#auction fic

I debated putting an excerpt from the Lust Conquers All fic but instead I decided to put one from one of the things I haven’t mentioned anywhere before. This one’s from a (probably?) one or two shot wip set at the next team auction after the series ended and as always I haven’t edited anything yet

(Also trigger warning that it references Jamie’s trauma from his Amsterdam trip with his dad)

1. (Not A) Kissing Booth by VerdigrisSoup (@verdigrissoup)

Thanks in part to a certain double oh, Q Branch is horribly over budget, and is desperate for ways to get money back. R might just have an idea that's going to help, and Q is left with no better options.

~~~

bond dropping huge sums of money just to buy 2 hours of q’s time? yes.

2. A Season for Giving by dhampir72 (@dhampir72)

Q had never been the sort of person to look forward to the holidays, having spent most of his past Christmases alone. But this year was different. He had a wreath on his door and fairy lights in the window and James Bond in his bed.

He also somehow found himself being auctioned off for charity at the annual MI6 holiday party.

~~~

this is one of my fav 00q christmas fics! i adore moneypenny aiding bond in his schemes.

3. Mission to Sell by Venstar 

Q’s eyes closed and he listened to the two agents as they left the safety of the hotel room for the unknown risk of the auction. To sell, perchance to buy - ay, there’s that rub. For in that sell of death, what dreams may come? Q twisted the lines of Hamlet for his own purpose. Slowly he began to work at his bindings.

~~~

It's my New Year's Eve tradition! Squeaking in just under the wire with my @fandomtrumpshate auction fic!

Whispered in the Sound of Silence for @kalika999

Excerpt:

“Jesus, Derek.” Stiles takes a cautious step closer. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

Derek scowls. “I’m fine.” He stands up, dusting off his jeans.

Stiles digs his phone out of his pocket, waving it at Derek as if it’s Exhibit A. “The whole pack has been calling you all week, and —”

He looks up, and there’s something — off. Derek is staring at him intently, but not at his eyes. He’s watching his mouth, and Stiles has the sudden memory of his Babcia, the way she used to do the same thing when the batteries on her hearing aids —

Stiles bites his lip. Then he very deliberately covers his mouth with his hand. “You can’t hear me, can you?”

Derek’s brows furrow even more deeply for a moment, and then he drops the trowel, wiping his hands on his shirt. “I’m fine.”

Stiles huffs out an aggrieved sigh. He knows they’ve never quite clicked, that of all the pack members there’s always been this uneasy truce between himself and Derek, but he hadn’t realized that it was quite this bad.

He pulls out his phone. Yeah, not even close to what I asked, he texts. He waits for Derek to feel the vibration, fish his phone out of his pocket, and read the text.

Derek looks up, and it’s almost like he forgets to maintain the scowl for a moment. He just looks … lost. Vulnerable.

Stiles takes another step forward. This close he can see that Derek’s eyes are a little watery. His throat bobs as he swallows, and then looks back down at the phone.

You can’t hear *anything?* Stiles texts, and Derek’s shoulders slump. He slowly shakes his head.

Stiles is starting to put it together now, how strangely Derek was acting the other night.

Since Lydia screamed?, he texts.

I’m posting this later than I planned, because life was rude and threw my lovely plan out the window, but here! Have some feels-heavy kink in lieu of church.

Day 1 was included in my Friday Fic Update. I did 3,022 words on Taking Flight, and 1,088 for a Gift Fic. It helped that I participated in a Word Sprint with a NaNo group on Twitter, so thank goodness for challenges like that! I was at a bit of a slog for both fics, but I pushed through and found my rhythm eventually.

I am doing my best to get in bigger numbers now, because I know I’ll hit some road bumps this month, particularly that last week with the US holiday. So I’ve been plugging away whenever I get the chance to do so!

Today, I did 2,343 words on Taking Flight, and 1,092 words on my piece for the Mark Gatiss Birthday Auction. Both stories are coming easily right now, though I was writing piecemeal throughout the day.

Tomorrow I should have just enough time to write 1,667 words, but I’m not sure I’ll get beyond that. Busy day!

I hope all my fellow NaNoWriMo writers are comfortable with where they’re at! Good luck everyone!

Cheers,

Working on 2 timestamps, for 2 different fics.

Fic #1 (What Doesn't Kill You):

Eventually, Phil jerks his head up.  "For God's sake!" he snaps.  "I have never in my life seen two people have unresolved sexual tension AFTER they've started having sex.  Has it occurred to you two that this isn't working?  Or that you need to find a different approach?"

Clint's coffee cup is stopped - frozen - midway from the table to his mouth; beside him, Natasha's also gone still.

 Fic #2 (Falling Off the Face of the Earth):

When he steps into what looks like some kind of old laboratory, he doesn't see them right away.  But then he hears a small noise, like a boot scraping on the floor, and he turns and squints into a dim corner.  As his eyes adjust, he sees it's Bucky, sitting on the floor with a bleeding Clint in his arms.  He has one hand snaked protectively around Clint, the fingers of his hand resting gently on the pulse-point on Clint's neck, the other hand is shaking as it points a gun at Steve.

Big thanks to @fandomtrumpshate for running the auction again and to @alxdiamond for bidding on me!

The title comes from Sir Sly’s Witches

Summary: Ex-military Stiles Stilinski has found work as an assassin. He's good at his job and comes highly recommended, which is why it's a surprise for him when a woman claiming to be married to the prince of a tiny island nation hires him to follow her husband.Things are not as they seem, and Stiles just may not be able to complete this job.

Excerpt:

Stiles paused in the doorway, the bag from Andie’s Bar and Grill swinging from the crook of his arm.

The blonde currently in his chair smirked at him.

“Who are you?” he asked, pretending that it didn’t bother him that 1) she had obviously let herself in when he wasn’t here and 2) she had touched nearly everything in his office. Several knick-knacks were askew and out of place from where Stiles had left them.

“Kate Argent,” the blonde said, offering her hand in a way that was meant to force Stiles to kiss it. He ignored it in favor of putting his sandwich into the full sized refrigerator he used to store medicines and spare blood in case of emergencies.

“Argent,” Stiles said thoughtfully, still ignoring her outstretched hand.

Kate dropped it with a huff. “My father is the ambassador to Lýkos.”

“Oh yes, Gerard Argent. I know him.” Stiles perched on the edge of his desk and deliberately reached past her to pull out a binder with her father’s file. “Had me do a simple recon and then never paid me.” He snapped it shut. “Why should I help you?”

Kate smiled, pulling out an envelope folded over. She flipped it open to show him a stack of bills. “Is this incentive enough?” she asked.

Stiles feigned disinterest, but a quick peek revealed that there was more than his usual fee in there. Kate was posturing by paying Gerard’s bill.

“All I want you to do is follow someone,” Kate said. She dropped the envelope onto Stiles’ desk and stood up, smoothing down her pencil skirt and straightening her blazer. “The information is in the envelope. If you choose to accept the job, my number is in there. If you don’t take the job, I’ll be back in a few days to collect it.”

She left, the door slamming behind her.

Stiles waited a half an hour, during which he ate his lunch and checked his email, before he picked up the envelope. As promised, Kate’s phone number, a burner cell, was inside along with double his usual rate. She was serious about paying off her father’s debt.

Stiles tapped his fingers, deciding.

Money wasn’t tight right now because he’d just done a three-month job and his client was more reliable than Gerard, but a bit extra before he had to go underground again would be nice.

He sighed, jumping up to pace. Pacing helped with things. So did jerking off, but Stiles wasn’t particularly in the mood for that right now. A few minutes later, he was back at the desk, counting the money again.

Fifteen thousand.

All of Gerard’s payment and half of Kate’s. If Stiles took Kate’s job, he’d get the other half of payment after completion.

Stiles hated dealing with the Argents, but Kate seemed to be avoiding her father’s dickhead moves. Even if she screwed him, he still had fifteen thousand.

Stiles called her number.

“I’m taking it,” he said when she answered in a hushed whisper. Then, he hung up. Whatever else she needed to tell him, she could do at a later date.

Right now, it was best if they avoided each other for a few days.

Check out the rest of the story on AO3!

Sources:

1st Derek

1st Stiles

Kate

2nd Derek

2nd Stiles

Maria Hill stared blankly down at the folders in front of her, each one neatly labeled – and several inches thick.  Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at the man standing across the table from her.  “Why me?” she asked him.

 Nick Fury leaned forward, his hands on the table, and gave her a shark’s grin.  “Because Phil is still in the process of dying, and the Avengers are like toddlers. They need a new babysitter.”  He straightened up, moving his hands behind his back and standing at parade rest.  “That’s you.”

 “I’m overqualified,” Maria countered archly.

 Fury tipped his head to the side.  “I’ll give you a taser,” he offered.  “And permission to use it on Stark anytime you please.”

 Maria paused, seriously considering the offer for a moment before shaking her head.  “Sorry, sir.  You’re going to have to do better than that.”  As much as she’d probably enjoy tasing Stark when he got unruly – which would take him all of five seconds, she was sure – that alone wasn’t enough incentive for her to put up with watching over a bunch of superheroes.  Thor alone was enough to give her a headache, and Hawkeye and Black Widow were both clever and insubordinate, which made for a really, really bad combination.  Banner turned into a giant raging green monster when he got angry, and Stark was, well, Stark.  The only one of them who might be worth trying to wrangle was Captain America. And if half the intel SHIELD had on him was true, he’d probably smile and nod and agree with her orders, then turn around and do the exact opposite.  

 Fury was eyeing her in consternation, though she was pretty sure she detected a hint of amusement underneath his scowl.  “You’re ambitious, Maria,” he said somberly. “That’s why I like you.”  He steepled his hands in front of his mouth. “Which is why I will make you a deal. You take on the Avengers until Phil is back on his feet, and he will owe you a favor of his choosing.”