the fanfiction of flyingtapes

“One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.”
–Oscar Wilde More… »

Everyone knows that Chris is a hard nut to crack. It seems like whenever someone good tries to take him on, he hunches down and becomes less of himself, so that all the things that people find attractive about him seem withered and dark in the light of this half-Chris. More… »

Warning for possible trigger for consent due to sex under the influence. (AU.)

She locked the bathroom door, wishing she had a chair she could shove under the doorknob like they did in movies, just to ensure that no one in the building would come in and see what she was doing. Slowly, she opened her purse, taking out the small box with its aggressive pink and black letters: results in less than three minutes, guaranteed. More… »

There’s a restaurant called Juliana on Peterson, out in the northwest end of the city where people commuting to and fro pass it everyday. It’s not much to look at during the day, but at night cars crowd the entrance and lines form outside, even on a Wednesday in the middle of Chicago heat. They talk about Juliana in Zagat’s and the restaurant magazines, as a tucked-away little place with just the right atmosphere to bring even the most stringent socialite out to the near-burbs. More… »

Christmas, for Lance, was not a time of snow. Mississippi, as a rule, did not have snow. There was rain, but no snow. Which was why Christmas in Miami wasn’t a huge stretch for him–still a little rain, but warm enough to run around in a polo and khakis. Not exactly the picture of a Christmas miracle, Miami. More… »

God, this house smelled like ass. More… »

“Did you get the cake?” Lance yelled down from their bedroom.

“Yes, I got it yesterday, how many times are you going to ask me?” Just shouted back at him, busy slicing tomato for their sandwiches. More… »

JC has his eyes closed, but Lance knows he’s not asleep. More… »

This is not an AU.

“Look, Slayer, I’ve had about enough of your shit. I’m going out of town, as it’s obvious you won’t accept help even when it’s shoved in your face. So if you’d kindly leave, I’ll pack my things and go,” Chris said angrily. More… »

Wednesdays were Joey days. No beautiful baby girl, no fiancée, no guys, no work, no nothing except him and a locked door. More… »