#a super long

[tsukkinoneko]

Honestly, I wish I was in ‘smut writing mood’ more often since I do have a lot of moments where I’ve written to the smut part then my demisexual ass decides to say ‘no one’s writing smut right now, lols’. .-.

[teamfreeawesome]

I have decided to post a tiny snippet of the Danny/Marc hatefucking AU (technically the prequel to this fic) that I've been working on, because it's reached a halt. I have the whole fic planned out, and it's mostly taken shape, but I've reached a dead-end in terms of enthusiasm. This is my impassioned plea for a cheerleader or two haha. Poor borninthecold will buckle under the burden of being my sole Danny/Marc enthusiast. *Sighs* Writing. Bleh. 

Marc is fast.

Fast and intense with a curling smirk as his blades scrape against the surface. His cheeks are flushed, burnt with the joy of being on the ice, and Danny hates him.

Eyes crinkled, Marc shoves and trips and whispers, voice crumbly with delight – and Danny wants to rip the smile from his lips.

Three minutes into his shift, Marc checks Danny from behind, laughter echoing in Danny’s ears as he holds him tight against the boards.

“Flushed is a good look on you, Brière,” Marc whispers, mouth pressed into the crook of Danny’s neck.

He’s held there for barely seconds, blood rushing in his ears as he shivers, but it feels like years. He smirks vindictively as the penalty is called, but it doesn’t stop the echoed feeling of warm breath against skin, Marc’s words hovering in the air beside him.