Round 2 is closed.

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Comments

Not a Cat

[(Anonymous)]

Somebody who knows animals (I...have no idea who this might be. Ivy, maybe?) meets Mister and goes, "Um, that's not Felis catus..." Up to you what he actually is, though.

This prompt is long and not original, but....

[(Anonymous)]

So 2 prompts (or a big one, if you like).

1. The old genderswitch kink. Harry gets turned into a woman. He'll change back only if he sleeps with Marcone. His answers to this is 'No #%$^%# way in hell!'. He'd rather be a girl for the rest of his life. Only a) the curse has an added compulsion to find Marcone and shag him senseless or b) after a couple of drinks he stops caring he's the mob boss. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't change back right away. He'll have to wait NINE months. He's lucky like that. :) BONUS: John has no idea it's Harry. He just likes them tall, dark and mouthy. (Poor Hendricks likes to roll his eyes at his oblivious boss.) ;)

If you throw in some hot, rough sex up against a wall, I will worship the ground you walk on. :)

2) Harry had a secret love child of Marcone, but has no intentions of telling the other daddy about the happy news. He avoids him like plague. Only the kid gets kidnapped by some evil what/who-ever and poor Harry has no choice but to ask Marcone for help in exchange for . Only Marcone wants Harry to sign The Contract. Even though Harry's ready to do it, he has to be stubborn about it. They argue and Harry (because he's not hot tempered at all) shouts something along the lines of 'It's your kid too, you scumbag!' Cue shocked silence. :) The rest up to you, but maybe... Hendricks almost haz a kitten upon (over)hearing? the news? :P

...

Plizz... Someone? :)

Re: Not a Cat

[(Anonymous)]

I was just thinking that, as much as I love the idea that Mister is just an entirely unmagical cat (because cats are like that anyway), it's perfectly logical that he's some sort of changeling of a Malk. Possibly a son or grandson of Grimalkin.

Fill: Fortuitus Familia 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Dresden." I put my best professional, phone voice on at the office. It was a compromise between my usual surliness and the 'phone voice' that Billy had jokingly suggested one time after a good long game of Arcanos and a few drinks. Billy was no longer allowed to play bartender during our get togethers.

"I've got a case for you."

"And a good afternoon to you too, Murph." I twirled my pen around, idly. I'd been filling out a report from my last case. Paper work. I was pretty sure it was necessary, but it was also totally boring.

"Harry." Her exasperated sigh was nearly lost to the crackle of static over the phone line. "It's a freaky one, okay?" I gave her my own sigh. They were always freaky when I got called in.

"Where do you need me?" Murphy gave me the address. It was in the suburbs, not more than ten minutes from Michael's house.

"I'm on my way."

~

It was a cute house and had that lived in look to it. Toys in the front yard, chalk art on the drive and the walk. Neat, but chaotic. A family home. Murphy didn't look out of place, standing on the porch waiting for me. I mean, unless you knew her and knew what she did for a living. Then she looked frighteningly out of place.

"Hey." Murphy nodded at me as I stepped up to join her in the shade.

"Hey Harry."

"So what've we got?" I glanced around. It was just her. Rawlins was still in the car. He waved and went back to whatever he was reading. There was no forensics van, no black and whites, nothing.

"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe something from your side of things. CPD got a call this morning from a Mrs. James Tuck. Mrs. Tuck reported that her twelve year old son had gone missing. Officers responded and found Mrs. Tuck and her husband. They also found all three of the Tuck children. Including twelve year old Josh. Mrs. Tuck insists that Josh is not Josh. It's just something that looks like Josh. The call got booted over to SI."

"Uh, I hate to tell you your business, Murph, but did you consider she might just be off her rocker?"

"Yes. I did. But-" She held up one hand, palm up. "There's something off here. I can't put my finger on it, but honest to God, the kid gives me the creeps. And I've learned not to ignore those feelings."

"So you want me to check the kid out."

"Yeah."

"I can do that, no problem. Lead on, Toto." Murphy smacked a hand at me, not hard. More of a playful slap. I turned to catch it on my arm rather than in the stomach. I mean, it probably wouldn't hurt anything, but. But. I was suddenly paranoid. I guess I really did need to read one of those books Ellie suggested. Murph gave me a look and then led the way into the house.

The parents were sitting on the couch, waiting. Murphy made introductions but kept it brief. We all wanted to get to the bottom of this. If there was any 'this' to get to the bottom of.

"Josh's room is the last one on the left, Harry." Murphy nodded her head at the hall and I gave her a small thumbs up sign. She kept the parents busy while I headed down the hall to get a look at the kid. The rest of the house matched the lawn and the living room. Clean, neat and lived in. It was just a real comfortable place. Either way this fell out - if the kid was a shape shifter or if the mother had slipped a cog it was a tragedy. I hated to see normal peoples lives ripped apart.

I knocked on the door and received a grunt that I took for 'come on in'. So I did.

It was a typical boys room, or at least it looked like the few I'd seen lately. Messy and probably more than a little dirty under the layer of clothes and sports equipment. Josh had a thing for Legos. He had more than a dozen of the kits put together and on display all around the room.The boy in question was seated at a small desk, putting another set together.

"Hi, Josh." He didn't look up. Didn't make a sound. Just put another couple of blocks together, checking his work against the picture on the box. I moved closer to him, circling to come into his line of sight. Still no reaction. I started to get what Murphy meant - he was more than a little creepy. Nothing exactly wrong with him, but definitely something off.

I crouched down in front of him, trying to get a good look at him if I couldn't get his attention and he suddenly looked up, met my eyes straight on. Before I could look away, I felt the bottom drop out of reality and fell forward into his pale blue eyes.

It was his room, and Josh was still sitting there, putting Legos together. But there was a faint smell in the air, something rotten, dead and vile. A white haze, misty, drifted through the air and I heard a song, sung in childrens' voices fade in and out on the breeze.

"First you're sick and then you're worse, and then it's time to call the hearse..."

I knew this one. Every kid did. I found myself almost humming along to it, an old, sad feeling slipping into me. I could see Josh's lips moving along in time to the rhyme, silently.

There was something there. Curled in his black hair, nearly invisible behind one ear. I leaned forward, tried to grasp it and it moved, turned on me and lunged, quick as a snake. I jerked back, fell, and felt the soulgaze break.

"The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout!"

I fell backwards in reality, which is what kept the thing that shot out of Josh's mouth from hitting me in the face. My ass hit the carpet and I rolled, narrowly missing smacking my head into the frame of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I felt under my hand, rolled to my knees and smacked whatever I was holding down as the long black blur came at me over the floor.

There was a thick 'squoosh' sound along with a little crunching and black goo oozed out from around the American history book I'd grabbed.

"Ew." I pried up the edge of the book. Whatever it had been it was mush now. Slimy and black, with pieces of what looked like insect exoskeleton crushed and cracked through it. As I watched it started to dissolve, going clear and then vaporizing. Ectoplasm. I looked up at Josh. He was down, flat on his desk, passed out. I dropped the book again, let the construct dissolve on it's own and pulled myself up to check on him. He was okay. Pulse and breathing steady.

I backed out of the room and shut the door behind myself.

"Hey Murphy?" She came down the hall toward me. Quick, but not hurried. Didn't want to alarm the parents.

"Yeah?"

"I got it. Have a look." Murphy opened the door and looked in. "Creepy vibe?"

"Gone. So is this their son, or what?"

"He is. He was before too, but he had a Khan worm in his head. I smashed it."

"A what?" I shrugged.

"Brain worm. From the Nevernever."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, don't look at me. I've never seen one before, but that's what it looked like!"

"How'd it get inside the kid?"

"Don't know. I'll look into it Murph. Like I said, it's new to me. But I'll find out what it was."

"Let me know?"

"'Course."

Murphy spoke with the parents, gave them some sort of edited version of the whole 'brain worm' story and we left. Rawlins started up the car as we came out.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" I glanced back at Murph from beside the Beetle.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. I dodged the Khan worm just fine."

"You flinched earlier. On the porch."

"Eh?" Duh, Harry. Duh. Murphy's kind of observant, remember? "Oh. Yeah. No. It's nothing. Just a little sore from sparring with Thomas. No biggie!" She didn't look convinced, but I jumped into my car and drove away before she could say anything else.

Crap. Okay, I knew I was going to have to tell people eventually. The problem with Murphy was going to be telling her who the father was.

I'd sort of neglected to mention to Murph that I was seeing Marcone for, oh, the past three years or so.

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

They're just playing around with the idea, really. But they each have their own preference. :)

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

The facepalming will be epic.

The one I really want to write, though, is Eb.

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

'Boring'? Neither one of them know the meaning of the word! Not in any practical sense anyway...

Dirty Money

[(Anonymous)]

At some point in Small Favor, John Marcone did touch one of the Blackened Denarii, and ever since then, he's had the shadow of a Fallen sharing his head. (Which may explain why he's been more restrained that usual around Dresden since then, if he's trying to hide the presence of a fallen angel.)

Maybe he took Thorned Namshiel after all, or maybe Nicodemus had a few extra coins held in reserve, ones that the Knights thought were safely tucked away in secure storage. (If you want to be really fun, you could say that Lasciel's coin had made its way back to Nicodemus already, and Marcone got his own Lash. Especially if he manages to break her even faster than Harry did.)

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Star Trek reference! Observant Murphy! Protective-avoiding Harry! *does happy dance*

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 3/?

[samjohnsson]

My god, the Trek reference is so in character for Harry! And yeah, Murphy is going to (rightly) flip the * out, as it puts every case Harry's assisted on as questionable.

femdom threesome

[(Anonymous)]

I’d really like to see Harry in a threesome, with two powerful women, taking directions and maybe even begging a bit.
Examples:
Lea/Harry/Mab
Gard/Harry/Murphy
Maeve/Harry/Lily
Really any two awesome powerful chicks! There are plenty to choose from. I just want to see the ladies dominating Harry and leaving him overwhelmed and completely exhausted.

Re: femdom threesome

[(Anonymous)]

Maeve/Harry/Lily

HUMINA HUMINA.

Batman

[(Anonymous)]

As it has already been pointed out, Marcone is Batman.
Not only because he's so badass even though he's a vanilla mortal, but also :
- he loves Chicago as much as Batman loves Gotham
- The Mission always goes first
- he always has a plan for everything and a contingency plan for the contingency plan of his contigency plan
- lot of money
- files on everybody and everything
- the kid policy
-...

SO I need an AU where after being traumatized by some awful event in his life, instead of turning the big bad mobster ruler of Chicago, he became the goddamn Batman.
Other characters are author's choice (Hendricks can be Alfred or Robin, Dresden can be Zatana (they have the same father after all), Murphy as Gordon, etc...)

PS : sorry for any English mistakes, I'm not a native speaker

Other fill: Sickbed Entertainment

[kjollar]

(The title is not as naughty as some of you must have thought:))
For the longest time I had his image of Harry writing up his cases while recuperating from his latest confrontation with supernatural. And so when I saw this prompt I just couldn’t resist although it’s not exactly what OP had in mind.
Hope the first author!anon isn’t offended by my butting in.

---

It was nighttime and the hospital was mostly quiet. That is, if you don’t take into account the rhythmical clank-clank of my typewriter. It was modern and sleek but still mostly mechanical so I didn’t have to fear that it would spontaneously die on me in the most intense part of the narration.

So there I was, contentedly typing away and not paying much attention to the outside world.

“What are you doing?”

I froze. Then I slowly turned to the door of my room.

John Marcone stood there in all his hospital-pajamas-clad glory and smirked for all he was worth. The image wasn’t marred in the slightest by patches of pinky new skin left by healing chilblains and a bandage over his left ear.

I felt my cheeks heating up a bit. I was caught with a hand in a proverbial cookie jar… or in proverbial pants, as far as embarrassment levels go. The bastard was literally dripping smugness, his mafia-senses clearly detecting potential blackmail material.

“I’m typing?” I decided to play the idiot card. Stars, how could I forget that he was right down the corridor from me? In my defense I could say that Marcone generally escaped most of the damage so he only briefly visited me on my sickbed between various meetings dealing with collateral damage of my latest escapade.

“I see that,” he sauntered in and plopped down on the edge of my bed completely disregarding the chair and any notion of personal space. “I’m curious about the content.”

“Oh, it’s just the draft of my memoirs,” I put my bullshitting cap on, “to pass the time, you know.”

“I see,” the drawled, “so that future generations could admire your unfailing bravery and sparkling wit.”

“Shut up, scumbag,” I muttered petulantly.

John just hummed noncommittally and stretched his hand over my knees to a stack of already completed pages. I lunged for his wrist but was unfortunately hindered by the typewriter still sitting in my lap.

“The Dresden Files?” his voice was full of mirth. “So you have a different name in your memoirs?”

“All right, you caught me!” I exclaimed folding my arms. “I’m writing a book. Happy now?”

“Very. And I see it’s not a recent development either,” he commented noticing a damning number 10 after the title.

“Haven’t you ever heard of…” I stumbled over words for a second, “my work before?”

“Sorry. You know I don’t have time for reading fiction considering that most of the time I feel like I’m living it.”

“And my daily pursuits are not interesting enough for you to follow anymore?” No matter the circumstances my primary way of reacting stayed the same – sarcasm and banter.

“Are you accusing me of negligence?” John caught on, playing at affront.

“Yes, I am clearly not worth the effort anymore. That would be the lesson to me,” I nodded wisely, “never stop resisting the Baron’s advances, or you’ll be taken for granted.”

“I see I was remiss in showing my appreciation,” John purred seductively, leaning closer. His hand sneaked up to my throat, “let me remedy that…” and he guided my head into a kiss.

His lips were chapped and forceful, massaging mine and demanding an entrance. Despite my previous words I was not offering any resistance; I invited him it gladly, tangling my tongue with his in a sensual dance. He issued a quiet hungry sound that went straight to my cock and I yanked him closer wishing for his body to cover mine completely and demonstrate the extent of his… appreciation for me.

The movement unfortunately jolted several of my injuries. John, who never had trouble distinguishing my pleasured groans form the pained ones, backed off immediately though I wasn’t all that willing to let him go.

“No need to start what we obviously won’t be able to finish,” he said a bit hoarsely lifting my hands from his shoulders and lowering them to the bedspread after placing a small kiss on the knuckles of each one. There was definitely something gentlemanly in him… (A certain tightness between my legs argued that it won’t hurt either of us if he were less of a gentleman sometimes.)

John shifted his gaze from my (slightly) disappointed face to the typewritten pages that he somehow managed to move to the bedside table before the kiss. “Now. Since I have an opportunity I can check your book out, if you like.”

That wasn’t really a question and I was sure he wouldn’t return the draft even if I begged for it. So I took it like a man, waving indulgently as if him reading my work didn’t bother me in the slightest.

Several minutes were spent in compete silence. John was – or pretended to be – engrossed in the story while I tried to gauge his reaction from the expression of his face. Predictably, it revealed exactly nothing – you can’t rise to the top of the Outfit without developing an impenetrable poker face. In the end I gave up and returned to typing because, you know, staring at someone’s face can hold your interest only that long even if the person in question is one of your nearest and dearest. My nervousness faded with every typed letter and soon I was back in the thick of things.

I returned to the present when the freshly finished page was plucked from my typewriter and placed on top of the stack. I watched as Marcone read it over quickly and raised his eyes to mine.

“Did you really have that much trouble while searching for me?” The displeasure was clear in his tone.

I gave him a rundown of the events leading to his rescue on our way to his private hospital but now he apparently thought I’ve been holding back on the gruesome details.

“That’s an embellished version,” I hurried to reassure. “The more I get beat up the better; readers just eat it up… or so I’m told.”

“Really?” Marcone was obviously not convinced. I had a premonition of 24/7 surveillance in the foreseeable future. “I’ve also noticed a certain… reluctance to come to my aid,” he accused.

“That bit has no basis in reality whatsoever!” I stated earnestly. “You know I’m always ready to get your ass out of danger.”

“M-hm. You don’t even work for me.”

“Look, I just decided that my character needs to have more rigid moral principles,” I explained. “So he rejected your advances. It’s not very thrilling to read that the protagonist has a squad of hitters on his beck and call to help him solve most of his problems.”

“You’re using my real name.” The tone went absolutely flat. Shit.

“On one knows it anyway,” I tried for nonchalance, “even your alias isn’t common knowledge. Is it really a problem for you?”

His eyes – whose color I extolled at length in most of my books – lowered to the stack of papers again and he frowned minutely. I had a minor epiphany.

“Come on, John, it’s not like I’m writing my secret diaries here! These are not my deeply hidden desires or anything – it’s just fiction. Every time I’m thinking up new and creative ways to land my character in deep shit I mentally pat my back for having enough brains to accept your offer when you first made it.” Stars, I never thought I’d have to reassure him of my desire to stay by his side.

I never thought he’s capable of having doubts of that at all…

“How did you start writing?” The question was simply worded – a sure sign that Marcone was a bit shaken.

“Well, at first it was just a way to escape boredom,” I was glad for the change of topic myself – as much love and affection as I held for John, I was crap at expressing it. “At the end of the day, when good prevails over evil and the baddie of the month is dealt with I always seem to land in a hospital with nothing to do while your torturers – I mean, doctors – prattle on about bed rest and recuperation. So after that whole Victor Sells fiasco I took up the pen… getting it all on paper actually helped me put everything into perspective,” I confessed. “But then one of the nurses found my notebook while changing the sheets and asked me if I was a writer. One thing let to another and I ended up sending it to the publishers. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Marcone shook his head with a smile.

“Am I to understand that you books are popular?”

“I guess,” I scratched my head awkwardly, “at least, they regularly extend my contract.”

“And there is no shortage of new story lines either,” he mused.

I scowled; despite our lighthearted chatter I would have happily lived without the latest plot development – those few days of not knowing if John was even alive would haunt me for years to come.

“Does anyone know of your hobby?” he obviously felt the drop of my mood and hurried to change the topic.

“I doubt it; people involved in supernatural affairs tend to skip the fiction section in the bookstore, to say nothing of the Sidhe courts. Though…” I paused for a moment, “I suspect that Hendricks knows.”

“Why?”

“Recently he acquired this annoying habit of growling at me when no one is listening…” Marcone raised a questioning eyebrow. “I maybe happened to call him Cujo once or twice in the series,” I admitted sheepishly.

“You’re incorrigible.” There was a definite note of affection in his voice. “What do you call me then?”

“You’ll have to read the books to find out,” I replied cheekily, my previous embarrassment long forgotten. “One hint though: I still use my favorite pet-name.” That earned me a chuckle.

Then John unexpectedly got up from the bed and turned to the door.

“Hey, where’re you going?” I pouted.

“Well, since I have a lot of free time to kill I might as well look your masterpieces up,” he smirked returning his gaze to me, “though I have to stay in my room if I want my laptop to survive long enough to read them,” he nodded to himself.

I smiled at him. We both knew that he was far from idle even while staying in the hospital. I felt pleased beyond words that he would take some time out of his busy schedule to read my silly stories just because it was me who wrote them.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I muttered coyly.

“Of course not.”

His mouth was still smirking when it met mine. Our kiss was almost chaste but it still encompassed all our feelings for each other – affection, devotion, possessiveness and so much more… No matter what Harry Dresden said to and about John Marcone I’ve long accepted the wonderful, complicated man behind the mask and never intended to surrender him to anyone or anything.

“Good night, John,” I whispered when we parted, looking deeply into his eyes, wanting to convey everything I wasn’t able to put to words.

“Good night, Jim,” his lips curled into a contented smile and I couldn’t resist pecking him one last time before letting him go.

I settled back on my pillows and poised my fingers over the keyboard.

Life was definitely so much better than fiction.

Re: Accountancy

[(Anonymous)]

Have you been reading my diary, anon?

I've been waiting for this prompt since the first book where Harry does mental math in John's caddy!

(frozen) You should have said something...

[(Anonymous)]

Any pairing acceptable. Preferred: Harry/John, Harry/Butters, Harry/Murphy

Harry discovers that [insert name here] was diagnosed with [insert disease here]. He feels horrible about it, and starts looking to make him/her more comfortable. [Sick!character] has lived with this illness for a long time, and brushes it off - yes, he/she is in pain, but it's been that way for so long that pain is normal.

Thing is, Harry discovers that [illness/disease] is actually something that is sort of like a curse - and curable by magic.

But the price of using magic like that? Is a bond that links the two of them together. [sick!character] would be 'borrowing' some of Harry's magic for the rest of his/her life to stay healthy, as something like a constant defense against the curse.

So here's the big question: can Harry deal with that? Can he go through with the cure? and if he does, will he tell the one he cures?

Alternately, you can focus on Harry discovering the illness to begin with - or on the cured character finding out about the bond.

sorry; long prompt is long and complicated.

Re: Other fill: Sickbed Entertainment

[(Anonymous)]

Hilarious. Sweet. Hot.

Re: Accountancy

[(Anonymous)]

Harry is so a math geek!

You know, it wouldn't even have to be an AU - just Harry is lurking in John's office, and happens to notice an irregularity in some paperwork which was lying around that everybody else missed, and John grabs him and squeezes him and refuses to let him go, because wizards, whatever, magic-users are a dime-a-dozen in Chicago these days, but someone who's a natural at accounting is priceless.

Re: Accountancy

[(Anonymous)]

I want!!!



....Please? With sugar on top?

Re: Johnny, Rahm and Harry [6, 7 & 8/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my god, I just realized, is Harry a virgin in this story? Haha, now I'm getting delicious images of Rahm and Marcone ...teaching Harry about naughty things XD

Bodyguard!John & Crew

[(Anonymous)]

Harry/John or Harry/Hendricks


Harry is a performer of some sort - actor, singer, whatever - and his agent (Murphy? Eb?) hires a private company for his security needs. The owner of the company and his chief security officer is John Marcone; most of his responsibilities get delegated to Hendricks while John stays with Harry as much as Harry will let him. When John's not around, Hendricks is.

Needless to say, Harry's girlfriend Susan isn't very happy about this.

(Yes, this is a break-up-with-Susan prompt, but please don't bash her - actually, if you can work in the kid somehow, I would love you. and yes, that was me attempting to be non-spoilery Make it sweet, but just not working. Because John is a jealous, jealous man and Harry isn't getting it, but Susan is - and she knows who Harry's subconsciously picking.)

Bonus if John still runs the mafia on the sly.

Re: Other fill: Sickbed Entertainment

[(Anonymous)]

Hey, I was just looking for noveling in a world where Harry was still a wizard. As far as I'm concerned, this fills the prompt. Deliciously. :D

Re: RPF

[(Anonymous)]

What if one of the things Bob does when he's let out of his skull, is to update all of his RPF. And it was a real pain for him to learn to type with cat paws.

OP Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Murphy is gonna flip. or have kittens. Or both at the same time. Either way, she's gonna be scary.

Claiming

[(Anonymous)]

Harry needs to mark John as his to keep competition away! I'm thinking slightly feral Harry under a spell/concussed or whatnot but anon can fiddle with circumstances. At the end I would like John to have a visible (magical?) indelible mark that announces Harry's ownership. Thanks muchly!