dresden_kink | Round Four IS CLOSED

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round four

Round Four IS CLOSED

Round Four is closed to new prompts and fills. Go to Round Five

| Round One: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Two: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Three: open only for feedback and WIPs continuation |
| if you previously continued your WIP in The Overflow Post or Round Four, keep going where ever you like, just link link link! |

Round Four: Closed

Read this first. Do it. It's not here to be pretty.

The Rules. Including the Posting Guidelines. aka:

In the first line of your fill, please include:

Character(s)/Pairing(s)/Threesome(s)/Moresome(s) as applicable; Any kinks included; MANDATORY WARNINGS if there is dubcon or noncon, underage characters in sexual situations, and/or major character death. Please don't conflate warnings and kinks; treat each individually, and use your pairings to indicate gen/het/slash/multi/&c. Do not warn for het, slash, or otherwise.

For images: Please post image prompts and fills with alt tag descriptions or with a text description of the piece. Example: [img src="neked.jpg" alt="Here's John being all hot and half naked saying Dresden et cetera et cetera"]. If you are linking to an external image, please include a description with the link.

Thank you.

The discussion post is here. Mod questions go here. The delicious account is here.

Don't forget about all the unfilled prompts. Got an unfilled prompt you want to give a second chance? Repost it here. Otherwise, go ahead and repost an unfilled prompt as a new comment with a link to the original if you are filling it.

Comments in chronological order: http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/2675.html?view=flat

Any prompts, fills, discussion, or meta featuring authentic Ghost Story spoilers should be posted on the Ghost Story post.

ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS AND FILLS. GO TO ROUND FIVE. YOU CAN CONTINUE YOUR ROUND FOUR WIPS HERE.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, my god, I'm writing a Harlequin novel. This thing is not going to be over until Harry and Marcone have three adopted kids and Thomas has a daily noon group therapy meeting and is receiving professional help.
To everyone who's still reading: thank you so much for your wonderful comments, and for your unbelievable patience.

Thomas wasn't happy about being dropped off at the L.

"Let me put this in terms you can understand," he said. "This is a battle of wits, and you are bringing a knife to a game of Global Thermonuclear War. You don't know his plans or his motivations. In fact, all you know is that he's managed to fool both of us for months."

"He's not going to hurt me," I said. "Threaten me, maybe, but not hurt me. I know him, and it's not his style."

"Like you knew six hours ago that he had nothing to do with this?"

"You're probably right, and if I'm not back by morning, you have my permission to feel smug about it." I leaned over and shut the passenger door. "I'll call you, okay? Two hours, max. I'll be fine," I said through the window, and drove off. The beetle purred and obligingly slid into third gear. Thomas was right about one thing: having information made me feel calmer, even if I didn't have leverage or a plan or any understanding of what was going on beyond "Marcone is planning something weird."

Come to think of it, that describes my life on most days.

When I walked through the glass doors at Marcone's office, Hendricks and Gard were bent over the security monitor at the reception desk, their heads close together. Hendricks was grinning, and Gard was laughing in pure delight, deep and lovely. I cleared my throat, and they jerked away from each other, expressions going blank. A few tinny screams came from the speakers, followed by the muted sound of an explosion, until Hendricks, still expressionless, stabbed a button on the keyboard and the room descended into silence.

After an awkward moment, Hendricks hit another sequence of keys, and the elevator at the far end of the hall dinged and opened.

"Well?" he said. "The boss is upstairs."

I walked down the hallway, past six other elevators that stayed resolutely closed, before reaching the end. Before I could press the button for the 70th floor, the doors slid shut and the elevator began to rise. Hendricks is such a dick.

Until I stepped into Marcone's office, it hadn't even occurred to me that, at a quarter to midnight, it would have made more sense to look for him at home. He was still at his desk, though, with a stack of papers on his left hand, an empty glass in front of him, and a bottle of something dark and expensive-looking to his right.

"Harry!" he said, slapping both hands on the desk. "What brings you here tonight?" His voice was too loud in the silent office, bright and hard as a new coin, and his movements lacked their usual grace, as though his body were suddenly encountering forces like gravity and momentum that, before now, had only ever applied to other people. The bottle, I noticed, was nearly full. Marcone wasn't drunk; he was exhausted, and trying to hide it. Well, that made two of us.

"I want to know why you're doing this," I said.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Marcone said.

"You sent those tickets," I said. "And I'm guessing you sent all the other stuff, too."

"Again," Marcone said, and I could see him building a mental wall up right in front of me, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap, John," I said. "The ticket stub said February. That's a month before the summer season tickets even go on sale. And Thomas' wasn't bought until three o'clock this afternoon. I'm guessing there are twenty people who could wrangle that, and they're all major donors." Marcone leaned forward and I held a hand up. "And before you say anything, yes, that makes nineteen other suspects, plus entities with mind-control abilities, but why would anyone else bother?"

"Actually," Marcone said, "you have an inflated opinion of me. There are over a hundred individuals who have given more to the Adler than I have." He inhaled, was still for a moment, and switched strategies. "But, yes, I do have a certain number of tickets set aside for my employees and valued associates, and yes, I did provide two of those tickets to Mr. Raith. I confess. Did you enjoy yourselves?"

"No," I said. "No, we did not enjoy ourselves. Thomas is having a nervous breakdown because he thinks you're trying to blackmail us, which is at least better than when he thought you were trying to blow up our apartment building with a bomb hidden in a cat gym. Me, I don't know what to think."

Marcone froze. Not hesitated, not blinked, froze. "He discussed this with you?"

"What are you talking about? Yes, he discussed it with me."

"At what point did he--"

I held up a hand. "Answers," I said. "I want to know what was going on in that twisty little brain of yours. And I will know if you lie." I wasn't all that sure about the last one, but I was feeling confident, and I had to project confidence whether I felt it or not. Right now, I was like one of those tiny, yappy dogs who manages to intimidate pit bulls through sheer force of will. If I didn't keep it up, Marcone was going to figure out that he was twice my size and eat me.

"Very well," Marcone said, his lips thin. "What would you like to know?"

"Why?" I said. "Why send me all that stuff? And why pretend it was from Thomas? Was that some kind of insane mind-screw, or did you genuinely think that in three months I would never once talk to the guy I was sharing an apartment with?"

"Given what I know of your relationship," Marcone said, "I believed you would welcome gifts from Mr. Raith. And, given what I know of Mr. Raith, I was confident that he would simply take credit for anything that showed up with his name on it." Marcone's mouth twisted. "Unbelievably, I seem to have overestimated his intelligence."

I blinked. "So, you spend hours trawling through some flea market, or send some goon to do it for you, and then..."

"I did not go trawling through anywhere," Marcone said. "There's a wonderful invention called the internet, Dresden. It provides access to an amazing range of merchandise. Your pencil sharpener, for instance, was purchased on eBay." His tone was dismissive, but his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. So, less dismissive than defensive. I was getting pretty good at this.

"And again," I said, "Why?"

Marcone sighed. "You may be shocked to hear this," he said, "but pushing little old ladies down flights of stairs makes up, at a maximum, five percent of my day. Much of my time is taken up by meetings which require my presence but very little of my attention. So, occasionally, I browse various online auction and retail sites, and occasionally, I run across something you might find useful. People assume I'm taking notes."

"Wait," I said. "You did this because you were bored at work?"

He shrugged, which was conspicuously not an answer.

"Bullshit," I said. "If you're stuck in a meeting, you play minesweeper like everyone else. You don't send me packages with my boyfriend's name on them. You don't--"

"He doesn't value you." Marcone spat. "He flaunts his infidelities. He lives off of you like a parasite. You let him into your home, into your life, and he gives you nothing. If I had-" He stopped. His eyes had that same look of naked desperation that I remembered from the parking lot outside Amanda's hospital room.

Somewhere in the back of my head, a little voice was singing yes please yes yes THIS.

"So why not try to break us up?" I asked. "Why all the headgames?"

"You love him," Marcone said flatly. "You smile when you say his name. I've done evil things in my life, but I would not try to steal that from you."

I thought about how to respond to that. Then I remembered where thinking had got me over the past few months, and instead I walked around the desk, knelt so that we were eye-to-eye, and leaned in to kiss him.

Marcone shoved me back so hard I had to catch myself against one of the desk legs.

"I have no interest in being a pawn in whatever game you and Raith are playing with each other," he said. His face was dark with anger, but his voice was shaky. The lamp flickered, and I tried to shove my frustration down. Right; just because I'd had my earth-shattering moment of revelation didn't mean he'd had one too.

"We're not together," I said. His eyes narrowed. "We're just roommates. I only said that because I thought you were being a homophobic ass. I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry. Can please I touch you now?"

He took a moment to process that. The lamp began to buzz again. Stars and stones, why wasn't there a way to fast-forward through all this? I knew exactly what we should be doing right now, so why didn't he?

"If that's true, I'm sorry," he said, more softly, "but I'm not going to be your consolation prize." I was trying to seduce the most frustrating man on earth.

"I am not in love with Thomas," I said, and oh, shit, now he looked really angry. "John. I'm not. I swear I'm not." I knew I needed something more convincing, but it was hard to make words line up right when John Marcone was two feet away and I wanted my hands on him right-fucking-now. "He's" -- my brother -- "a vampire," I finished lamely.

"And I'm a thief and a murderer," John said. "Your point?"

I forced myself to sit back on my heels. The lamp was flickering wildly now, and I could hear the exit signs sparking and hissing in the hallway. "I love Thomas," I said. "But I'm not in love with him. He's a wonderful guy. He's a wonderful friend. But," he's my brother, but more importantly, "he's just -- He's Thomas. He's great, but he's kind of sleazy."

John studied me for a moment. Then, low, and intense, he said:

"I could not agree more."

And he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and leaned down to kiss me.

I blew out every light bulb in the building, but I didn't care.

----------------------------------------------
Author's note: For anyone who's interested, or needs something to cut the gallons and gallons of sap in this last installment, Hendricks and Gard are watching Existential Star Wars: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-uQWNd540I

OMG, OMG, Hendricks and Gard <3 <3 <3

And oh god, the mental image of Marcone pretending to be Seriously Taking Notes and actually surfing Ebay for R2D2 pencil sharpeners. Oh god. Dying here. eeeeee!

Aw man, that piggy bank is now lying in pieces next to an inconspicuous hammer, but this was totally worth it.

I'm still envious that I didn't come up with that mental image. It perfectly describes how I feel about this entire kinkmeme.

Okay, I just started reading this and it's AMAZING. Extremely funny, one of the only fics in the fandom that's made me laugh out loud several times. Great job, anon!

Wow, thank you!

I have no idea how many times I've read this, but I cooed every time. These two deserve each other.

D'awww.
Thank you, anon! I'm so glad you liked it.

Happy Sad Day!
Harry finally gets someone to do the romance part, but then John just shoves him away, thankfully by the end John gets Harry. Still that was kind of Amazing <3 ^___^

Thank you!

Love how Harry did everything he could to avoid the word "brother". I completely adore this anon :)

Thank you so much!

Yeah, this is such a romance novel, but in such a GOOD way! <3

I'm so glad you think so. Man, this and the next were the hardest @#$! part to write.

YAY. So much yay! Every time there's a new part of this, my day is made. And now, at last, the happy mushy bit. I especially love how Marcone insisted on EXPLANATIONS before kissing - very him. And shopping for stuff for Harry during boring meetings = <3333333!

Seriously, you have no idea how big the smile on my face is right now.

I tend to put off replying to comments because I am bad with distraction, but this seriously made me grin all day when I read it, so we're even.

*Now* this is me. And this is my face this morning: :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Now watch as I relentlessly bug you about the next part. You are going to wish you never admitted to reading this.

Considering that it made a crappy day much much better, I really doubt that.

I love your Harlequin novel!
My grin extends from Europe to Chicago and the mad giggling scared my husband away.

Thank you so much!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Round Four IS CLOSED

[FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 8/probably 10 (Dresden/Marcone)