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This might help me re-kick start my cliche table fills.
1. genderswap (always opposite gender or magical, you pick)
2. bodyswap
3. drunk!fic
4. huddling for warmth
5. pretending to be married
6. secretly a virgin
7. amnesia
8. cross-dressing
9. forced to share a bed
10. truth or dare
11. historical AU
12. accidental-baby-acquisition
13. apocalypse fic
14. telepathy
15. High School / College AU
Pick a trope! Give me a fandom/pairing/verse! I'll tell you all about how it would go/write you a snippet/a bit of both!
1. genderswap (always opposite gender or magical, you pick)
2. bodyswap
3. drunk!fic
4. huddling for warmth
5. pretending to be married
6. secretly a virgin
7. amnesia
8. cross-dressing
9. forced to share a bed
10. truth or dare
11. historical AU
12. accidental-baby-acquisition
13. apocalypse fic
14. telepathy
15. High School / College AU
Pick a trope! Give me a fandom/pairing/verse! I'll tell you all about how it would go/write you a snippet/a bit of both!
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Just cause I've seen a few but not many and I think it's an interesting combination.
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I'm torn...
I can't decide between Bourne, Marta/Aaron or Avengers, Phil/Clint
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--
"I've already checked out your junk, it's totally fine," she says, Darcy's lazy, sexy smirk is on his own face which is just damn unsettling and... wait-
"What?"
"I'm surprised you've held out this long. They are fantastic," Darcy says with a grin, flailing a hand at Clint's borrowed chest. He's nearly pulling a muscle not looking down there because he's trying to respect her privacy while simultaneously being in her body.
"Go back to the part where you've-"
"I thought these would help, like, everyone else," Darcy says, changing the subject because she's evil. She slaps him on the chest, just above the swell of one boob and Clint now has to look down, sees one of those name labels they use at conventions.
Hi, My Name Is Clint, no really, stop laughing.
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<333
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I'd also be interested in telepathic!Stiles with Derek. *G*
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--
"Oh hey, this is, um..." Stiles is lost for words for once, but he wasn't exactly expecting to be tackled by Dee as soon as he entered the old Hale house. She's kind of crouching on his chest, fingers splayed over the wings of his collarbones and she's got this intent expression. "I didn't... have I done something?"
"Stiles?" Scott says, sounding like he's not sure whether he should be concerned or amused.
"Why do you... what is that?" Dee demands, curling down to press her nose into Stiles' neck and breathe deep. Stiles' toes curls. He's had dreams like this, except without Scott nervously hovering nearby.
"Oh, right! I didn't get to shower after practice. Sorry if I... oh, wow, inappropriate undressing!" Stiles yelps when Dee pushes his shirts up so they're bunched under his armpits. She now has her nose and open mouth against his sternum.
"I feel like I should be... somewhere else?" Scott says, now sounding extremely uncomfortable.
"No!" Stiles squeaks at the same time that Dee says, "Yeah."
"Boys are so lovely and pungent," Dee enthues against the skin of Stiles' torso. "Why do they mask it with chemicals." She rears back a little so she can pull a face, poking out her tongue and crossing her eyes. "Bleah."
Stiles should not find someone who can kill him so easily adorable. It really shouldn't be possible.
"How about we stop molesting Stiles, huh?" Scott says, finally scraping enough sense together to come to Stiles' rescue, just when Stiles was thinking that maybe he'd prefer Scott did make himself scarce. Scott's arms circle around Dee's middle and she's lifted off, grumbling as she goes.
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Also, wow, clearly no posting from a phone again. I am shocked you read through the many and varied typos :/
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--
Marta stops dead in the doorway. She'd been worried when she woke up and Aaron was gone from the bed but even more worried that the apartment had been silent. She's now biting down on her fist to not make any noise at the picture Aaron and Dean make, curled awkwardly together on Dean's tiny bed, both of them dead to the world and snoring.
She feels fierce all of a sudden, like the warrior Aaron had tried to assure her she was all those months ago. She hadn't been sure then but she was sure now.
She would do anything to keep these two safe. Anything.
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It's a pretty safe bet he's going to.
"I said no."
"It's not really up to you," Agent Fielding says, sounding impatient. "He's a national asset right now and-"
"He's an exhausted boy and I'm not going to let you hook him up to a bunch of... diodes or whatever and have him interrogate people for you."
"This is a matter of national security, McClane. I really don't think you understand just what you're standing in the way of. You've always been the one to take it upon yourself to save everyone else. Why is it different this time?"
"I am that guy, but he's not. He's seen enough to have nightmare for the rest of his life, I'm not letting you expose him to more."
"Well, as I said, it's not really up to you, or him for that matter. I've dispatched a team who will be there in thirty seconds. For once in your life, do the smart thing and don't stand in the way when they come."
"Fielding, you don't know me very well, do you?"
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... I can't believe I'm doing this /o\
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I'm kinda thinking there is Sookie!Stiles and that the only person he can't hear is Derek and it's a really nice change and a relief because Stiles tries to not listen to people but sometimes it's overwhelming and he hears inappropriate things. Derek isn't sure why Stiles is so damn irrisitable to not only him but a whole bunch of other supernatural creatures and he doesn't realize it's because Stiles has fae blood which is why his mother was killed because fae blood is pretty much supernatural creature!nip.
--
Stiles is at his desk and Derek is sprawled out on his bed behind and there's just... nothing. Blessed silence that Stiles even closes his eyes to absorb, breathing deep. "Don't fall asleep," Derek rumbles, not opening his own eyes. "You've got a concussion."
"I remember considering it was my head," Stiles says. "You're just being a bit of an unfair sleep tease."
"It's exhausting hauling your ass out of trouble," Derek says and then his eyes do slit open, gleam of gold-blue. His nostrils flare and he frowns. "Stop it."
"I'm not... I can't really control that," Stiles protests.
"I'm starting to not believe you," Derek huffs, flipping onto his belly so he can shove his face in Stiles' pillow. He jerks back abruptly and says, "God, do you have anything in your room that doesn't smell like you?"
"No?"
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