peter tisked softly against his ear, tightening his hold just a little bit more until Stiles couldn't so much as think about trying to draw in another breath or make another sound. More striking than the inability to breathe was the pressure that built around Peter's hand, in his lips, in the tips of his fingers, with each loud thump of his heart. He knew about how long he could hold his breath, and Peter should as well for as often as they'd done this, and as the seconds ticked down the man's hand started moving steadily faster, all the chemicals in his body rushing down to meet his firm strokes.

If he had a hard time holding still before, it was nearly impossible now. He squirmed in Peter's lap, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. His feet arched, toes curling in the soft carpet as his body hurled rapidly closer to the edge. But neither hand relented, and Stiles didn't want them to either, he wanted to feel Peter's grip tight against his throat and feel his body screaming for release. His whole body tingled and his muscles tensed involuntarily, toes barely touching the floor as his knees drew up and he spilled across his thighs.

The sudden rush of blood had him too dizzy to react, but his hand slipped off the arm of the chair and Peter instantly loosened his grip in response, letting his hand fall to Stiles' chest to feel his rapid heartbeat still thudding away, excited. He cradled Stiles' head against his shoulder, resting his cheek against the side of the boy's head as he slowly came down from the rush of orgasm. Soon, he started to stir in Peter's lap again, letting out a soft murmur of protest as Peter tried to hold him in place. He shushed Stiles gently, reaching for a Kleenex to clean him up. As rough as his hands had been before, they were tender now, wiping him clean and dropping the used tissue into a trash can he had placed nearby. He shifted under Stiles, turning him sideways in his lap so he could keep a better eye on him while he caught his breath again.

Peter grinned at him, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against his cheek. "I don't know why you can't just do drugs like other kids your age," he hummed.

He gave a weak one-shouldered shrug and tucked his knees up against his chest, "Because my dad's a cop," he offered, as if it made this any better than the alternative.

[linndechir.livejournal.com]

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, this was a wonderful thing to wake up to, thank you. You know, I'd be vaguely ashamed of even watching this show (well, semi-watching) if I didn't love Peter so much and shipped these two so hard, and yeah. I'm glad this is a thing that exists. Can't really go wrong with choking porn, and I just love your descriptions here (and fingernails digging into skin when you know the guy's a werewolf adds a special flavour ;)).

"I don't know why you can't just do drugs like other kids your age," he hummed.

He gave a weak one-shouldered shrug and tucked his knees up against his chest, "Because my dad's a cop," he offered, as if it made this any better than the alternative.

I love this. It's such a Peter thing to say, and Stiles' matter-of-fact reply is equally hilarious. "Hey, dad, I'm sleeping with a psycho werewolf twice my age, but at least I don't do drugs?" ;) Thank you so much for writing this, it definitely put me in a great mood before work. :D

[moderntrickster.livejournal.com]

I couldn't decide between this and Chibs/Juice stuff, but I'm writing a bunch of Chibs/Juice stuff for MMOM too so we'll just say that's all for you as well. ;)

Funny thing, those lines were actually at the beginning of the fic when I started it and it just wasn't working. But as soon as I cut them and put them at the end and slammed right into the action it was like... Oh, this is so much better!

Anywhoooo~ I'm very glad I could give you something nice to wake up to. <33

[linndechir.livejournal.com]

Haha, okay, then I'm looking forward to the Chibs/Juice stuff, too. :D

I'm glad you found a place to fit those lines in because they're great. ^^