#fan fi

[waezi2]

“Fanfiction is just dumb writing”...

... Is one of the most idiotic things anyone has ever said.

What the hell do you think THIS IS:

Tell me how those are NOT fan-fiction!

[antiquechampagne]

And so it begins...

again... I just sent the first chapter for my newest fic off to my beta. To be honest, the gif is not a tease... it’s going to be set in Goodneighbor again... because I am a glutton for that setting. I hope you all enjoy it when I publish it!

[anninhiliation]

Para La Baby

Anon: “ Hey, was wondering if you could do a smut with Richard and Yashua threesome kind if thing ? Love your blog btw xx "

Masterlist         Requests Close Nov 10

Warnings: It's a brotherly threesome

To tell you the truth, I have no idea how this happened but somehow by God’s will, I was sandwiched between the Camacho brothers. I was on my knees, on a carpet ground with Richard’s hard cock in one hand and in the other Yashua’s. I licked Yashua’s tip and sunk down on him as I massaged Richard. I alternated between both dicks making sure I didn't keep one dick in my mouth for too long. Two different hands explored my body. I moaned out as two different hands landed on my breasts and massaged. Yasuha tugged on my nipple as Richard tugged, a pool flooded between my thighs. The two men grew tired of just my mouth, so I climbed up on the couch and got on all fours. Richard aligned himself with my soaked slit as I grabbed Yashua’s hard dick and massaged. Richard grabbed my waist as he balanced one foot on the ground and a knee on the cushion. Without warning, Richard rammed right into make setting a rough and fast pace, and he tightened his grip around my waist. I bounced back and forth, distracted by the moment until Yashua tapped my face with his member. I licked up his length and encircled his tip. I relaxed my jaw and wedged Yashuas dick deep in my mouth. He grabbed my hair and made a makeshift ponytail as my nose was pressed against his abdomen. I gagged around Yashua, as tears rolled down my cheeks. 

“Such a good girl” Yashua would coo seeing the mascara run down my face

My body shook back and forth because of Richard as I came up for air. Slobbering all over Yashua, before sinking back down for more. I gagged around Yashua again letting my face squish into his abdomen. I felt a sting come from my ass that turned over to a sweetness as Richard let go of my waist with one hand and smacked my ass. I pulled out of Yashua, letting a moan out as I massaged him, and quickly went back to bobbing.

"My turn" Yashua grunted as he pulled himself out of my mouth letting the strings of drool drop to the floor.

Richard pulled out from behind me and I turned around crawling over to Richards member. I licked up the length tasting my juices that encoated his penis. Yashua hungrily slapped my ass watching my flesh jiggle and rammed himself inside me. I moaned out on Richard’s flesh as Yashua stretch me out in a different manner. Like his brother, he set a fast and rough pace pushing me back and forth with his force. I sunk down on Richard hungrily, letting my jaw relax as I buried him deep into my mouth. I gagged around him for as long as I could, letting new tears form around my eyes. When I couldn't take it anymore I came back up for air, panting I massaged his member and licked around it until I could bob my head on him again. Yashua pulled out and helped me stand up, as I detached myself from Richard. Yashua bent me over and I grabbed Richards thighs for balance as Yashua penetrated my other hole. I resunk down on Richard as both men thrusted into me. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as flesh smacked against my holes. 

“Yo stand her up” Richard groaned as he pulled out of me 

“Fuck off I'm not done” Yashua argued

“Bro I wanna hit the other hole” Richard snarled as he pulled me up pulling one of my legs over his shoulder. 

Both men realigned themselves and inserted themselves inside me. They kept the pace slow at first, letting me adjust to the double penetration. Both men fought for my attention, kissing my lips and neck sending me into a fit of moans. As the pace quickened, a knot formed in my stomach. I was ready to see the stars and Yashua's thrusts turned sloppy and Richard began to fight his bodily urges. Yashua was the first to pull out, massaging his shaft against my ass and released. The warm fluid hit my lower back, and I lost control, releasing around Richard. If I wasn't being held up, I would have fallen over from the over stimulation. My walls gripping onto Richard made him lose control and he released inside me. He gently took my leg off his shoulder and groaned

"Damn baby that was hot"

A/N: thanks for being so patient guys! Whatever I'm posting this week (Sept 30 - the 4th of October has been queued! I scattered the times to make it more interesting and I'm a shit head but you're welcome

[pollylynn]

You Can Still Betray—A Caskett Tag for Under the Gun (3 x 03), NaFicWriMo #27

Title:  You Can Still Betray

Rating: T 


WC: 1300

Summary: “From the second Ryan's voice, tight with distress, comes crackling down the line. From the second before that, because her eyes find Royce through the bar's milling crowd, and she knows in that second how many red flags she's been ignoring.”

A/N: An Under the Gun (3 x 03) tag

Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love.

—Jean le Carré

She wants to be alone.

From the second Ryan's voice, tight with distress, comes crackling down the line. From the second before that, because her eyes find Royce through the bar's milling crowd, and she knows in that second how many red flags she's been ignoring. How many odd little questions and sentimental gestures she's let slide, even though they're  nothing like him, because she's been so damned eager for it to be true. So damned eager for him to want her back, whatever that means.

She knows everything before Ryan's words in her ear make any kind of sense, and she wants—profoundly wants—to be alone.

It's not in the cards, though. Crawling into a hole and dragging it in after herself isn't an option. Not for someone who's fucked up as badly as she has, so she pulls the other way. She asks questions, even though she already knows the answers.

She asks why Royce had risked coming back to the precinct after already he'd whisked Random off to make his deal. She wonders right out loud how long he'd been playing her.

She makes them say it out loud. Castle. Esposito. She punishes herself with hearing it, even though the pieces have long since fallen into place for her. Every painful one.

When I took the picture of the two of you . . .

Your boy Royce was part of the investigation.

And then he calls. He has the fucking gall to call her, and she manipulates him. She tries to, anyway. She grits her teeth and tells the truth. She has no idea if it will work. No idea if spelling out what he damned well already knows will have any effect at all, but this is her mess, and she has to try.  She doesn't get to run home and lick her wounds in private, however badly she wants to. She fucked up. This is her punishment, so she takes it.

She opens a vein for all the world to see.

Mike. I was in love with you.

She hears it. The low hum of pity. The buzz of condemnation punctuated by smug satisfaction from those more than happy to see her knocked down a peg. There's no shortage of either, and she feels it all. Pity and scorn. She feels it in her bones. In her teeth and all the way to the roots of her hair. She feels it, an ache that rises up from every cell.

She lives with it, though. She stands tall in front of the murder board. She reaches up and empties it methodically. What’s done is done.

She tries to filter out the noise. Outside noise. There’s no help for the din inside, but she tries  to let the words wash over her and to somehow not notice that they're all hovering. Montgomery peering through the blinds of his fishbowl office. Esposito and Ryan bickering. A hushed duet about whose job it ought to be. Whose job she ought to be, but it's lip service. They're waiting for him.

Castle.  

It's his job. She’s his job, and there isn't a person there who doesn't know it. Esposito melts away, radiating relief when it finally looks like Castle is about to step up. He doesn’t right away, though. He lingers on the far side of the bullpen fence, steeling himself, and Ryan, at least, has the good grace to ask. To make sure that Castle knows that he's the one whose drawn the short straw.

How is Beckett holding up?

It's hard to see your heroes fall.

He answers Ryan quietly, and she knows he knows everything. She blazes up for an instant. She wants to scream at him—scream at them all—that Castle isn’t some kind of authority on Kate Beckett.

But he is. He's written the book on her, after all, and he does know. And what’s worse, she’s glad. She’s undeniably glad to know she hadn't fooled him in the least by switching it off. Pretending to switch it off.

Did I keep him on long enough?

She’s glad he sees through her.

He takes her on a treasure hunt. Of course he does. He soothes her heart by engaging her mind. Or he tries to, anyway, and isn’t this how they work? Aren’t these the corners they retreat to, every time? He’s side-by-side with her through the solve—through the snipping of the case’s last loose end, and he takes her on a treasure hunt.  

Of course he does.

The question is why she goes along. She should’ve told him no. Her mouth is still crowded with the hundred reasons she could have given him. Should have given him, starting with the summer. Starting with his ex-wife and  Royce. Fucking Royce, and the fact that she's not even surprised, or she shouldn't be, anyway.

She feels bruised by it all. By the hundred reasons she has for not going on a late-night treasure hunt with him. For not being charmed by his giddy excitement. For not being charmed by him or anyone at all, because she has rotten fucking judgement.

So why did she go along? She doesn’t have an answer. Not one that bears examination. She wants to be alone. Sincerely wants that, still, and maybe this is nothing more than falling forward. Maybe he just happens to be there, and any second she’ll come to her senses.

She hasn’t yet, though. She's followed him through a maze of stagnant angels and moldering scrollwork. In and out of limestone shapes, stained green and looming in the shadows. She’s fallen forward until now.

“Why is this so hard?” he gasps. "I mean, six feet under? Isn't that excessive?” He plants his short-handled shovel in the turf. He leans on it and swipes the back of his hand across his brow.

She ignores him. It’s theater, mostly. She's been doing the heavy lifting. Literal, anyway. She’s been the one setting the blade of her shovel to sod. Setting metal to earth, over and over and over.

They’re knee deep, an she ignores him as he natters on about surviving the Zombie Apocalypse and appreciating the head start. When he moves another shovelful or two, then stops again. She ignores him until his hand is on her back. His fingers are prying hers from around the shovel.

“How about a break,” he says. He sounds strange. He looks strange. “Beckett, you hands, they’re . . .”

“Fine,” she snaps. She jerks the shovel savagely from his grasp. “My hands are fine.”

But they’re not. They’re blistered and bleeding. She’s sore and miserable and drenched in sweat. She’s fucking determined, and he’s hovering. He’s trying to reason with her.

“Kate, let me . . .”

“I’m fine.”

She’s flat out yelling now, and there’s a part of her that’s horrified. A part of her that’s already embarrassed, regretful, sheepish, abashed and a hundred other things. There’s a part of her that really is over all the things she’s pretending to be over, but most of her is digging.

And then she’s not.

Then the blade hits something solid and the impact judders through her frame. It sends a shockwave up and out that clacks her teeth and makes her ears ring. It sends her sprawling and him right after her.

“Beckett!”

He snatches at her. He snags a fistful of her shirt and keeps her from tumbling headlong into the split-open, rotting wood. Headlong into a fucking B-movie pile of shimmering gems. He keeps her from falling entirely, but he goes to one knee, sagging against the crumbling dirt wall. She ends up in his arms, sobbing. Filthy, sweaty, bleeding and sobbing, absolutely wordlessly.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says as he holds her. “Kate. I’m so sorry.”

[kayleighhalliday2203]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con Summary:

Inga woke up on the edge of a forest, a forest filled with sickness and decay. She knows they are being watched, she knows they are being followed.

*A little something I came up with, let me know what you think and if you like it, I'll continue it* *Rating may change as the story develops*

[othercat2]

Re: Log: Day 56 (Thursday, August 20, 1925)

mr-junes said: Yay! I was hoping you keep going with this! I like how Aion is like, ‘why would a horrible trauma that i repressed for year make me freak out??? that guy must’ve made me do it.’

@mr-junes There are likely to be longish gaps between chapters because of other projects in other fandoms. Specifically Homestuck. But I full intend to continue this fic!

Aion is extremely unaware of his trauma or his general state of being actually mentally ill! The only person who is most likely aware of this (and isn’t in a coma) is Shader, and she is also mentally ill for more or less the same reason ALL the Sinners were mentally ill. Also, it seems to be indicated in canon that demons are able to project uneasiness/fear/dread, so that would probably be something Aion would immediately suspect, rather than go “this is because something horrible happened to me years ago and the nice comfortable mental insulation is beginning to wear away because it’s no longer an effective coping mechanism.” 

[hipless-please]

Chapter 4

Bailee’s P.O.V.

Oh my god. I’m really in Niall Horan’s hotel room… changing into his t-shirt. 

I ruffled my hair, trying to look as presentable as possible before opening the door and stepping out to the hallway.

Niall was standing by the couch and his eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of me, then he sat down clumsily.  I dropped my things on the floor and walked over to the couch, sitting next to him. Was this okay? Was it appropriate?

“You okay?” He interrupted my train of thought, and I nodded quickly.

“Still in shock I guess.” 

I leaned back slowly, the pillows enclosing me in their softness.  Suddenly I noticed Niall turn his head sharply away from me and he grabbed a pillow, placing it in his lap. But not before I noticed the rising in his jeans.

“Wow Niall…” I whispered and he let his head fall back, groaning.

I tried hard not to laugh, but it was no use. A small giggle escaped my lips and I covered my mouth with my hand.

He lifted his head, glaring over at me. I looked back at him innocently.

“Do you want me to change back?” I asked. 

“No.” He responded almost to quickly and he tossed me a blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa.

“Just cover your pins love. You know how long I’ve been single and I really haven’t been with anyone in quite some time.” 

I laughed again, louder this time while folding the blanket over my legs that were now curled up against my chest.

“That surprises me.” 

“Really? Why is that?” He turned his body to face me, the pillow still covering him. 

I shrugged, almost feeling embarrassed at having to answer this.

“You… You’re perfect Niall. I’m surprised some great girl hasn’t snatched you up yet. In all honesty… The rumors about Demi crushed me. I thought you really were with her.” I looked down at my knees, fumbling with the yarn on the blanket.

Suddenly, he was tilting my head up to look at him by placing two fingers under my chin, his face inches from mine.

“Demi’s a great girl. She really is, but after getting to know her… I just don’t think we’re right for each other. Not to mention I really don’t want to be with someone famous. I want to be with a girl I can spend all my free time with. Someone I can spoil with things she isn’t used to and would truly appreciate.”

I nodded slowly, my heart beginning to race. He was single. 

His fingers slipped from my chin to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. I smiled slightly, glaring into his beautiful baby blue eyes. 

“Bailee… can I ask you something?”

Oh god. 

“Uhm… yes, Niall?”

“Feel free to say no but uh… could I maybe.. Kiss you?” He raised one corner of his mouth into a cheeky grin, the most innocent look in his eyes. How could I say no…

“Yes…” I whispered already inching closer to him..

His fingers trailed down my jaw and he cupped my cheek in his hand, his other hand groping for mine.

My eye lids fluttered closed when I felt his hot breath on my lips, then the entire world seemed to dissolve around us. Our lips connected and it felt like an electric current running through my body. His lips were soft and tender against my own and it felt so good to kiss him I began to shake. He pulled back slowly and I opened my eyes.

“Are you alright?” He looked concerned.

I nodded. “That was…. Wow.” I bit my bottom lip and he chuckled.

“That was most definitely wow. I’m speechless.”

We sat there for a moment just staring into each others eyes before he spoke again.

“Please tell me I can see you again.” He squeezed my fingers tenderly.

“I’d really like that.” I smiled, completely enveloped in the feelings that I was already feeling for this boy.