You may find things that haven't been archived yet at my lj under the Secret Window Tag
Secret Window Fanfic
Blind as a Bat [Mort, Chico] [R]
“Ya know,” he grunted, standing up and stretching, feeling like an old man as his bones cracked into place. “For someone who really doesn’t do his fair share of the work around here, you sure do judge a lot.”
Stop Thinking [Mort/Mort] [R to NC-17]
It’s still wrong. It’s psychotic, really. Everyone masturbates, sure. But not everyone is masturbated by their reflection after having argued with them for the past hour. While loathing them, and yet lusting for them at the same time. Not common practice, I don’t think. Not really what romance stories are made of either
Denial [Mort Rainey] [R]
That bed is not empty, I do not live by myself in some cabin in butt fucking Egypt where no one can find me but my own sadsack self. That fucking redneck hick rubbernecker asshole did not stick his grubby grimy greedyass fingers in my life and steal my god damned wife.
The Calm Before the Storm [Mort/Amy] [Amy/Ted] [R]
It was never dull, she’ll give it that much. It was good and it was great, and it was bad and it was horrible, but it was never dull. Mort was a mystery, and that’s what he wrote, and that’s what he knew. She never knew exactly what it was about him that attracted her, that drew her in, only that it did.
Seven Holy Virtues [Mort Rainey] [R]
Seven Holy Virtues / Seven Deadly Sins challenge: take a character, any fandom and write seven drabbles based on each of the seven virtues.
Sometimes All a Muse Needs is Sex [Mort/Amy] [R]
When Amy’s arms wrapped around his neck his fingers faltered on the keys, in the middle of typing out yet another variation. His mouth hung somewhere between a smile and a frown as he rolled his head to the side and grunted. “Amy, stop it. I‘m writing.”
A Day Late [Mort/Amy] [NC-17]
It’s been just over two months when Amy walks out of the house and sees Mort’s car parked down the street. She tries to tell herself it’s not his car, but she just knows, deep in her gut, that it is.
Shifted [Mort, Mort, Shooter] [R]
It's midnight on a Tuesday, and Mort's been asleep since seven. He lies motionless upstairs under too warm covers in the dead heat of July with a fan circling overhead that doesn't do nearly enough to dispel the stagnancy of the air in the cabin. His hours have always been fucked, but this is ridiculous.
Just Another Day [Mort][R]
“I don’t smoke ya know,” Mort said, gesturing to his cigarette as he crouched in front of his partner. “This is just… temporary. A fix, if you will.”
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