Yom Sheyni - Hate Turns to Love
Jul. 12th, 2010 02:06 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficGood morning/afternoon/evening. I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ryuutchi, and I'm this week's host. Today's theme is that old fic cliche: "hate turns to love". Strong emotions are easily warped into something new, aren't they?
Please remember to format your prompts correctly:
Smallville, Clark/Lex, after one too many science experiments
Supernatural, Lucifer/Gabriel, "I'm laughing too hard to be mad"
Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, Hardison hated mushrooms until he tried Eliot's cooking
You should know the rules by now, but if you don't, here they are:
ryuutchi, and I'm this week's host. Today's theme is that old fic cliche: "hate turns to love". Strong emotions are easily warped into something new, aren't they?Please remember to format your prompts correctly:
Smallville, Clark/Lex, after one too many science experiments
Supernatural, Lucifer/Gabriel, "I'm laughing too hard to be mad"
Leverage, Eliot/Hardison, Hardison hated mushrooms until he tried Eliot's cooking
You should know the rules by now, but if you don't, here they are:
- No more than three prompts per fandom.
- No more than five prompts at a time, though after you get one or more of your prompts filled, you are free to leave more.
- No spoilers in your prompts until a week after air date or publication.
- Warn for spoilers in your fic in bold and with at least three spaces above your fic.
If there's nothing here that catches your eye, feel free to go though our Lonely Prompts!
theme="HateTurnstoLove"
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 04:29 pm (UTC)When the smell of cooking attracted Hardison's attention, he looked up. Seeing Eliot in the kitchen, pans on the cooker, and cabin table laid had his stomach rumbling in response.
"Hey, Eliot, what'ch making?" Hardison asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"Chicken and Mushroom omelette..."
Hardison interupted, "No man, you can't, not mushroom!"
"What's the problem Hardison, just some fungi." Eliot smirked.
"No, I'm alergic. Like really. I get a rash, real bad." Hardison backed away from the kitchen.
"Ok, you don't like mushrooms, don't need to go inventing stuff," Eliot huffed.
"I'm telling the truth, my Nana had to take me to the doctor. Cleared out the surgery because they thought I had Scarlet Fever."
Eliot served up the chips, and just put the omelettes on the plates, scrowling at Hardison.
Hardison sighed. It wasn't bad, the alegy, when he was a kid. He would eat the damn mushrooms, anything to take the habitual scrowl off Eliot's face when he was looking at him.
Eliot watched Hardison wolf down the meal, a satisfied smile on his face. Hardison could never resist Eliot's cooking.
After Hardison, a little half heartedly, rewarded Eliot for his awesome skills with a blow job before bed, they both fell asleep. The next morning, when Hardison woke up without a rash he declaired that Eliot was his own personal doctor and this reward was wholehearted mindblowing sex.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:23 am (UTC)not fic but ...
Date: 2010-07-12 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:28 am (UTC)Re: Unfortunately no fic
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:35 am (UTC)No fic....but...
Date: 2010-07-12 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:38 am (UTC)The Gate's Keeper and His Soul
Date: 2010-07-12 05:08 pm (UTC)Crowley, the self declared King of the Crossroads. Dean couldn’t have hated the bastard more for just what he was. He was a demon who dealt years for souls. A demon who gave out prison sentences to Hell and he did it all with a wide smile and a kiss.
How they got to this point, when they got past hate and here? Dean wasn’t sure, it wasn’t supposed to be possible. They were supposed to be bitter enemies to the end. Dean was the one who got out and Crowley was the gate’s keeper. It was the natural order of things.
Maybe it was somewhere between Crowley crossing over to the light side, working with them or perhaps it was that twisted sense of humor and that laugh Crowley had. Whenever Crowley was in a room everything narrowed down to him and Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest for just a second before going back to normal.
What Dean was sure of at the moment was the fact that Crowley’s mouth felt good everywhere, even while he was down pushed and crowded tight against the back of a chair. Crowley knew where to kiss, bite, and soothe. He knew when to tear at their clothes and when to hand the reigns over; rarely.
Calloused hands gripping tight at his spiked hair, a grip tight enough Dean went limp against the grip and he felt Crowley marking him. Biting and bruising so everyone knew Dean was Crowley’s.
“You are mine.” Crowley spoke low and harsh against Dean’s swollen lips. Lust blown eyes met Crowley’s eyes and Dean’s swallowed down the rest of Crowley’s words in a wet kiss. His thumbs brushed down along Crowley’s sides. They pressed along the top of the demon’s slacks as Dean moved in to loosen the belt buckle against the roll and hitch of Crowley’s hips against his.
“Maybe,” Dean tore his mouth away from Crowley’s and the feral growl that left the demon’s lips, the fervor and bite of the next kisses were enough that Dean wanted out of the chair. He needed to move, to taste, and to take control.
The move was less than fluid and they grappled until Dean ended up straddling Crowley, holding Crowley’s arms to the floor above his head. Dean rolled his hips against Crowley’s and watched the way Crowley tilted his head to the side. Exposing a long line of neck and Dean let go of Crowley’s hands, resting his elbows on either side of the demon’s face as he leaned in a left a mark of his own.
Re: The Gate's Keeper and His Soul
From:Re: The Gate's Keeper and His Soul
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:38 am (UTC)No fic, but...
Date: 2010-07-12 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 11:50 am (UTC)Have to head to class, but yes. Well prompted
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:47 am (UTC)sixty-seven takes a job (1/1)
Date: 2010-07-12 07:32 pm (UTC)The Trickster's been working for the Angels for at least as long as Dean and his brother Sam have been in the employ of the Hunters, and he's a special thorn in Dean's side. The big bosses like to double-assign high profile jobs, often putting both a Hunter and an Angel on the case independent of each other. They lose men that way, sometimes, but the job always gets done. Dean, going by Sixty-Seven, got his first case solo of Sam "the Psychic" two years ago. He'd spent a week tracking the mark, learning his schedule, his weaknesses, his paranoias. Thirty minutes before his planned hit, he has to take a leak. He comes back to find the mark dead, strangled. A quick search through his pockets turns up everything that should be there, and one that shouldn't: a tootsie roll wrapper, crumpled loosely. The mark hadn't liked sweets.
From that point on, Dean's marks would turn up dead on an infuriatingly regular basis, and they would always always have the same wrapper tucked away on their person. It was embarrassing, and he was catching grief for it from the rest of the Hunters because an Angel kept swooping his scores. It got to the point where Dean was ready to put a round in the Trickster should they ever actually run into each other on a job.
Then he got the file for Mr. Nancy, photo not included. Known aliases: Loki, Coyote, Puck, the Trickster. Ex-Angel operative. Seems the guy had gotten fed up and tried to run--but not before wiping the Angels' data clear of any necessary identifying information.
Dean barely knows where to start, hunting down a rogue Angel. He sits on the stoop to the shit little first-floor apartment he's renting with Sam for the month, smoking a cigarette and squinting at the painfully sparse file spread across his knees. His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he fishes it out. Mike's Garage, the caller ID says.
"Fred Delaney," he barks.
"Hey there, Sixty-Seven," an unfamiliar voice drawls. "Heard you might be looking for me."
"Might be," Dean agrees warily. "How's life on the outside, Trickster?"
"Please, it's Gabriel now," the Trickster replies with a snort. "And it could be better. But hey, at least it's you they sent and not somebody actually dangerous, eh?"
"Listen, you bastard, I'm gonna find you, and when I do--"
"You're not gonna find me, champ. But tell you what--if you try hard enough, maybe I'll start treating you like a real threat and just off the Psychic as a warning."
Dean instinctively glances backward. Sam's silhouetted against the kitchen lights, making a late dinner for the two of them. An unreasonable rage boils up inside Dean. It's the worst thing that can happen when working a job, losing your cool. He can't help it, though--the Trickster's always brought it out in him. "You touch him and I swear to god..."
"You're already supposed to kill me. I'm not really afraid of your idle threats. Tell you what, though. You leave me alone, I leave Sam alone. Live and let live, eh, Dean?"
Dean tenses. The Trickster shouldn't know their names. The operative branches were separate from each other--no Angel should have personal intel on a Hunter.
The Trickster chuckles, but it's a dry sound, mirthless. "Think about it, okay?" Then there's silence as the connection is cut off.
Something brushes Dean's cheek, rolls down his shirtfront. He startles a bit, then picks it up from where it landed between his legs. A tootsie roll wrapper, just one. He throws a panicked glance over his shoulder, but Sam's still moving around the kitchen, oblivious. He looks up, and a dark figure waves at him briefly from a fire escape before vanishing into the building.
The hunt is on.
Re: sixty-seven takes a job (1/1)
From:Re: sixty-seven takes a job (1/1)
From:Re: sixty-seven takes a job (1/1)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-12 06:48 am (UTC)No fic (yet)
Date: 2010-07-12 11:35 am (UTC)Re: No fic (yet)
From:can i do this
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From:Probably won't do till tomorrow.
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-07-12 06:51 am (UTC)