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greenishghostey · 2 years ago

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Dungeon Master meet Prop Master | part 1

Pairing: Eddie x Drama Club!reader

Summary: A D&D nerd and a drama geek finally cross paths in their little shared paradise realm - the drama storage room of Hawkins High School.

Warnings: None! Just a good, wholesome meet-cute. There is some suggestive language but nothing is graphic/explicit.

Word Count: 4,639 words (this took on a mind of its own super fast)

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a few fics floating around where the reader is part of the drama class but I hadn’t seen a fic where reader is more behind the scenes, thus spending a lot of time in the drama store room - aka The Hellfire Club room. Also, the official title of the person in charge of props is ‘The Prop Master’ so that worked too perfectly. I couldn’t not go down that route. I was a drama kid in high school so I am definitely projecting a bit but at least I’m being creative with it.

I would like to say a little thank you to @manicpixiedreamcurl , @punk-in-docs and @luveline whose works and amazing writing styles inspired me to get back into writing after a really really long spell of writer’s block.

/// Part 2

The best part of being in charge of the props and the set for the drama club was the fact that you got to keep the coveted storage closet key. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest honour to the others in your club, but that closet and the rehearsal room were your domain. It’s where all the stuff was, the mass of stuff you had accumulated since freshman year for the club. Miss Butler had told you just last week that the place was “starting to look like a dragon’s hoard,” she’d spoken with her usual encouraging smile, so it really lit a fire under your ass.

The rickety shelves were weighed down by stacks of old books you’d found in second-hand stores, some of which were actually pretty good - The Hobbit and the first three Oz books being your current favourites. The floor was cluttered with random small pieces of home decor you grabbed from yard sales around Hawkins - the old ladies of your neighbourhood had basically thrown the lamps, ornaments and doilies at you. There were a few pieces of large furniture that had been in the closet long before you were let loose in it - the usual set dressing stuff, small wooden desks, chairs, dusty rugs.

Your favourite piece that had greeted you as prop master was that big, ornate wooden chair - more like a throne - that you barely got to touch because the Dungeons and Dragons club’s leader had basically called permanent dibs. Eddie Munson was known to be a lot of things around the school and had been for what felt like forever. Freak, creep, cultist, asswipe - all the classics. However, to you, he was a chair hog, but that was about it. You’d never really put stock into the satan-murder-super-cult schtick that everyone and their mother spewed. He was the head of a roleplaying game club with its own fun little shirts, so how harmful could he be?

For how much time you spent building, fixing, or organising props in the theatre room, you would assume Eddie would have crossed your path much more. But you guys always seemed to miss each other, and he was hard to miss, even on a good day. Fridays were Hellfire Club nights, so you would always have to just head straight home after last period. The rest of the week was fair game, and he never dared to stay on school grounds longer than he had to. You’d seen him tearing out of the parking lot yesterday. He nearly rear-ended Carver’s car while blasting Mississippi Queen - part of you wished he had taken the back off of the jock’s car; Jason was a bitch.

It was Thursday, and you were perched by old plywood and canvas backdrops, surrounded by various shades of brown and grey paints - glasses on because this job was gonna require 20:20 vision or as close as you could get. Miss Butler wanted to direct a show-stopping production of The Crucible this year, so you were getting started on some very sad-looking colonial church backgrounds. The painting had always been one of your favourite parts of your role. Sure, brown and grey weren’t the most exciting colours ever, but you had to give yourself some credit; you really knew how to create faux, mouldy wood grain. Working in total silence just wasn’t gonna work, though, so you dug your cassette player and headphones from your backpack and welcomed the silky rasp of Patti Smith to accompany your Arthur Miller-ifying activities.

With ‘So You Want To Be’ blaring in your ears, you didn’t notice when the door to the theatre room was thrown open, and Hawkins High’s resident super senior rushed in.

Eddie quickly started busying himself with the usual Hellfire set dressings dotted around the room. He usually set up on Friday afternoon but had some “business transactions” to deal with before the weekend, so after-school Hellfire feng shui it was. Eddie had dumped his backpack against the plywood backdrops behind his throne and started rummaging through scraps of notes, general lint and some old food crumbs to find his good set of metal dice. They always sank right to the bottom of the bag just when he needed them.

A loud thud bellowed through the theatre room, quickly followed by Eddie’s voice cracking into a yell.

“Son of a-!”

You shot up from your spot and felt your eyes widen at the metalhead, who was currently hunched under a piece of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, “Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay? I am so so sorry!” you scrambled around the backdrops to heave up the fallen pieces. They weren’t heavy enough to do any damage, but you’d been nearly crushed by them plenty of times. Cardboard, canvas and plywood are a bitch.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Just dinted my spine is all.” Eddie groaned, rubbing his back and stretching like some old man. “Knew you guys hated me using this room but wasn’t expecting a full-on assault.” He actually looked like he might have been injured from the rogue Cathedral piece. Maybe you were just used to things falling on you or stabbing yourself with craft knives.

“Eddie, I’m really sorry. Do you want me to get some ice? The nurse might still be in her office, so I’ll run - I’ll be like 5 minutes, yeah?” You were scrambling for ways to make sure Eddie knew you were sorry. Rambling, really. God, you pride yourself on seeing past his mean and scary persona when others didn’t, but you’d gone and basically winded him with a church tower. Maybe if you took the hallways that the janitor had already mopped, you would be able to pick up speed and slide to the nurse’s office.

Eddie took notice of your frantic state, eyes shifting around the room and towards the door, shoulders bunched up - you looked like the really nervous stray cat, Frankie, that wandered around the trailer park. “Hey, hey. I was just messing with you, specs,” he chuckled lightly. It was a new experience for him to see someone, let alone a girl, get worked up on his behalf in any capacity. Usually, he’d get an insult at worst or a grimace at best. He stood up straight and did a small half-spin so you could see for yourself that he was, in fact, fine. “See, I’m a-okay. Little offended at getting smacked by a church, but hey, it was gonna happen eventually.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You huffed, a smile sliding across your lips, “fuck you, Munson, I thought I’d actually hurt you!” you swatted him with the paintbrush you’d put in your back pocket, a few specks of grey paint hitting his jeans. You turned to make sure everything was secured to avoid another workplace accident. Then, you heard him laugh, it was something between a snigger and a giggle, and it was actually kind of sort of cute. What fresh hell was this?

“Fuck you,” he said, in a high-pitch, mimicking voice - Eddie had jokes now. Brave of him. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I made you worry about little ol’ me.”

“Wasn’t worried. More frantic concern,” you tried to shrug off his playful comment. It did bring a little heat to your face, but he didn’t need to know that. “What are you doing in here today anyway? It’s Thursday; you’re a day early.”

“Ah yeah, well, I’ve got some important business to attend to tomorrow so…” his voice trailed off as he leaned against the edge of the long table. He could have just said drugs, you were quiet around school, sure, but you weren’t a total square. Possibly more of a square with rounded edges.

“By business, you mean weed?” You asked.

“Yeah, weed.” Huh, he sounded a little bit discouraged in his reply but quickly covered it with a chuckle and a smirk. Typical Munson. “You wanna buy or?”

“God, no. I mean, I'm not judging it, but it’s not really my thing. One of my friends said she’s gonna buy from you for Willis’ party on Saturday, though.” Penny had been raving about scoring some weed for that party since Monday. She’d only smoked a handful of times in her life, but the guy she had her eye on was like a chimney attached to a house on fire. His name was Chris or Keith or something that started with a ‘C’ or a ‘K’. All you knew is that he was a glorified benchwarmer for the basketball team and had ‘sexy’ hair - Penny’s words, not yours.

“Is that the redhead chick who makes you run lines at lunch when there’s a play? She’s bought from me before but didn’t know what papers or filters were.” He couldn’t hold back a snigger when remembering how he had to explain the fundamentals of a joint to the poor girl.

Eddie’s laugh was nice, you decided. You couldn’t find a word to describe it other than nice at that moment. Penny could take being thrown under the bus for a minute as long as you got to hear him laugh again. She’d made you read as Romeo one too many times, so, if anything, this was like karma.

Wait.

How did he know what you got up to at lunch? Penny was sometimes a little too loud when she got really into a monologue but you usually distracted yourself with your sandwich and soup when that happened. But Eddie had noticed. He had noticed the heavy-handed performance of your friend, but more importantly, he had noticed you. God, what if he had heard your crappy take on the witches from Macbeth? You’d done voices.

“That’s her, yeah. Her name’s Penny. If you call her “chick” she’ll go nuclear. Just warning ya.” You needed to keep this conversation on track. You liked talking to Eddie. It felt easy. Like you’d always thought it would. “She’ll buy from you, but it’s for this dude she likes.”

“Awww. That is so gross.” He replied in an airy, cooing tone. You’d moved to join him at the table, getting yourself comfortably seated. You really didn’t want to go back to painting. Eddie was actually kind of funny, and not in his usual loud, antagonistic way - you did still enjoy that, obviously, but seeing a new side to a pretty guy wasn’t something you were gonna complain about.

“You going to Willis’ this weekend? Since pennies and some other drama nuts are, I’d assume you are to make an appearance?”

“Drama nuts, huh?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look genuinely miffed at the comment. He was right, though. Everyone knew theatre kids were fucking nuts.

“It’s not a bad thing. Everyone’s a nut about something - sports, drama, music, sometimes math for whatever unholy reason.” He was now sitting on the table with you, leaning back on his forearms like he was getting comfy to stay there for some time. God.

“And what are you a nut about exactly?”

“Getting an answer about your party attendance, if I’m honest.” Oh.

True be told, Eddie didn’t flirt all that much. When he did, it was usually to get a rise out of people or make them uncomfortable. But he’d had at least one eye on you for a while now. You were cute, which was the first thing he noticed - all big wireframe glasses and funky sweaters with weird patterns on them.

The more he glanced your way, though, the more he liked. You were definitely the most level-headed of the drama nuts, reining in their impromptu lunch rehearsals. You were always jotting down notes in your little red, paisley-patterned notebook with “WORK STUFF” written on the front. You also snorted when you laughed at one of his comments in history like a month ago, so that had done a number on him for at least a week.

You were a little weird, honestly. But, he liked weird. Weird looked good smacking him in the spinal cord with theatre backdrops. Maybe you could smack him in other, more friendly, situations. That’d be cool.

“Oh? You’ve got some lines, huh? I thought the charm was only for the jocks and Miss O’Donnell?”

“My charm has many layers, thank you very much,” he smirked, the expression taking up his entire face. This guy’s Dante’s Inferno of charm was gonna have you ready to lose layers if it kept up. Wait, what cesspit of your brain did that thought crawl out from?

“Okay, okay, noted. Back to the weed party. Not really my kinda scene, too busy, too loud.” You smiled, a little sad at your confession. Big parties had never really been your thing, even when it came to birthday parties in elementary school. A cast and crew wrap party was always fun but you knew everyone at those, so it took less effort. Penny had been nagging your ear off for the past two weeks to “let your hair down,” but you knew you’d wind up being a buzz kill, regardless of what hairstyle you went for.

“The weed party? I’m gonna steal that one, specs. Could use it for my summer sales and marketing scheme. Business ventures aside, what is your scene if it isn’t weed parties?” He giggled a bit when he spoke. You weren’t going to be able to forget ‘weed parties’, but, hey, it could be an inside joke between the two of you, like friends.

“Well, this, more or less. It’s all like my own big extracurricular craft project, I guess.” You said, gesturing around the theatre room, glancing towards the storage closet door, the backdrops, the variety of sword props you’d made for Othello last year, and stacks of old paper that you had meticulously aged. It wasn’t much of a “scene”, but theatre was your life. Creating all of those little details that could elevate a play and bring it off the page alongside the actors was a great feeling. Most people didn’t understand why you liked painting backdrops or making stuff out of plywood or foam. Penny tried to. Bless her heart, but maybe Eddie would get it. Maybe he could peek behind the curtain and understand.

“Wait. So like, you make all of this stuff? Dude, seriously?!” Eddie lept up from the table quickly and dashed towards the “weapons bin” - it was the name you’d lovingly given to the big crate that was full of fake swords and daggers from previous productions. Miss Butler loved a good Shakespearean tragedy to get her thespians ready for their future Tony award nominations. Eddie rummaged through the crate and pulled out one of the more “adventurous” pieces you’d made. The blade itself was pretty basic, made from some foam with a wooden base to keep the shape and covered in metallic paint you borrowed from your dad. The handle and guard were what you were really proud of. And, apparently, so was Eddie.

It was an aged gold colour, made to look like the metal had been held numerous times but was still well-crafted. You’d taken way too much time to shape the handle to look like finger grips had been hammered into the gold. There were detailed patterns etched into the guard that you’d done with a craft knife at your kitchen table. It had been a bitch to work on since you’d stabbed your fingers a lot, but it looked fucking sick. Eddie held it like it was real, like it was a gift bestowed upon him by the gods themselves.

“You’re telling me you made this?” He spoke earnestly. It was the first time you had ever heard him sound that way. His big, dark eyes felt like they were scanning your whole body, not just your face.

“I don’t handmake everything, but the swords and other stuff that’s production-specific, yeah, I have to make it.”

“This sword. This sword, here. It’s the fucking crown jewel of our Hellfire campaign right now,” he stated. He’d started running his hand along the fake blade while maintaining eye contact with you and wearing an awestruck look. This must have been another layer of that charm he mentioned because warmth was crawling up your neck. There was an innuendo about stroking a sword rolling around in her head, but you weren’t ready to embarrass yourself that quickly - things were going too well.

“The Sun Strike. The most sought after and powerful magical sword. The guys are gonna use it to destroy this cursed rogue knight dude. Or, at least, that’s my plan. The new freshmen might fuck it up; who knows.” He swung the sword around as he told you all about the tale of the weapon, spinning it around in his hand. Eddie was so weirdly unpredictable - the scary satan worshipper could go sword tricks and was grinning like a big goof.

You didn’t speak for a few moments. You just stared at him and the sword from your perch on the table. This guy really was insane but in the best way possible. He looked like an excited little kid with your prop in hand.

Your parents had always supported your passion for building and crafting pretty much anything your little mind could think of - you’d once made a magic staff out of a gross tree branch you’d found on a hike. However, they never really got the enjoyment and sense of pride that crafts gave you. Breathing new life into something that might otherwise be viewed as mundane or as nothing. Transporting even the smallest object back in time to any period with some paint, some brushes and a whole bunch of all-nighters.

It was more than just fun. It was more than just a hobby. And Eddie Munson, of all people, seemed to understand that loud and clear. He’d even named one of your creations. How adorable was that?

“Hey, specs? Specs? Sorry, I should have asked to use your stuff. I didn’t know any of this was actually made by some-”

“No, no. Do not say sorry. Nuh uh,” you yelled, moving towards Eddie and grasping his upper arms. “The Sun Strike. That name is way cooler than anything I could come up with, so no sorry’s. And - and it's magic? Like good magic or bad magic?” Your quiet shock was long gone, and you started shaking Eddie by the shoulders. The bright grin on your face was infectious as Eddie stared at you, his expression slowly matching yours once the reality of your questions had set in. You were excited and asked him about D&D and liked the sword's name. Eddie had never been concerned about how smoking would affect his breathing, but you had him near gasping for air.

“Good magic, don’t worry. The best kind, actually. Like the light of the world, that type of stuff. Crafted by the fair hands of a Sun goddess herself.” Eddie explained with a lopsided smirk. Fuck, he was so proud of that piece of lore now; he could use it as a line on a cute girl. That had never happened before.

“Was that pre-established, or did you just make that up for me?” You laughed, not giving a single shit about what the answer was because you were a fucking Sun goddess. Now that you had calmed down, you made sure to let go of Eddie before you gave him minor whiplash. You were also becoming increasingly aware that being so close to him was feeling a little too nice.

“Nah, ‘fraid to say that I came up with that when I first saw it last year. But how about we change your name from ‘specs’ to ‘sunny’? How does that sound?” It almost amazed Eddie how easily he was laying it on thick with you.

“Keep ‘specs’ gives me the chance to redeem a name from middle school. Besides, one of the other girls in drama gets called Sunny, so no dice.” You were cursing Sunny to high heaven in your head. Her real name was Mary-anne, and she only got the nickname because her last name was Sunderland. But, you didn’t need to start gaining a God complex over a fake sword, so ‘specs’ you would have to remain.

You and Eddie continued to talk about your projects and if he had worked them into his campaign. Funnily enough, he had only used the gold handled sword since he’d never had a real inspection of the other treasures in the theatre trove. You were starting to grasp the fundamentals of D&D, and you could clearly see how fun it could be. What Eddie did with his club was sort of similar to you and the drama club - transforming, transporting, reviving. While helping him move some new stuff into place for Hellfire Club the next night, you both fell into a calm rhythm. You would suggest setting and props that could work for what he had planned in the session, and he would ‘hm’ and ‘haw’ about the place for them. You’d given him a few more fake weapons - two daggers and a wood-cutting axe - along with some weathered books and candlesticks.

This Hellfire set was one of the best you’d worked on, and it wasn’t even for the drama club. It was still just as theatrical and imposing but was also cosy and welcoming. Kind of like Eddie, you’d realised. After the evening you had spent with the town pariah, you were even more against the vile opinions people held about him. He was a huge cheeseball, inside and out. You had handed him a huge, beat-up, leather bound bible, and he nearly shrieked with excitement as he put it on the table. Behind the hair, the leather and the bite was one of the sweetest guys ever.

Eddie lounged back in his ornate, dark wood throne, surveying the upgraded Hellfire Club set-up. Candelabras, weaponry and some gothic patterned fabric draped over the ladder against the back wall. The place had never looked so right, so good. The best addition to the room, however, was you. You, organising the extra boxes and crates to clear up the space around the long table. You, who was giddy while dashing around the room and trying to get the fantasy-medieval-heavy metal aesthetic just right.

“Gotta hand it to you, specs. You can craft a damn good set. Very metal.” He chimed, giving you a soft round of applause from his throne.

“It’s all pure, raw talent, Munson.” You stated, standing proud with your hands on your hips and smiling smugly. Eddie was still glancing around the room with a look of childish wonder on his face. He’d put on the lights and bathed the room in a cosy, honey glow. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes. Wide, burnt umber, and so full of appreciation. This doe-eyed metalhead was past the point of doing it for you. You could feel the budding beginning of a crush - hadn’t had one of those since freshman year when Patrick McKinney was your biology partner for, like, two weeks.

“You know, I used to think you were just a chair thief. I’ve wanted to put that huge thing on stage for ages, but now I’d feel bad if I accidentally tainted its reputation.” You gestured to Eddie’s throne - you were more willing to call it that now.

“Well, I called dibs like a year before you even started here, so there. This bad boy is dripping in my glamorous reputation. I mean, look at this butt groove.” Eddie proclaimed, standing up quickly to reveal a pretty impressive imprint in the leather seat. You were being encouraged to inspect his ass, and who were you to pass up an opportunity like that. His dark jeans hugged his legs subtly and were definitely doing him favours. “Also, it’s 6:30 now, so we should probably think about vacating the premises. Higgins gets antsy if he senses that I’m around for too long.”

“Shit, it’s that late already? I gotta get home. I promised to watch MacGyver with my mom after dinner.” You quickly grabbed your backpack from behind the backdrops, only for some of its contents to spill onto the floor - your tapes, some almost dried-out pens and your copy of A Wizard of Earthsea.

“Oh ho, what you got there, specs?” Eddie, ever the gentleman, gathered up your stuff but didn’t hand it over right away. A chance to see what kind of music you were into? That was far too valuable. “Some Patti, a solid choice. And… Yes. Unexpected, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Didn’t peg you for a prog rock kind of gal.” God, he was annoyingly good at this. Making you flustered but still comfortable - making you want to match him toe to toe.

“I like cool ladies and funky guitar riffs. I’m very easy to please.”

“Noted.” He grinned. The bastard grinned from ear to ear. And you ate it up. “Anyway, you need a ride home? It’ll be dark out by now, and you can even have stereo privileges.”

Riding your bike home in the dark was always a dicey experience. You’d done it a few times after staying late at school accidentally and ended up walking most of the way since you were too worried that a car would run you off the road. Plus, Eddie had a van, so getting your bike home would be easy too.

And control of the music? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“That’d be great, actually! I live over on Fletcher; I think it’s kinda close to your place.”

“It’s on my route. So, let’s make like a tree.” Eddie picked up his backpack and headed towards the door, nodding for you to follow.

You had to restrain yourself from practically skipping through the halls. Staying late for theatre stuff was always fun, but it did start to get a little lonesome. Theatre kids in Hawkins loved being on stage, but they weren’t huge fans of being behind it.

But Eddie. He was on the stage, behind it and in the goddamn audience. He had a sort of omnipresent energy that followed him around. Most of the student body saw it as annoying, obnoxious or just plain evil, but you knew better. He was passionate - that was the best word for him. He was passionate about his game, he was passionate about his music and-

“Specs? This your sweet ride?” Eddie asked, ringing the bell on your bike. It was a dull, low ding - your bike was old as balls, and so was the bell.

“Yep. That’s her. Gorgeous, right?” You boasted, slapping the bike seat. The bike had been your mom’s many moons ago, and while it was a senior citizen, it was still a great shiny silver. Isopropyl and a wire brush kept her pretty.

“Maybe a little old for my tastes, but got the silver fox thing going, which is doing- something for me.” There he went again - the invitation, the tease to keep the banter going. You were about to quip back at him when he hauled your bike onto his shoulder. He held it so carefully even though it was just a bike. ��Van’s across the lot, so I’ll carry the old girl. Come on.”

You just nodded, maybe a little too excitedly, but better than talking with your foot in your mouth. You jogged a little to catch up with Eddie, falling into a brisk pace with him. It was early October, and the wind was starting to get its bite back.

But you couldn’t help but feel a little warmer when you watched Eddie awkwardly shift himself and wrestle to get your bike in the back of his van.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #fluff #fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #tbh this is also kind of a fix it fic #because i'm bad at writing angst #not gonna lie i'm actually pretty proud of this #Eddie is like my dialogue muse because i was horseshit at writing dialogue that sounded believable before this #Eddie #eddie munson x you

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lesbianwyllravengard · 3 years ago

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So since I'm thinking of Simarkus again here's a bit I've never seen in a fic for them yet that I want to write because I thought of it while looking at fanart and I think it'd be cute:

Wish I could just fucking open Google docs and write all this down in there but instead I'll simply think about it. No write.

Anyways. I'm gonna talk in points and then add them together in the end so I hope it somewhat makes sense like it does in my head.

Point one: I imagine Simon as a more physically affectionate person, because he was essentially a housemaid Android and they had to be familiar with children/be able to comfort and care for children, which we know. And we get to see him and Markus hug in game (God fucking bless) and they both hug so firmly and tightly like idk I just imagine they both give good hugs. Simon also put a hand on Markus's shoulder, reached out for him, put himself physically between North and Josh when they fought, etc. I feel like he has a good perception of his physical presence and uses it affectionately with those he loves.

Point two: Simon's feelings for Markus are so evident throughout the game in how he looks at, talks to, and interacts with Markus, but Markus mostly seems pretty emotionless when it comes to any feelings of romance; unless something bad happens. Like when Simon gets shot on Stratford Tower, or if you try to save Simon but he gets shot again, or when Markus tries to figure out what to do before they jump off of the tower (leave Simon or kill him), or when Simon sacrifices himself for Markus at the first freedom march. In all of those instances, Markus showed intense fear, worry, and care for Simon that seemed to only present itself when he realised he may never see Simon again, or that Simon may die.

Conclusion: I feel like Simon would be more physically affectionate with his friends, giving them hugs, or holding their hands when either of them are scared, that kind of thing. And Markus sees him doing this a lot; so when Simon leans against his side after a long day's work, Markus doesn't think anything of it. Or when Markus looks tired and Simon hugs him tight, Markus just considers it another aspect of Simon's wonderful personality. Meanwhile Simon is falling in love with Markus, but Markus likes his hugs so he won't stop them just because he's scared of his feelings. But Markus doesn't seem to notice how Simon feels, nor does Markus acknowledge his own feelings. He keeps getting hugs from Simon - once or twice, he'll even initiate one, like he did when Simon returned safely from Stratford - and now it's evolved into them sitting so close together they seem connected at their sides, holding hands in stressful situations, hugging after an exhausting or upsetting event, and a few times they'll even cuddle on one of the old couches, Markus with his signature stoic, worried expression and Simon hiding his lovesick gaze against Markus's chest.

Everyone else sees it though. Everyone's noticed Markus and Simon's touches and interactions and they're all wondering the same thing.

Then one day, maybe something bad happens, or maybe North says something to him, or both, but the realisation that he's in love with Simon just hits Markus so suddenly and forcefully. He remembers all the times Simon touched him comfortingly, the ways he'd look at Markus as he pulled him in for a hug, how he'd run his fingers along Markus's hands and lean his head against Markus's shoulder, and Markus is astounded that it took him so long to see it.

Like I'm not just talking about the "Character A realises they're in love with Character B so suddenly it hits them like a truck" trope because I have seen a lot of that for Simarkus, and I do love it. But I'm talking about Markus and Simon being physically affectionate, Markus reciprocating Simon's affections but not thinking twice about what they could mean, meanwhile Simon is all but suffering emotionally but not willing to stop his touches and his hugs because he knows how it comforts Markus and he cares more about comforting Markus than comforting himself, because he's so self sacrificing (canon). Like I just pictured them sitting somewhere and hugging and Markus is just staring blankly, maybe frowning a bit, thinking about all the work they have left to do, and Simon is hiding his face against Markus's chest, his eyes closed tight, clutching Markus like a lifeline and struggling not to let his feelings for Markus get in the way of being there for him.

So then when Markus does realise he's in love with Simon, all their physical touches take on a new connotation for him, and he does his best to reciprocate emotionally all that Simon gives him. He kisses Simon's head when they hug, or he pulls Simon to him first, and buries his face in Simon's neck. He takes Simon's hand and traces the lines with his fingers, he places Simon's palm against his cheek, he holds Simon's gaze with more weight, more focus on just Simon. He takes in their interactions in the moment, he doesn't let his mind wander to the day's taxing events. He sees how Simon needs the same comfort he gives, and so Markus initiates physical affection when he notices Simon seems tired, or stressed, or worried. He wants to be there for Simon, as Simon has always been there for him, and even if he never gets around to confessing his love for Simon, or even if Simon doesn't reciprocate his feelings, Markus is more than content just being there for Simon and comforting him in ways he's always done for others.

But of course Simon reciprocates his love. And of course they get out the words, eventually. I just want to focus more on Markus taking a step back from being "leader of the deviants" and being inspired by Simon to dedicate more time to being there for his friends, his family, who have been there for him the whole time.

#I will write this some day I WILL #I just needed to get these thoughts out because Holy bujeezus I'm discombobulated #Also all of this makes sense in my head I just have so much trouble translating my thoughts to written word so this is also a practice run #Once I finally write the fic it'll hopefully be more coherent of a thought process #dbh #detroit become human #Simarkus #Dbh Simon #Dbh Markus #Dbh North #dbh jericrew #dbh jericho #Fanfiction #Fanfic #dbh fanfic #Simon x Markus #Sikus #Simkus #Markus x Simon

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foreverandeternallyyours · 3 years ago

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MIDNIGHT CITY (DruigxReader, The Eternals)

sitting in front of my laptop on google docs at 1130 pm turned into this little drabble coming to life! definitely going to have a part 2, i’d rather post smaller parts over a period of time than a giant lengthy fic at once. my first ever writing based on the eternals and i hope you all love it.

may or may not have written it up and not edited it. the world will never know

no warnings, just mention of slight fluff.

word count: 903

eventual druig x reader, gender neutral so everyone can enjoy.

part two

You’d gone centuries without so much as a word of contact, and yet you found yourself laying in bed in your small apartment in the big city, your mind clouded with wonderings.

‘Where is he? What has he been up to all this time? Does he ever think of me like i’ve thought of him?’

The last time you’d seen him was in the ancient city of tenochtitlan, where he’d finally broken on his true feelings towards humans and their sufferings. His heart was in the right place, but his mind refused to accept why it was necessary. You remembered catching up to him, hugging him, the silence had been deafening in that moment. And then, it ended, and the group had disbanded.

It was painful being an Eternal. You were doomed to living centuries and outliving every mortal you came into contact with. You still held memories of those you’d encountered throughout the vast span of your life that were now long gone. The memories you held closest, however, were to your fellow Eternals- the family you had lost touch with. Despite the miles and continents you’d covered in your travels, never once did you catch so much of a glimpse of the ones you missed.

Especially him. Druig.

The bond you shared was deeper than the ones you held with the rest. At least you thought so, it was clear he didn’t hold the same regard. You never stopped looking. It seemed as though he never started.

The lights of the city cast a soft light through your window, pulling you from your somber thoughts. You saw the rise of civilization, of technology and of cities and towns. Your favorite place to be was in the big city, so full of life and so populated. You couldn’t stay long in any one place (people would eventually realize that as they grew older and went through the stages of aging, you stayed exactly the same) and your time here was wrapping up.

Your bed was pushed up against the window for the best view overlooking the bustling city. Skyscrapers twinkled in the distance with interior lights, neon signs of various establishments were hardly visible below, and the hum of sound closer to the ground floors of your building was like music to your ears. You were a city person through and through, and that was your next destination- same gist, just different place.

The books and notebooks scattered around your bed were pushed off to the side as you stretched out in bed. Better to get some sleep versus none, or at least try. You wished you had photos to remember everyone with, but they only existed in your mind. Closing your eyes, you eventually lulled yourself into a sleep.

xxx

“Should we wake them up? Youve seen how they are if you wake them up.”

Your eyes snapped open upon hearing someone speak, a man, rather close by as well. You’d fallen asleep and couldn’t have been down longer than a few hours when you stirred naturally, and before you could even fall asleep, you heard someone. And just like that, you were wide awake.

“We can’t wait around for them to get up, we have to find everyone else too, you know.”

Shooting up and looking around, your eyes adjusted in the darkness and your jaw nearly fell off from dropping so hard. There in the darkness were the ones you’d never stopped thinking about, a few of them at least.

Ikaris. Kingo. Sersi. Sprite. And a man with a camera in his hands, whoever he was. Nevermind to that.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty!” Kingo exclaimed. You could always count on him to lighten the mood; feeling as though the world was moving in slow motion, you clambered up from the bed and rushed to him, enveloping him in a hug as you felt your breathing quicken. He stood tense for a moment, caught off guard by the motion, but quickly wrapped his arms around you.

Pulling away, your vision blurred with tears as you looked up at him and then to everyone else. “I couldn’t find any of you,” you choked out, hurrying to hug the others as well. “I tried so hard, i swear to it..”

Sersi gave you a warm smile, next to Druig she was your second favorite.

Druig, who was absent, as well as Ajak, Phastos, Gilgamesh, Makkari and Thena.

The confusion on your face must have been apparent, as Sersi put her hand on your shoulder to tell you of Ajak’s death. You had crumpled to the floor and cried; had you known the last time you saw her would have been the last time, you’d have been more appreciative.

After that, everything seemed to meld together as you left your misshapen life behind to regroup. It seemed as though everything was falling into place as you reunited with everyone, though you felt shaken at the thought of seeing him again. You soaked up the time before you all made your way to the Amazon and to the small community of villagers. ‘Of course,’ you thought to yourself, ‘he’d have his own humans to protect.’

You were admiring the impressive scenery before you when the doors to the main compound opened. There he stood, the same as you remembered him in your memories. “I missed all of you. Please, make yourselves at home.”

#the eternals #druig fic #phastos #sersi #sprite #gilgamesh #thena eternals #kingo eternals #ikaris #eternals #eternals fic #druig x eternal!reader #druig x reader #the eternals marvel

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.24, FINAL)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty Four, FINAL) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,768 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Author’s Note: This took a couple more days than I planned. I had started writing and got to like 1,200 words and then I was like mhm... abandoned that doc and started another. I was grappling between two different paths and I went with the happier one. We’ve had enough angst!

Part Twenty Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

ALT ending (not complete, will not be completed)

Balancing the bowl on your stomach, you laid back eating grapes in silence. You were alone in the apartment. Again. Tony had been acting more distant now that you were really starting to show as you came into your sixth month. It smaller things at first, like you caught him staring at your protruding stomach and he looked away quickly when he noticed you saw or sex being from behind more often than not now. But now it was apparent something was wrong. He slept at home half the week now.

It should not be a shock; he had voiced his opposition to the whole thing from the start and you knew that is what was driving the wedge.

The grapes were doing little to satisfy your craving for French fries. You had just had some yesterday and you were trying to be good today. It was proving to be very difficult when you could just have them delivered and Wylan could bring them up for you.

As if on cue, the apartment door open and the smell of fried food hit your nostrils. You moved the bowl and sat up with some difficulty, spotting Tony walking towards the kitchen with a bag. Your mouth was already watering.

He tossed a look over his shoulder and asked, “Still having the craving?” He took in the look on your face and he cracked a smile. “Looks like it. I see I’ve brought you over to the dark side with it being a comfort food.”

“I don’t want this to last,” you said as you stood up, leaving the grapes behind on the coffee table. “I’ll be hundred pounds heavier if it keeps up.”

You sat down at the table, thankful that you had ordered the pillow covers for the chairs; they were far more forgiving on your backside than the plain hardwood. Tony placed a plate in front of you and handed you the ketchup and mustard before going back for his plate. He sat back down at the table in the chair across the table and began to eat.

Silence fell over the table as you ate some of the fries, paying more attention to them than the burger.

After a little while, you could not stand it anymore and you had to ask.

“Are... are we okay?”

Tony stopped eating and looked up at you with a concerned look. He placed his burger down and gave you his full attention. “What do you mean?”

“You seem… off. You have seemed off. The last couple of months. Like you kind of don’t want to touch me.”

He sighed, rubbing at his face. He looked like he was gathering his thoughts and you stayed quiet.

“It bothers me.” You looked at him expectantly, wanting him to say more when he paused. “You’re pregnant, for one. It’s a... thing for me. Just thinking about the baby in there and my dick around it.” You did your best to not crack at that, even the slightest of smirks. You wanted him to explain himself and not interrupt. “But you’re also pregnant with Steve’s kid. It... it makes me uncomfortable.” He paused and chewed on his bottom lip before meeting your eyes. “I don’t like watching him watch you. At the appointments I mean. He’s just... I know how he is and it’s not a good look that he’s giving you. And he’s so touchy feely about it and it makes me angry. Yeah. It makes me angry. That’s it. I hate it. I hate what he did. And he still wins and gets what he wants.”

“He doesn’t have to suffer through any of it and meanwhile you’re over here with body aches and looking down the barrel of the gun of childbirth. And it stresses me out because Steve told me he wanted to be there at the hospital, and I don’t think he should be in the room with you. He doesn’t deserve to be. Because I was done dealing with him after I learned what he had done.” He hesitated and saw you were still listening with rapt attention. He swallowed sharply before his eyes softened and he said calmer, “And it made me angry you gave him this satisfaction. Rewarded him for his behavior in a way. I wish you would have listened to me and just let me pay him out so this wouldn’t be a thing. And now we both have to deal with.”

You were quiet, staring down at your hands.

“I... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I think about it too. He didn’t even ask if he could touch me when I was on the table the first appointment, he just did it. And I didn’t make a scene. And he just ran with that as permission for whenever he was around me in the room at the appointments, he could touch me however. And still, I didn’t cause a scene because there was a nurse or a doctor in there all the time, and he seemed to know them all, and I didn’t want to have any bad blood with them myself. Just for the baby’s sake. I might not be keeping them but this whole thing isn’t their fault and I want them to have good treatment.”

“And as far as you paying him out… I didn’t want you to do that. I wanted it to be me. I wanted him to get that payment from me so he couldn’t write it off as someone else just taking care of me. And not take me seriously when I said I wanted to be done. It means more coming from me. It sucks, this whole thing is not a cakewalk. But, I think it’ll be worth it in the end. I didn’t have control of the situation at the beginning, but I do now. I made the decision.”

Tony was letting what you said sink in. He grabbed a fry and ate it slowly, looking lost in thought. He finally leaned back and met your eyes again.

“I get that,” he said sounding sincere. “It always means more if you’re the one that made the effort. Not just for them but for you.” He nodded and then said, “And I’m sorry for making you feel lonely.”

Trying to joke, you said, “I’ve got Luna.”

“I hope I’m not that easily replaced.”

“No. You’re not.”

He smirked briefly before saying, “Only three more months.”

“Or less.”

“Or less. Way to be hopeful.”

<><><>

You had had false contractions before, but these were stronger. And they were going on for longer than they had before. Gritting your teeth, you wobbled to the door and opened it.

“Terrence!” you called down the hallway. He was there quickly, and you leaned against the doorframe. “It’s bad.”

“What’s bad?” He asked sounding worried.

“The contractions. They’re longer and hurt. I think it’s time!”

“Let me call Tony.”

He whipped out his cell phone and dialed. He was speaking to him quickly. “Hey, Y/N says she thinks it’s time? I’m not sure. She said they’re longer and hurt more?” You gasped as you felt a pop internally and then wetness. You grasped at your crotch and felt dampness. Terrence had followed your hand and he looked slightly more pale. “Anddddd, I think her water just broke. Do you want me to take her?”

<><><>

A soft cry greeted you as you woke up. When they had brought you into the room, you had fallen asleep almost immediately, exhausted. How long had you been sleeping? You turned your head to the right seeing the baby next to your bed, fussing weakly. There was a nurse there and she noticed you were awake.

“Perfect timing, momma. I think he’s hungry.”

“It’s still here?”

“Yes?” The nurse said looking completely confused by your reaction and probably more so that you called him ‘it’. She watched you closely, looking suspicious.

Clearing your throat, you adjusted in the bed and asked, trying to sound calm, “Has... has the father come yet?”

The nurse shot a look in the corner, looking even more confused than before. You did not have time to follow her gaze before Tony’s voice sounded, “I only texted him five minutes ago.”

He was sitting on the built-in bench along the window. You had not even noticed him, all your focus on the small life next to you.

“He’s probably trying to get away from whatever he’s doing and get through traffic,” Tony continued.

So, Tony had not called Steve while it was happening. You had been in labor for five hours. Steve was not going to be happy that Tony had not contacted him, and he had missed the birth while Tony had been there instead. But you were relieved that Steve had not simply blown it off; when you had been in the delivery room, the thought had flashed through your mind.

The nurse raised up your bed and helped you open your gown. She adjusted a pillow to rest on your stomach and went back to grab him. You were hesitant but you held out your arms all the same, taking him gently from the nurse. She helped push his blanket so he was bare against you. You were trying to not be stiff feeling the contact.

“A little closer. The skin-on-skin contact is good,” the nurse encouraged.

Doing as she said, you forced yourself to relax more. His mouth was wet, and you shivered, causing the nurse to chuckle softly, saying to not worry, you would get used to that.

No you wouldn’t, you thought instead of saying it out loud.

Your finger traced along his cheek as he sucked, his little hand resting on your breast next to his mouth. He was calm now, serene in his eating.

“Looks like you’re a natural,” the nurse commented happily. “Be thankful for that!”

“He’s fine, then?” you asked her, looking up.

She nodded, “Healthy as can be.”

“Good,” you said quietly, looking back down at him. You searched his small face, trying to see any part of Steve. The nose maybe, but it was a little wide. His eyes had not been open long enough for you to see and you were not going to disturb him, choosing to keep him comfortable as he fed.

<><><>

You were woken again when you heard people speaking. Blinking awake, your vision cleared to Steve and Tony talking in low voices by the door.

“You fucking prick,” Steve was saying, sounding pissed. “I told you—”

“I was a little preoccupied as you can imagine,” Tony retorted quietly.

Steve spotted you were awake over Tony’s shoulder, and he sucked his teeth before clearing his throat. Snapping his head back to Tony, he said in a dangerous voice, “I’d like the room. If you can find it in yourself to back off for just a while.”

Tony looked over his shoulder, seeing you watching, and sighed before walking back over and grabbing his coat, sunglasses, and phone. He leaned over you and said, “I’ll be back.” He gave you a quick peck on the top of the head before moving past Steve, the two of them sharing a cold look.

Steve walked further into the room, and you were fixated on him for a moment before you turned your attention towards where the baby was sleeping. He approached and looked down at them, a small smile painted on his lips. Reaching out, he touched their cheek, his smile growing.

“Look at him,” Steve said quietly. “Perfect as can be.” He met your eyes and asked, “No complications?” You shook your head. “Good. And he fed?” You nodded again. “Look at you. Perfect as can be too. Though I am not surprised about that.”

Always with the flattery.

He collapsed into the chair beside the little bed and yours. He looked disappointed when he said, “I wanted to be here.”

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I was a little busy.”

“I’m not blaming you. I should’ve known Tony would be an ass about it. Always has to get a jab in. This one was taking it a little too far but I’m just glad everything went okay and you’re alright.”

“I was surprised he was still here when I woke up afterwards,” you told him honestly.

Steve told you, “I’ll take him when you are ready to discharge. It would look odd for me to take him before. Would raise a lot of questions that I don’t feel like getting into with the hospital.” That made enough sense to you. “Plus, let him get as much milk as he can from you before he switches over to formula and my wife’s. I’m worried he won’t take to hers but maybe he won’t be picky.”

He had never told you the specifics about what was going on with her child and you had not asked. You were sure you did not want to know.

“Well, he latches well enough to me. I hope she doesn’t have any trouble,” you said sincerely. Steve was watching you intently and you asked slowly, “What?”

His voice was soft, “Don’t you want to know what his name is?”

“No,” you told him sharply.

“Don’t want to get attached? I know a name can do that.”

“I don’t want to know,” you repeated firmly.

Steve looked sour for a brief moment before he remarked, “I’ll fill the paperwork out then, so you don’t have to see it. Have they dropped it off yet? The birth certificate paperwork, I mean.” You shrugged and he said, “I guess I’ll have to ask one of the nurses when they come in.”

“I’ll be staying here,” he continued on. “Just to make sure I get that paperwork and I’m here when you discharge. Won’t be leaving that up to Tony again. Unlike him, I’ll text him when you’re ready to go so he’s here to get you and you aren’t stranded here upon discharge. I’d take you myself, but Cecile is going to come to be able to go home with me and… the baby.” He had almost slipped up and you had a feeling he had done it on purpose.

He sat forward again, pulling the little bed closer to him, peering over at the little bundle.

“You did good, dove,” he murmured, his eyes fixated on his son. “I never doubted you for a second.”

<><><>

You stood up from the wheelchair and stood up, stretching a little. “Now that that’s over,” you muttered as Tony opened the passenger door. You had been annoyed they had insisted that you had to take a wheelchair out of the hospital. You had been in there for two days and you just wanted to walk more than just around your room, although that had not been recommended. You needed to take it easy while your body healed.

Steve’s voice sounded from behind you, and you turned your head, seeing him walking out with a woman. Your eyes snapped down to the bundle in her arms, seeing the little boy she was cradling. As if she sensed you, she looked over, locking eyes. You saw her eyes flick to Tony and you saw in real time the realization wash over her features before her eyes snapped back to you.

“Come on, Y/N,” Tony said at the same time as you tore your gaze away from her. His hand was around you, guiding you into the car.

The door closed behind you, and you waited for him to get inside. He was quiet when he did, pushing the start button on the car.

You snuck a glance in the side mirror and saw they were gone, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Could’ve done without that,” you exhaled.

“I’m sure she could have too,” Tony replied as he pulled away from the curb.

The city passed by as he weaved in and out of traffic. Your hands rested in your lap, watching the buildings go by. Your hand slipped up and you felt a small pang of loss at the flat abdomen you were greeted with. Your fingers flexed in, trying to force yourself to remember this is what normal was.

You startled slightly, pulled from your thoughts as Tony’s fingers slipped around yours, coming in between yours and your stomach. He closed his grip, holding your hand tight, bringing it back down to your thigh. He was quiet but he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

It was going to be okay, you told yourself.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night @woohoney

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #my shit

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notafrogblog · 3 years ago

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For the Ask thing, 3, 23, and 24? Have a nice day!

3: Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

anything involving romance. i tried writing romance once and to this day it is the fic i hate the most. i haven’t even been able to finish it because i hate it so much, and so it languishes in my google docs like a smug fucking ant infestation. i used to read a lot of romance, and i still read some on occasion, but i’ve become disenchanted with it. not really my thing.

23: If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

probably as you wish, bitch, my unfinished/abandoned princess bride au. i think i could do so much better now, and i’ve considered deleting it because i really don’t like the way i wrote it ;;

24: Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

if you’re a long-time reader of mine, you might remember my dreammortal. it was a my immortal parody with dreamceler (dream x onceler) written entirely for fun and to destress. ao3 made me delete it because apparently parodies of my immortal break copyright tos lmao

#frog answers #anon <3

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managedmischiefs · 5 years ago

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unauthorized//matthew gray gubler

based on mgg’s new unauthorized documentaries

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

word count: 3.4k

one last apology for the delay on posting these. fuck migraines!! iykyk. anyways, here it is. im really close to 200 followers and when i get there, ill be doing a preview of my new spencer fic called “north” so be ready to see that v soon! enjoy and don’t forget to give me some feedback!🖤

Getting to visit Matthew while he’s filming is a rare, yet special, occurrence. I always try to make the best of it when I get the change to head up to Vancouver, whether it be for a quick weekend or a whole week. When the final season of the show started, I did what I could to get to Vancouver for as long as I possibly could. I’d grown close to the cast, not to mention my boyfriend of six years. I wanted to make the best of this final season and make as many memories as I could, even if I’m not a member of the cast. They always joke that I’m an honorary member.

When, one night, Matthew mentioned reviving the Unauthorized Documentaries for the final season of Criminal Minds, I thought he meant it as a joke. He mentioned it so nonchalantly that I’d almost laughed. I thought he’d be too busy to worry about filming something on his own. But on his first week filming, during one of our first nightly FaceTimes, he ran a whole slew of ideas by me and I knew he was serious.

At least once a week, he would run an idea by me and would judge the quality by my quantity of laughter. I didn’t even need to comment or give my input, he’d just rattle off jokes and concepts and then either check them off or cross them out when I react. He did this every week up until this week, when he started filming.

“Do I look good?” Matthew brings my attention up from my laptop as he tugs on the lapel of his dress jacket, then holds out his hands to reveal his outfit. He’s dressed for the scenes he’s filming today, a scene with

Aubrey, so I’m not entirely sure why he’s so worried about how he’s dressed, but I’m not composing about the open request to check him out. “I’m about to go start filming the documentary with Andy,”

I drag my eyes up and down his body, my fingers stilling over the keys as I admire his figure. When I reach his eyes again, his eyebrows are raised because he can tell I’m doing more than just evaluating his outfit. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod, pushing my laptop aside and reaching my hands out for him. “You look very good, bunny,”

Matthew chuckles as I successfully grab his hands and tug him closer to me. “No, no,” he doesn’t resist as I twist my fingers in his belt loops, “I gotta go work,”

“I know,” I pout, letting go of him and sitting back in the too-comfy armchair I’m in. I’d give anything to grab him again and drag him into this chair with me. “Go film, I’ll probably be here when you get back,”

“Probably?” He picks up his script and, like the diva he is, checks his hair in the mirror and heads towards his trailer door, peeking back at me.

“I might follow you, I might stay here and keep doing the work I’ve been procrastinating,” I shrug and gesture back to my discarded laptop, flashing with a blank Google Doc, a doc that has been blank for weeks on end. Being a writer is hard and frustrating and not easy, by any means. What made me think getting a degree in writing would be a good idea? Shaking off my frustrations, I smile cutely at my boyfriend, tilting my head to the side. “Give me a kiss before you leave?”

Matthew nods and stalks back over, leaning over to peck my lips. “Whatever you write,” he whispers, warm breath fanning across my face, “will be absolutely amazing and beautiful and I’ll be honored to read it,”

“Oh, you give me too much credit,” I scoff, watching Matthew roll his eyes.

“And you don’t give yourself enough,” he responds, and then hastily checks his watch. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, but this conversation is not over. I’ll see you later. Love you,”

“Love you too. Go be funny,” I wave goodbye at him as he goes bouncing out of the trailer, closing the door behind him, leaving me to my empty Google Doc.

///

An hour later, my head is starting to hurt from staring down at a bright screen so I decide to take a break and get something to eat from catering. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew and I’m not sure what he’s up to, so I grab my phone and throw on one of his hoodies that’s a bit too big on me and head out of his trailer.

As soon as I do, though, I run right into Matthew with a pile of shoes in his hands, making them tumble to the asphalt. He curses and keeps a straight face as he tries to pick them up again. Then he sees an opportunity in me and starts to shove shoes into my hands to help him, but they’re still tumbling out. I resist the urge to laugh because I know this would ruin his bit, and I just let him silently shove Daniel’s shoes into my arms.

But then he runs off, leaving me with shoes in my arms. Without any direction or guidance from my boyfriend, I turn to Andy, who’s holding the camera, and shrug my shoulders, dropping Daniel’s shoes to the floor before walking off to my original destination- catering. Those two boys can clean up the mess they devised. I’m hungry.

Matthew finds me just twenty minutes later, taking me by surprise when he wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, pressing kisses to my cheek. “Thanks for helping me,”

He pulls out the chair beside me and scoots as close as he can to me, our thighs touching. “I mean, I wasn’t really expecting it but it was funny. I was internally laughing,” I let my head fall onto his shoulder, feeling his arm snake around my waist. I peer up at him, feeling my pupils dilating into hearts at the sight of my stunning boyfriend. I’ll never stop being floored by his eyes and his jawline and his dimples and his lips and his smile and how fucking beautiful he is. “I liked that idea from the beginning.”

“I know you did,” he quips, not-so-sneakily swiping a chip from my plate and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe you’ll appear in another episode. Who knows?”

I don’t see Matthew until the end of the day because he’s busy doing his job, as he should be. I spend my day writing in his trailer and filling up my previously empty Google Doc. When the cast has a long break, Matthew comes in to film a scene that I recognize as the ending to the second episode. He’s sitting at his open trailer door, supposedly watching videos of Daniel modeling. He’d only waved at me when he came in, not wanting to bother my work. I wish he would distract me more. Maybe I’d take action on my fantasy of melting into this armchair with him.

His exaggerated and focused facial expression is enough to make me suppress a giggle, but then I spot a baby girl hat from Shemar on the counter and a light bulb starts floating over my head.

“Psst,” I hiss, and Matthew looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. I hold up the hat to him, and his eyes light up with a childlike excitement. He holds up his hands and I toss the hat to him, and as soon as he puts it on, I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in. “Perfect, you look perfect, baby,” Matthew winks at me and then gives a thumbs up to Andy, putting on his exaggerated face yet again and staring down at his phone. I tuck my face in my laptop so I don’t laugh again, typing diligently.

The next day is when I’m, yet again, roped into Matthew’s documentary. I don’t mind though. His ideas are hilarious and they never fail to make me laugh.

I sit in Matthew’s trailer for an hour without him, staring at a blinking cursor. I don’t write a single word and I know that sitting in the same spot won’t make inspiration suddenly strike. I decide to change my scene up and bring my laptop to catering. I grab a snack and take a seat at an empty table, crossing my legs under me, beginning to mull over combinations of words and debate definitions of words. It’d been relatively quiet in catering for a while, but it all comes to an end when Matthew comes marching up to me.

“Hi, babe,” he says sweetly, a bit too sweetly, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat. Like yesterday, I give him a confused look, and when he gives me the same adorable smile that he always does, my heart practically melts. The ways this man makes me fall so easily. I’ll never understand.

“Hi, there,” I respond, and then glance up at Andy holding the camera. “Can I help you?”

“Could you possibly google something for me?” Matthew says and directs his attention to my laptop. The way he’s not giving me any type of attention or physical affection let’s me know that he really is filming his documentary again, so I play into it again. What do I have to lose? I’m not writing anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” I switch to Chrome and pull up Google. “What is it?”

“Could you search Daniel Henry?” Matthew keeps a straight face and it’s moments like this that remind me how great of an actor he is. Who can keep a straight face while regurgitating an incorrect name?

I turn my head to him, biting my lip to hold back my laugh. “Henry?”

Matthew nods. “Yeah, I know, it sounds like a girl's name. I thought it was a girls name at first. Daniel,” He repeats it as if that clarifies anything at all. I just narrow my eyes at him again, and when I don’t search the obviously incorrect name that he’s giving me, he sits back in his chair, finally looking at me again with his eyes narrowed. “Do you-“ he lets out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “do you think there’s any chance he could be taller than me?”

“Okay, we can stop there,” Andy cuts us off, dropping the camera from focus.

“I think you missed your calling in life, love,” Matthew chuckles, pulling me into his arms, attacking my face with kisses. “I’m sorry to spring that on you, but-“

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really getting anywhere anyway. If you need help with anything else, you know I’m around for the rest of the week.”

Surely, he cashed in on that offer. It was accidental. It was my fault, really. I was just trying to get back to Matthew’s trailer the next day after having lunch with Kirsten and Daniel, to which Matthew jokingly called me a traitor. I heard Matthew’s loud voice from all the way down the hallway and I should have turned and left, but I didn’t.

So, iced coffee in hand, I stroll down the hallway and when I make it to the clearing, I stop in my tracks. Now, you’d think that after being with this man for five years and living with him, nothing would surprise me anymore. But he still has his moments, and this is definitely one of them. He has these wooden boxes and he’s got a roll of packing tape, and he’s taping the boxes to his feet. Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me, because he’s told me about this idea of his, but seeing him actually doing it with my own eyes is a whole different thing.

It only takes him a moment to notice my presence, and when he does, he waves me over. “Babe, babe, hey babe, babe, babe,” he says quickly, waving his hand quickly, holding the wooden box against his foot. “Come help me,”

Keeping up the same attitude I’ve had in the past, I let out a dramatic sigh and drag myself over to him, sitting down on the floor and putting my coffee on the floor. But the moment I do, Matthew snatches it up and starts drinking it as I grab the dangling packing tape. Gosh, if he actually acted like this, I’d have broken up with him forever ago.

I wrap the tape around his foot and the box and then around his ankle, making sure to not make it too tight so that I hurt him. He’s still sipping my coffee and staring into the camera like some cocky asshole when I move onto the other foot, and then I eventually run out of tape.

I sit back on my heels and look up at him. “I’m out,” Wow, this position we’re in right now? If Matthew didn’t have wooden boxes strapped to his feet and we weren’t in the middle of the Criminal Minds offices, I’d probably be reaching for his belt. But I can’t let my mind go there or else we’ll be hooking up in a bathroom or his trailer, and that never ends well for anyone.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and I watch in amusement for way too long as he struggles to get up to his feet. I don’t even help him, I just sit back and giggle. “Here, you can have this back,” he holds my coffee out to me, and just as soon as I reach for it, he pulls it back. “Wait,” he takes a long sip, “okay here.” I finally grab my coffee again and then move to lean against the wall, watching him struggle to take the first few steps with boxes taped to his feet.

He hobbles down the hallway, all the way to BJ and proceeds to ask her to paint the boxes like shoes. And once he gets the shot he wants of this scene, Andy wanders off and he comes wobbling back to me with a cute, dumb smile on his face. “Will you help me get these off?”

I nod, sitting down on the floor again to pull off the tape around his feet. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t trip and fall on your face,”

“Me too,” he laughs, sighing with relief when I take the first box off and set it aside. “But hey, this is my last break and then I’m gonna be working late today. I don’t know if it’s worth it to stick around set. I’m not gonna be able to come see you or anything,”

“Maybe I’ll go back to your house. I can make some dinner instead of ordering out,” I pull off the last bit of tape and then swiftly reach up to press it against Matthew’s cheek, watching it hang there limply.

He gives me a deadpan look as I devolve into giggles, falling over his lap and holding onto his misplaced elbow pads to hold me up. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m laughing so much. That was so funny,” His voice is void of any humor as he holds my shaking body from hitting the carpeted floor.

“I know, I’m just so funny,” I quip, pulling myself together enough to crane my neck and kiss his cheek. “But I am probably gonna go back to your house. Sounds like a good idea,”

“Okay, just let me know when you get there,” Matthew pats my thigh and signals me to get up, and once we’re on our feet again, he moves the wooden boxes aside. “I might not respond but-“

“Text you so you know I’m safe. I’ve got it,” I finish for him, fixing the lapel of his jacket. I push my pointer finger against the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up in the insanely adorable way he does. The sight brings a smile to my face and it makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll see you later, okay? Go be brilliant.”

///

The sound of the front door opening lifts my head, taking my attention away from the glass of wine in my hand and the laptop in front of me, yet again. I glance at the timer on the oven and then jump to my feet, padding towards the foyer.

Matthew is dropping his backpack by the door when I get to him, and pauses halfway through reaching for his jacket. “Hi, love bug,” he murmurs, giving me a weak smile.

I grab Matthew’s jacket for him and slide it off his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” When I turn to hang the teddy bear jacket on the coat rack, I feel his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him. He successfully pulls me against his chest, lips leaving a trail against my shoulder. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice wavering as he tucks his face into my neck, “long, and repetitive, and tiring, and I’m very hungry and I smell food,”

I turn myself around in Matthew’s arms and face him, placing my hands on his cheeks. “I got pizza dough on my way home and I made homemade pizza. It’s in the oven and it’ll be done in about ten minutes. And I poured you a glass of wine too,”

Matthew’s eyes flutter closed and he presses his forehead against mine. “You’re an angel. You’re a goddamn angel, sent from heaven to bless me with your presence,”

“Oh, stop,” I laugh, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s just get wine drunk and eat pizza and watch movies all night. You don’t have work tomorrow and I’m tired of looking at my damn laptop,”

“You make us sound like two teenage girls,” Matthew unwinds from my embrace and wanders into the kitchen, swiping the full glass of wine from the counter. He takes a sip and then pecks my lips again, and I revel in the sweetness of his lips.

Matthew sits at the counter, right in front of my laptop, taking another long gulp of his wine. I check on the pizza, just to make sure it’s not burnt, but when Matthew is silent for too long, I look back to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes when he has a hard or long day at work, he tends to shut down and not open up to me, and I don’t want that to happen. But when I turn to check up on him, I find him leaning into my laptop, his eyes darting across the screen.

I gasp, stepping forward and slamming my laptop shut, ripping it away. “Hey! You know I don’t like it when you read my work before it’s edited and finished,”

Matthew pouts, hiding his face behind his wine. “Sorry, I just- well, you’ve been talking about it so much and it was right here and I wanted to see how it was going,” I go into the other room and put my laptop into my bag, out of sight and out of mind. When I return to the kitchen, Matthew is pulling the pizza out of the oven just as the timer goes off. “If it means anything, of what I did read, it was really good. I only got through the first two paragraphs, but I really loved it.”

“Well, thanks,” I mumble, going onto my toes to kiss his cheek before grabbing the pizza cutter. “I’m not mad, I just-“

“I get it. You don’t let me read your writing until it’s done and I don’t let you see anything I’ve filmed until it’s done,”

“Oh, so, I can’t see any of the documentary until it’s done?”

“Maybe I’ll make an exception for that,” he quips, grabbing the pizza cutter from me and digging it into the hot pizza crust. “I don’t trust you with this thing anymore. Not after you ended up in the hospital last year with Sandy,” he turns to me with a pointed look.

“It was an accident and you know it!”

“Oh, really?” He guffaws, tossing the pizza cutter aside and reaching for my waist. But I dodge him, taking a step back. He accepts this as his challenge, reaching for me again, and when I dodge him one more time with a confident smirk, a playful fire ignites behind his eyes. “Fuck the pizza. I’m coming for you.”

#matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gubler #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #nikos writing #matthew gray gubler one shot

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

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summer sizzle | yours - reggie mantle [ m ]

[ prompts used ] One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other + I Love You + heavy eye contact + comfort sex + first time (together) -

[ authors notes ] And I did it. I’ve been literally dying to write this for a while now, but lately, my fucks to be given have taken a hike, so I figured if there ever was a time then it’s now? So.. Here. Have some filth.

[ warnings ] 18+ only. All actual children please exit the building now. This is not meant for your eyes. Body fluids, oral sex , mentions of biting... Other than that just teeth rotting fluff.

[ pairing / fandom ] reggie mantle x lodge!ofc - riverdale

[ tag squad ] sadfaces. there’s no one on my riverdale taglist as of now. So I won’t tag anyone. If you see this and you want to be on my taglist, I’ve linked that doc below. FYI, as of today, I am being totally serious. If you’re not on my taglist ( or haven’t told me you want to be tagged in my writing over DM or message) I will definitely not be tagging you.

[ tag doc | masterlist | fyi | ask box status : open, accepting anons (headcanons for characters & fake fic titles only tho) ]

R E G G I E M A N T L E in yours,..

“Reggie?” I called out as I stood in the empty, locker lined hallway. The dance was still in full swing in the gym but I didn’t care. I’d seen everything play out between my sister Veronica and Reggie, one of my best friends. Naturally, I rushed right out.

I heard the doors leading into Riverdale High swing shut hard and I took a deep breath before making a beeline down the hall. I stopped in front of the trophy case to reapply my lip gloss and take a few deep breaths.

,, you can do this. You can make the first move.” I thought to myself all the way down the hallway and out the doors of the school. I caught him just as he reached his Charger and I tapped his shoulder, so nervous that I nearly jumped out of my skin when he turned around.

“Jesus.” I raised my hand to my heart, giving a soft little giggle as I stepped closer and pouted up at Reggie for a few seconds while toying with his tie, threading it through the fingers on one hand. My eyes settled on his chest because for the life of me, I absolutely could not meet his gaze right now. Not and actually say what I’d come out to tell him. Looking down and just.. Touching him a little… It was keeping me calm and far better than me, just blurting it out awkwardly. I wanted to ease into it.

“I saw what happened.” I finally managed to mumble because I knew I had to say something.

Reggie let out a breath and tensed a little. Then I stepped closer, my body pressing light against his and he kind of just melted against me, staring down at me a moment before nodding back to the building. “You’re missing the dance.”

He completely ignored what I said about having seen what happened between him and my sister, or the fact that not even ten minutes later, she was all cozy with Archie Andrews again as if nothing had ever happened. I could look at Reggie and tell that it was eating him alive, but true to form, he was refusing to think about it right now.

Mostly to keep the tension between us at a minimum, I answered dismissively,

“My date was a drag anyway.” I shrugged half-heartedly as I said it, pouting a little over the fact that naturally, my date only came with me in the first place because of Veronica being my older sister. I shoved the thought out of my mind and bit my lip, my gaze falling to the black silk tie undone around his neck, raising a hand to toy with it again in the hopes of distracting myself.

This had been so much easier in my head. What if I told him and he laughed about it? What if telling him made things awkward between us? All my doubts chose that exact second to surface and I stepped away just a little to try and get myself together. During all this, Reggie was staring down at me intently, almost thoughtfully.

Finally, he spoke up. “Comin here tonight was a mistake. I knew your sister was gonna wind up going back to Andrews, I just chose to be an idiot. Be blind. Tell myself that I was wrong.”

“You’re not an idiot. You felt something, it’s okay to feel. She shouldn’t have let you believe she felt things in return, if we’re being honest.” I shivered as the wind picked up and I hugged myself a little. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to say something. Anything, at this rate. I was determined to make my own feelings for him known at last because frankly, keeping quiet was getting entirely too difficult to keep doing.

And I had nothing to lose.

“Wish I felt like that right now.” Reggie remarked quietly, stepping closer on his own just as I hugged myself a little harder because of the chill in the air. He looked me over, not saying anything. Then he shrugged off the jacket to his suit and draped it around me. “You’re going to freeze out here, Vivi.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. You are my best friend, Reggie.” I reminded him patiently, tapping a foot against the pavement as my gaze broke away from him and momentarily, I glanced back to Riverdale High. “Screw the dance. This whole night was a waste of time. I only came because…” I fell silent. I was literally thisclose to saying exactly why I’d taken the date with the idiot I’d come with, but somehow, I couldn’t just… say it already.

“Because of what?” Reggie’s fingers tucked beneath my chin, making me look up at him. I gulped and let out a shaky breath, my teeth chattering a little. He stepped even closer, towering over me. “C’mon, you were saying something, Vivi. Don’t stop now…” he coaxed, deep brown eyes fixed on me, promptly making me stare in distraction and realize just how quickly I drowned in them.

“Because of you. I came tonight because of you.”

“What do you mean, because of me?” he completely closed the distance between us, his hands lingering gingerly at my hips as he stared down at me, dazed. I whined, giving him a begging glance. I couldn’t find the words to actually say what I was dying to and here he went, insisting that I said them. I cleared my throat quietly and after a second or two of mumbling to myself about it, I took a deep breath.

“Whatever you do, don’t laugh.” I mumbled softly as I rose to tiptoe, placing the palm of my hands on either side of his face to pull his mouth closer. I originally intended to just go for it, but I awkwardly wound up kissing the corner of his mouth instead and when I did… His fingers dug into my lower back, moving down to squeeze my ass through the body con minidress.

He pulled me up slightly, and just as I went to back my face away, he bit his lip and gave this little smirk while shaking his head, chuckling against my mouth, “Where you think you’re about to go, Vivi?” both his lips clenching my upper lip between as he planted a similar kiss on my mouth. When I felt his tongue trailing between my lips, my mouth fell open easily to give him access. If I shivered again, it was not because I was cold.

No, in fact, my entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside right now. He stepped back to lean against his car just a little, letting me melt against his embrace completely. Tongues clashing for control of the kiss turned to teeth nipping and scraping at each other’s mouths, shaky breaths caught in the air and swallowed by a kiss that was getting so deep and out of hand in a good way that I was starting to feel dizzy. We pulled away, panting for our next breath, both trying to process what just happened.

“I think I love you.” I managed to get it out, wiping the back of my hand along my lips. Reggie blinked in surprise, but that cocky smirk started to form and naturally, Reggie wouldn’t be Reggie if he didn’t push for more. “You think or you know?” he stared down at me intently, a gaze that demanded an answer.

“I think that I know. There’s just always been this magnets pull…” I said it feebly, afraid that now having said it, he was about to gently tell me that he didn’t feel the same. When I could finally bring myself to actually look at him, he was just staring at me intently… That cocky smirk had gone so much softer. His hand left it’s resting place on my hip to raise and lay against the side of my neck so he could cradle my face in his hands. “Yeah.” the word was choked out and his mouth buried against mine all over again, devouring it. I rubbed against him a little, trying to get even closer. The scent of his cologne filled my nose and I breathed it in deep, a soft sigh disappearing between our mouths as I did so.

When we finally broke away again, he licked his lips, staring intently at the way mine were left swollen and bruised by the desperate, longing kisses exchanged.

Of course, I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t working myself into a panic because I’d just said… all that… and he really hadn’t said anything yet.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, huh? Because I..” he looked down, taking a deep breath, looking back up slowly. “I never would’ve even started something with Veronica if I knew.. I just thought we were best friends. Kinda thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind because I wanted to say it to you so many times…” he trailed off, taking a few shaky breaths, stepping closer all over again with his hips pinning me against the side of his car, his hands wandering as he rubbed against me and let me melt against him, a frenzied groan against the shell of my ear as the friction started to build and we realized neither of us were interested in stopping or even wanted to.

The next thing I knew I was being pulled up his body, sat down in the passenger seat of his car. He leaned in, peppering my face with kisses as he muttered in a daze against my mouth, “I wanna get out of here. Do you, baby girl?”

“Yes.” I managed to gasp just as I felt his teeth latch onto my lips all over again, tugging, his hand slipping between my thighs and making me whimper and rock against it as soon as I felt him cup my dripping cunt. “Please?” I questioned breathlessly.

He rubbed harder, a quiet “Fuck” hanging heavy in the air between us as he dipped his head back down, muttering dazed against my mouth, “Right now, baby girl. Because if we don’t go now… People are going to get a show.”

He reluctantly pulled himself away, straightening to stand and he shut the door firmly behind him, hurrying around to the driver seat. Once he was inside the car, he started it and his hand crept right back over the center console, settling between my thighs again, a sharp hiss at just how wet his fingers came away at the touch.

His house was coming into view and as soon as he parked behind one of his dad’s many cars, he killed the engine, leaning across, his free hand at the back of my neck to pull me into him. The hand buried between my thighs kept rubbing, applying just a bit more pressure, drawing a gasped whimper out of me as I met his mouth, devouring it hungrily. I shivered at the way his fingertip trailed a line right down my center while giving me a lust filled gaze.

I pouted to myself when he opened the car door and quickly made his way around to my side, opening my door and bending at the hip, unfastening my seat belt and scooping me up into his arms. My arms looped around his neck and my nose nuzzled right against the space between his neck and shoulder and he had to stop and adjust the way he carried me because it caught him off guard and he’d very nearly dropped me. He wasted no time getting us inside, up the stairs and into his bedroom. He sat me on top of his dresser and locked the door before turning his attention to me all over again.

Stepping between my legs, he tilted my head slightly, mouth grazing against the side of my neck all over again. I could feel his lips really latch on, the suction forming between his mouth and my skin. I wasn’t stupid, I knew exactly what he was doing.

He was going to make absolutely sure I was covered head to toe in his marks. And honestly, that’s the exact thing I wanted.His hands skimmed the insides of my thighs and his mouth bore down harder, the sound of our heavy breathing almost amplified in the quiet of his bedroom. When I felt him cupping my cunt all over again, rubbing it over the soaked underwear, my head fell back and I sucked in a deep breath, rocking myself against his hand. When he leaned into me a little more, something clattered to the floor with an almost deafening thud and the two of us locked eyes, freezing in place.

When no one barged down the hall to knock at his door, he grabbed the back of my neck lightly and pulled my forehead against his lips while his other hand brushed the soaked fabric barrier covering my cunt out of the way.

My breath caught in my throat and he muttered softly, “Hope you’re not planning on leavin, princess. I wanna take my time with you tonight.” and just as I went to whimper when his thumb rubbed at my clit and his fingers buried deep in my core, slowly stretching me out a little, his lips crashed against mine to swallow the sounds of my quiet moans and whimpers as he continued to work at my clit and his fingers drummed against my spot, massaging and scissoring in and out of my core.

I rocked myself against his moving fingers and gripped at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it apart, sending a quiet spray of buttons clinking against the floor of his bedroom and he gave a low, husky chuckle as he lazily trailed his tongue over the outline of my lips. I tugged his shirt off, letting it fall softly to the floor. He gave another quiet chuckle against my mouth and the silent tear of fabric was heard as he stopped what he was doing to me long enough to tear my panties off, tossing them beside his shirt. As he turned his attention back to me, his eyes lit on my dress and he started to work it up over my thighs, up to my hips before pausing again to bite his lips and rub his chin thoughtfully.

“Reggie.” I choked out in a breathless whisper. I was throbbing, literally aching to get off and then he stopped and I was starting to get more than a little needy. His eyes locked on mine and he stepped close all over again, scooting me towards him and then picking me up, stepping over to his bed. My back hit the mattress and my hands raised, fumbling with the thin black leather belt at the waist of his pants. Once I got the buckle undone, I worked the button free. I caught his gaze as he pushed my legs open wide, his body serving as a barrier to keep them spread. Then I went agonizingly slow with the zipper to his pants.. Because turnabout is fair play. He barely held back a quiet whimper and the second his pants were undone, he was kicking off his shoes and letting his pants and underwear pool at his ankles, kicking them free from there.

He pushed me back against his bed and centered himself over me. “Condom?” I muttered the question against his mouth and he nodded, reaching out for his nightstand to open a drawer, pulling one out. As his eyes met mine again, he conquered my mouth in another hungry kiss, grinding himself against me and groaning against my mouth as the sloppy sounds of our kissing seemed to echo in the quiet room and compete with the quiet creaks of the mattress beneath us. “But first..” his lips ghosted down my throat as he mumbled the words into my skin, “I wanna taste you.” his eyes met mine as he said it and I nodded, biting my lip.

As his mouth sank lower, diving down from my throat dragging across my collarbone. When he dipped his head and I felt his tongue dart out, circling my nipples as one of his hands slipped between my thighs again, his thumb pressing hard against my clit, rubbing and working the circular bundle of nerves.

My fingers curled in the sheets on his bed and his teeth scraped against my nipples, teasing them to points as he buried his fingers inside me all over again, panting against my neck, “You’re so wet already, fuck.” as the wet sounds of his fingers working my spot with each deep thrust he made.

He moved down my body a little more, his tongue lazily trailing down my abdomen and circling my belly button, making me almost giggle and raise a little to look down at him. The lower he got, the more I felt that lazy slow burning heat in my stomach get hotter, send my stomach fluttering. I could feel my thighs slip off of each other and I knew i had to be dripping on the sheets and leaving a puddle. His eyes met mine one last time as he settled between my thighs, arms hooked beneath each one to hold me open.

Almost like a tease, he licked his lips and then he buried his head between my thighs, his tongue striping right up my center, circling my clit. I felt his lps latching on, sucking and I tried like hell to get a little more movement, get friction going all over again, but his grip on me was too tight for it. He chuckled against my cunt, “Just be still, doll. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Feels so good, ugh..” my head fell back as I muttered the words, my eyes fluttering open and shut, trying to stop tears from spilling because he was teasing me to a point in which I literally felt like I’d cry if he didn’t just let me get off. “Reggie!” I whimpered, begging for more. He tilted my hips upward, burying his tongue inside me even further and I lowered my hand, gripping at his hair. He gave a quiet growl, the warmth and wetness of his tongue against my dripping pussy sending a shiver shooting through my entire body. “C’mon, doll.. I feel you tensing up. Let go for me.” he muttered in a half dazed lusty tone against my pelvic mound and honestly, I needed no further push beyond his words. The orgasm that had been building for a while now ripped through me and I could hear him greedily licking and sucking me clean. He started to crawl back up my body, pressing himself down and into me. He slipped his fingers between his lips, groaning as if I were the best thing he’d ever tasted, making me watch him as he licked his fingers clean.

When he went for the condom, I reached out, wrapping my hand around his wrist, working it free from his fingers as I looked up at him. “Let me.”

He fell back against the mattress and I took the condom, tearing into the wrapper with my teeth. I worked it down over his thick length slowly, almost teasing as I did it, making him come alive below, bucking his hips upward against nothing, quiet moans and groans shattering the peaceful silence of his bedroom. He gripped my hips and I straddled him, sinking down on his length slowly, a sharp hiss coming as he stretched me out and filled me up.

Reggie rose to a sitting position and I wrapped my legs around his hips. He leaned his forehead against mine and muttered soft against my mouth, “You feel so good.Faster, princess. C’mon.. Ride me.” and I obliged him, starting to ride his cock a little faster, letting him sink into my pussy deeper, his length striking right against my spot and making me dig my nails into his shoulders just a bit. His hands gripped my hips and he started to pump me up and down on his cock, slower, steadier and so much deeper. My head fell back as I eagerly rocked my hips to meet his deep drives and moaned his name quietly, the sound only overtaken by the sound of our sloppy wet kisses and the steady creaking and rustling of the bed.

He tensed a little, his hips stuttering against mine, his fingers digging into my sides almost enough to leave bruises behind and he growled against my mouth, “You’re all mine now, right?”

“All yours.” I breathed against his mouth, my tongue trailing over his lips, slipping between them to collide with his. The kiss broke and my mouth strayed down the side of his neck. Like he’d done to me earlier, I fully intended on leaving marks behind. His grip tightened on my body and he groaned my name. “Fuck. Vivi. That’s it, baby girl. Want you to, “ he trailed off, taking several ragged breaths, “Mark me up, baby.”

I buried my lips on his neck, latching on, leaving behind a sizeable mark, riding his cock faster, whimpering against his ear as an orgasm began to build even more. “C’mon.” he urged, fucking into me faster from below, “Let go. Ride it out, princess.”

My pussy vised his length and he groaned against my neck, leaving a mark on the other side of it, his hand raising to tangle in my hair and tug at the ends of it, making me slam myself up and down on his cock even more, harder. I could feel myself dripping, still clenching his thick length tight and when he flipped us so that he was on top, slamming into me deep as he positioned my legs around his hips, burying his mouth in mine, I could feel him throbbing and my head fell back, my breath catching as I struggled to breathe properly again.

He pulled out, crawling down my body again, groaning as his eyes locked on the sight of me dripping, the excess of my juices pooling on the sheets beneath me. He moved back up my body, his mouth meeting mine as he muttered lazily against my mouth, “I’ll be right back. You want some water or anything, princess?”

“Just hurry back, baby. I wanna know how it feels to fall asleep in your arms.”

My words sent a bright grin to his lips and he nodded, slipping out of bed. I laid there and took a few deep breaths before grinning bright in the dark.

Telling him hadn’t gone nearly as bad as I was afraid it would. And now, Reggie Mantle was mine. All mine. And I was all his.

#reggie mantle fanfiction #reggie mantle one shot #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantile imagines #reggie mantle fanfic #reggie mantle x lodge!ofc #reggie mantle smut #// 18+ only please

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shieldwinter · 4 years ago

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Stucky Fic Rec [Part Three]

Part Three of the fic rec coming at you! Sorry for it coming so late in the day - I was finishing up reading a fic that I wanted to add to this part! I do only add fics that I’ve read, and enjoyed, to this rec so (once again) there will be few, if any, ABO and Shrinkyclink fics! As always; I will provide the Google Doc link where I update the rec regularly, but if you’d prefer it formatted here on tumblr, it is under the cut! If you want to recommend fics, go for it!

Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit

Don’t Leave Me Asunder

Word Count: 31.1k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky Warnings: None Synopsis: Like many other war veterans, Bucky Barnes is alone. He doesn't talk to his family, he has no friends and his only human interactions are with his cleaning crew from Avengers Tower. Plagued by nightmares and pain, he lives each day in isolation. Until the Avengers bring their fight at home and Bucky gets to meet the famous Captain America. To his surprise, both their lives change forever after that.

Far Strayed

Word Count: 18.3k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Post CACW, Pre Infinity War Warnings: None Synopsis: “They’re not going to stop coming after me,” Bucky tells Steve, somewhere in the air above Siberia. “Let them come,” Steve replies, furious still. After Siberia, instead of seeking refuge in Wakanda, Bucky and Steve go on the run.

All My Chances Again

Word Count: 20.6k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Time Travel, Endgame Fix-It Warnings: Smut Synopsis: I love him, Steve thinks into the spiraling ether; I love him; let me tell him. Give me the chance to set that one thing right. If I can’t rest for saving him, let me give him all of me and hope that it’s enough. Or; Steve gets lost in the time matrix, and begs for an out. Seems confession is good for the soul—or so he hopes.

I, Barnes

Word Count: 76.7k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Bi!Steve, Bi!Bucky, Period-Typical Homophobia Warnings: Heavy Smut, Talk of Suicide, Non-Consenual Vouyerism, Panic Attacks Synopsis: When Steve finally finds Bucky and brings him home to New York, their reunion doesn't go as planned. Bucky disappears into the bowels of the tower, avoiding Steve at all costs. Bucky believes himself to be broken beyond repair, unworthy of any contact with Steve Rogers. But having finally gotten a taste of being around Steve again, Bucky can't just leave - he needs Steve. In ways he believes prove he's a monster unfit to live.

If Steve Rogers Were Your Boyfriend

Word Count: 70.2k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Cafe!AU, Barista!Steve, Author!Bucky Warnings: Abusive Relationship (not Steve and Bucky) Synopsis: When he's not editing a magazine he truly loathes or navigating a rocky relationship he truly doesn't deserve, Bucky Barnes writes a fantasy romance column with an unexpectedly loyal internet following about the barista at his favorite cafe. Barista Boyfriend makes these other worlds bearable, but the real world dreamboat isn’t remotely involved; Steve Rogers is just a muse. Everyone loves the column. And it definitely isn’t killing Bucky very gently in 500 word increments, not in the slightest. What kind of a writer can't keep fact and fiction straight? James Fuckin' Barnes, that's who.

Love Me Tender

Word Count: 13.1k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Canon Divergence Warnings: None Synopsis: Steve is captured by Hydra, who for lack of any other containment options, activate the Winter Soldier and order the man to "take care of Captain America". They really should have been more specific. - OR: Taking care of Captain America is a task that the Soldier's body seems to remember how to do, even if he doesn't understand why.

Falling Back on Forever

Word Count: 24k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Revenge Road Trip, Identity Porn Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky falls from the train in 1945. Steve jumps right after him. The Winter Soldier and the Midnight Patriot are the world's most feared duo, serving HYDRA and leaving a trail of bodies a mile wide behind them. But then they remember.

Wishes and Words

Word Count: 48.2k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Fantasy!AU, Prince!Steve Warnings: Smut, Past Torture Synopsis: Life is going great until the day Bucky Barnes finds Crown Prince Steven Grant bleeding out on his lands. Then it only gets better.

How Bucky Barnes Won His Second Pulitzer

Word Count: 11.6k Rating: General Audience Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Protective Steve Warnings: None Synopsis: It isn’t like him and Steve go out frequently. Sometimes he’ll stop by Bucky’s apartment and they’ll binge watch tv shows, or Steve will tell him stories from ‘back in the day’. They’ve only gone out in public two or three times and it was merely quick runs to get coffee, or more popcorn. So Bucky really doesn’t understand where this Hydra asshole is coming from when he says: “The reason we took you is because we know the Captain will come running right into our trap.” (aka: bucky is an award winning journalist who really doesn't appreciate being used as bait for a beefed up, spandex-clad super soldier.)

Maybe This Christmas

Word Count: 24.8k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Christmas Warnings: None Synopsis: Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

6 Avenue Local

Word Count: 10.6k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: No Powers!AU, Veteran!Bucky, Graphic Designer!Steve Warnings: None Synopsis: It takes a moment for Steve to add up the features on the man in front of him: those blue-grey eyes, a cleft chin, high cheekbones. Sure, he's older, dirtier, taller, but there's only one person Steve knew who looked like that. "Bucky?" he asks. "Bucky Barnes?" It's been so long since he's said that name out loud. "Yeah, I..." Bucky pauses. "Oh fuck," he says. "I missed my stop." Steve smiles. “Wanna get a burger?” he asks, noting the happy coincidence that Bucky Barnes, of all the people in New York, fell asleep in the same subway car that Steve would walk into, and missed his stop. “Sure,” Bucky says with a shrug. “I could eat.”

Kingdom Come

Word Count: 8.2k Rating: Teen and Up Notable Tags: Missions Gone Wrong, Angst w/ Happy Ending Warnings: Near Death Experience Synopsis: “It’s too late, Steve,” Bucky’s voice across the comm is flat, layered with static. “The deadlock’s irreversible. S’the only way.” Steve knows what nearly dying feels like; knows it better than most, and this—those words, that voice, this impossible burning that courses through him like the serum in reverse, this. This is so much worse than nearly.

Just Me, You, and These Shitty Cigarettes

Word Count: 39.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Modern!AU, Veteran!Bucky, Barista!Bucky, Artist!Steve Warnings: Smut, Dubious Consent Synopsis: Steve Rogers is pretty sure Natasha's new roommate is trying to kill him. Which he wouldn't mind considering he's been helplessly in love with him since they were thirteen.

Where All Roads Lead

Word Count: 46.1k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Time Travel, Historian!Bucky Warnings: Smut Synopsis: When Steve Rogers inadvertently touches a relic in the course of a mission gone sideways during WWII, he’s catapulted seventy years into the future. Before he's even sure where he's ended up, his search for help puts him in contact with Bucky Barnes, a historian and college professor who has built a career around studying Captain America. With Bucky's help, Steve means to find out how exactly he ended up in 2017, and solve the bigger mystery of how to get home. There's just one problem. The closer they get to their goal, the less certain Steve is that he wants to go home.

Énoument

Word Count: 77.9k Rating: Mature Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Meet-Cute Warnings: Smut Synopsis: When Steve first met Sergeant James Barnes during the New York invasion, he flipped Steve off for calling him a civilian, then roundhouse kicked an alien in the face. They haven't stopped talking to each other ever since, and Steve thought it was normal for him to latch onto the first person who befriended him after coming out of the ice. Nope, turns out he was just pining.

Closed Book

Word Count: 38.8k Rating: Explicit Notable Tags: Amnesia Warnings: Smut Synopsis: Bucky woke up with a headache, a mouth that tasted like something had died in it, and hands-down, swear-to-god, the most beautiful man he had ever seen asleep in his lap. Bucky was also, he realized after a moment, strapped down to a hospital bed with about six different monitors making unsynced, equally piercing, beeps. Beyond that he couldn’t quite see—there was a hideous floral curtain pulled around the bed, and while he could just make out figures moving in the room beyond it, the pattern made his head pound even worse the longer he looked at it. So. That was concerning.

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky fic #starbucks #wintersheild #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier

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heloflor · 3 years ago

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Sooo, with summer coming to an end (god the passage of time was weird this year), here’s an update about the direction my blog’s going to take.

1. About 9-10 months ago, I started imagining ideas for a Dakavendish fic called “As Time Passes”. Fun fact : the idea started from my very first MML fic, which I wrote on paper but never posted (I know it’s the very first because I mention having a new ship in the beginning). I then started building from this one chapter, turning it into more than a random oneshot. Due to that, I firstly saw “As Time Passes” as a rather short fic and basically made some kind of “skeleton” of a story by dividing the main ideas I had into chapters, thinking that it would be enough to write the story.

Recently though, I decided to take this fic a lot more seriously (maybe a little too much) and so for the last month I’ve been working on really fleshing it out, writing down info for OCs, places, how BOTT works, have a doc with info for the time-periods visited etc and want to write for each chapter what I precisely want to put in, which includes chapters that make the story take its time and progress slowly (hence why just writing down the main chapters ideas doesn’t work anymore for this fic).

As of right now, I’m close to finishing the planning phase and I already have pretty much anything I need to finish the prologues. So I’ll try to finish prologue 2 by the end of the month, but I can’t make any promises (the first prologue is already posted and looking at the date makes me sigh because I’m taking so much time for fuck’s sake !)

Aside from this fic, I also came up with three other ideas for oneshots talking about the rogue arc (because of course I did…) + something about “A Christmas Peril” and maybe something random. But I want to focus on Prologue 2 before working on those.

2. Miitopia. When the game came out on 3ds, I played the game a lot and made a team with Undertale characters (more precisely Humantale but that’s beside the point).

So when the game came out on switch, I bought it and made characters for the team using my current obsession, aka MML. And with my wish to complete the game 100%, I play it on a daily basis (trying to get my main level 50 for all jobs, currently 6 more to go). This means that I have quite a lot of pics and videos of it.

For a while now I’ve been wishing to share all of those pics and videos but never took the time to do it. So I might as well do so now. Because this game is very dumb and I absolutely ADORE it for that and I really wanna share some of the stuff these miis say.

Btw I don’t trust myself to do cartoon characters with the mii maker tool so my team is made of miis that resemble the characters. I also used other people’s shared miis for any non-team character and some are pretty funny fits.

I’ll probably make a tag like “Milotopia” to put all this spam in since I don’t really want it to show up on the show or the game’s tag .

3. As mentioned in the part about “As Time Passes”, I made something that describes precisely how I see BOTT work (different jobs possible, rules, how to become an agent, ranks, even emergencies procedures) and I’ve been wishing to share it.

That’s actually why I made a few posts Thursday, I was trying to get myself to post this.

Because the “”“issue””” is, there’s a part in this BOTT infodump about how, no matter how inclusive BOTT is trying to be, agents face discriminations since the agency is about time-traveling. So I talk about the limitations the agents are forced to comply with when time-traveling (you know like how some of my fics have Cavendish worrying about homophobia, forcing the duo to hide their relationship ?).

But since I never talk politics or social issues on this blog (I want my blog to be a space where people can just read about cartoons without worrying about all the stuff going on in our world), I was worried that some people might get the wrong impression from this post.

This worry is actually pretty dumb because, when it comes to social issues, I think my mindset is close to the ones my mutuals have ? To keep it short, let’s just say that, if I had to reblog one post that talks about those topics, it would be that one post saying “this blog supports POC/queer people/autistic people/every religion etc + dni if you’re a p*do, f*cist, exclusionist etc”

Tbh I think I’m going to reblog that post after all. Also I could probably take the time to add something in my bio (like a “exclusionist/f*cist/p*do dni” type of thing).

But still, since I’m afraid for no reason to have troubles with this post, I’ll keep the info about BOTT on the side for now. I’ll most likely post it after Prologue 3 of “As Time Passes” since it’s in the topic.

Though, if some people read this and get really curious about the BOTT info and start requesting it, I guess I’ll consider it okay to post it sooner ? 🤷‍♂️

4. Regarding the end of summer : So I’m currently 21 and have been studying for the past few years. But with the pandemic, working from home had been really hard for me.

Right now, I’m at a stage in my studies where I can take a break (I don’t live in the US). And since I’m a privileged bastard with parents who won’t throw me out, I’ll be taking a break in my studies this year. This means that I’ll have the time to be more active here (since I’ll have time to write).

I’ll also start streaming video games by the end of the fall. I haven’t touched a mario game in months and I’m really missing it.

Tbh I’m mostly taking the year off because I know for a fact that, if I study while still forced to stay at home, I’ll fail for sure. So I’m hoping that things will get better next year.

Though, it also feels good to say “fuck you” to the system and simply take a year for myself, trying new things, write more, maybe learn to draw, finally having the time to focus on starting my transition.

But yeah, long story short, I’ll be around more, probably will post more, and I’ll do gaming livestreams in which I would most likely encourage people to talk to me about cartoons (yes I’m going to use streams as an excuse to infodump). I might also take some of my longest posts and make them on a video format, but It’ll take a while since I need some experience on editing for that.

5. I might start reblogging more texts posts from more shows I never talked about but watched.

#Flor talks #personal #a random little update #like each time I leave tumblr for a while #now time to go back to find that post to reblog #and then go back to write prologue 2 #It's going to be such a long chapter...#that's what happens when you get attached to OCs and want to tell their story #then tomorrow I might start posting some mii//topia #(I love this game so much you have no idea)#long post

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glottia-arts · 4 years ago

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For the honor of the Captain

Man, this took a lot longer to finish than I expected, having to deal with internet issues (I'm gonna write on my comp from now on instead of google docs), focus, and lack of ideas of how to get from point A to point Z. I apologize for the million year wait, @emizel, but this fic is finally finished! It probably wasn't worth the wait, but I still hope you enjoy regardless!

For anyone else reading, this is an AU for emizel's and my plot for MediEvil. Everything's mostly the same for this universe, the only difference is, is that emizel's character, Hilda, wound up turning into the Boiler Guard, Hecate. She is also very AU-ish on her own since this was my initial idea I had for her, but even though it's not the canon for the exact AU, emizel still encouraged my idea of this.

Warning: Character death, but they're already dead so does it entirely count?

Word Count: 4,344 _____

It was hard focusing on the task presented, worrying for the other residents of the castle. It was announced hours ago that Sir Daniel Fortesque approached the lair, having overtaken the fleet captain’s ship. The would-be hero was on a winning streak that far exceeded their own, and it was downright pitiful how he lucked out against Zarok’s army. Today, that would end. At least, that’s what Hecate hoped.

Her gaze had shifted to the gate several times during hers and Zarok’s preparations to shift into the last stage and conquer Gallowmere once and for all. The mechanical mage couldn’t help her actions, anxiety plaguing her mind on who would come from that entrance. No one was allowed in other than the Captain of the Boiler Guards, requiring to report his success. Sir Daniel, the blighter, would not adhere to such rules.

Kesten was strong, she’s always known this despite denying the concept in the beginning, but he’s lost several times over to that skeleton. This previous time he returned from the repair bay, there was a notable mark Fortesque left on the guard’s chest. The thought infuriated her once more, mixing with fear for the captain. What sort of powers had Fortesque obtained to harm her captain?

Hecate stumbled in her work, somewhat embarrassed from that silly mishap. Why was she thinking about it in a notion other than following under him? Her arms grew a little hazy in her flustered state, berating herself for such thoughts. Though she tried to ignore them, she couldn’t help but focus on it now.

Brief memories of their time serving under Master Zarok together filled her memory, her boiler growing full with happiness. The happiest she’s ever been since her creation has always been with him. Even before they began interacting outside of business, those times were special to her as well, no matter how dull.

Her furnace burned hotter, imagining how many more memories they could create when Zarok finally seized control of Gallowmere. It was a grand task and though it would be sometime before they could have peace to themselves, she relished the idea of relaxing with him. No hero’s to worry about and a brief respite from orders sounded heavenly to her. Perhaps they should venture out on their own accord for some alone time, with Zarok’s permission of course.

The sound of chugging metal caught both hers and her lord’s attention; Someone was coming by train. Hecate couldn’t run fast enough to the balcony to look at who arrived, her professionalism long forgotten. Zarok followed her at a much calmer pace, a barely audible chuckle escaping him prior to reaching her side.

“I believe that is the quickest I’ve seen you move yet, Hecate. You must be excited to witness the results of our defenses.”

If he wished to call it that, sure.

It felt like centuries waiting for her master’s creation to halt, her eyes glued to the opening as footsteps sounded off. Something dropped in her core, noticing the silhouette emerging from the shadows was not that of who she hoped for. Entering from the darkness and stepping to the center of the chamber was Sir Daniel Fortesque, scuffed up, but still roaming the earth.

Zarok disappointedly muttered to himself, “So Kesten failed again I see. I suppose it cannot be helped.”

Hecate struggled to hear her Master through the fog that now clouded her mind, her focus solely on the knight below them. Even the movements he made while addressing the hero and thereafter hardly caught her attention. Her boiler grew scorching hot the minute she caught sight of something that did not belong to Fortesque as he moved around; one of Kesten’s knives hung on the skeleton’s waist.

Her fists clenched as she placed them on the balcony to lean over the ledge.

Why does he have that!?

She was brought out of her anger at the touch of a hand, reminding her of her position and company. Standing tall, Hecate did her best to remain calm in front of her Master and the enemy. The idea was good on paper, but nothing could quell the rage boiling inside.

How dare he keep a trophy of their battle! He continues to mock Kesten, even after defeating him.

It disgusted her to witness the false hero carry that on him, only to have it as a prize. She watched as the blade went unused against the Fazghouls, only using that chalice to keep his summoned spirits afloat.

Coward, won’t even fight his own battles.

A flaming chain shot out at the cur, forcing him to dodge and her eyes to keep up with his movements. With the Fazghouls defeat, Master Zarok’s very last line of defense appeared; Lord Kardok.

Hecate knew the champion had seen the item when he sent a glance her way. She stiffened at the unwanted and unneeded attention and pity, feeling as if she’d break down from his gaze. Kardok must have picked up on this, returning his attention to his opponent and begun unleashing an unhuman assault of fiery madness upon him. She could tell he was just as furious over the news of Kesten’s loss as her, albeit for a different reason. He didn’t shy away from letting the hero know his own hatred in the form of several lashes.

The skeleton struggled as the attacks struck him but nevertheless managed to survive. Just when she thought Lord Kardok might be winning, the enemy pulled out a glove and channeled a lightning attack to push him back.

Clenching her fist, Hecate went rigid.

That must be the weapon that gave Kesten that mark.

It made sense. Lightning was one of the few substances that left scorch marks, especially on a Boiler Guard. The woman doubted he had any explosion inducing weapons on him, but she shouldn’t underestimate him; it was a mystery how he damaged Kesten until now after all.

In the brief respite, Dan downed a potion of some sorts even with Kardok’s soldiers coming to aid him. They were swiftly defeated with that accursed blue sword of his. Lord Kardok, not having gone against him before, was left unaware of the weapon’s strength. A briefing on it differed from facing the blade himself, and he more than likely believed he could handle it. His horse on the other hand…

Circling around towards the hero to ram him, Sir Daniel evaded the undead with a somersault. The sly cur put enough force into his arm as he went, the large blade colliding with the horse’s limbs to send the once majestic beast crashing to the ground. A loud cry fell from the pair’s mouths on their impact, a small pillar of fire following the collision. Cunning as the knight was, he knew to stay away as Kardok’s horse stood on fractured bones, ready to continue. The larger skeleton hit the ground with the mace ball, an enormous wall of fire shot at the hero, knocking him to his knees. Galloping to the now kneeling skeleton, Kardok’s horse was ready for revenge, leaving fire in their wake. Now on top of Fortesque, the creature released an angered neigh as they raised their hooves to bring them down on their enemy. Fortune continued to grace the skeleton, once again dodging the attack. Lucky for them, it positioned Sir Daniel point-blank to the horses flaming legs. He avoided the initial attack unscathed, but the burst of hellfire erupting from the stomp got him, sending the skeleton up into the air.

Yes! Lord Kardok has him!

With the skeleton defenseless, Lord Kardok began twirling the flail in his hand, murder looming in his eyes.

Perhaps he could never defeat Kesten, but destroying his ender would be the next best thing. She thought a little somberly.

Making his final descent, Sir Daniel still refused to give up now fiddling with his pouch. Kardok noticed this and flung the chain with as much force as possible, sparks of light radiating from the tool. The airborne skeleton glanced to the oncoming weapon, panic setting in with its speed, forcing him to feverishly dig through the bag, finally producing three daggers. With a flick of his wrist, a blade sped to collide with the spiked ball, another following to deter its path, and the final one to knock it in an alternate direction.

Hecate watched this all take place and was baffled that someone with one eye had the precision to achieve the accomplished task. Yes, she and every worker that mattered around here lacked physical eyes, but they didn’t require them.

She knew Zarok was stunned as well, his own body now bending over as he clutched his head with his free hand.

Unseen to the horsemen was Daniel’s hand reaching into his quiver, pulling out three glowing arrows.

Hecate knew what that meant.

Warrior pride be damned, she had to interfere. Her magic traveled faster than Zarok’s and though she required time to generate real damaging spells, a quick one should still at least halt Fortesque’s assault.

Her right hand gripped her staff and- wait… why is there nothing? Panicking, she looked to her hand to see it void. Head shooting in every direction seeking the metal rod, Hecate froze.

It’s in the other room near her station. She can’t run fast enough to get it either!

Head snapping towards the arena, time seemed to slow as Sir Daniel fired an arrow. Hecate felt sluggish as she bolted to the edge, trying to yell out for Kardok to move. Only, she was too late. The projectile had struck and created a blue explosion, merging with the red flames of the skeleton and his steed. Another arrow struck, further increasing the mass. The mage nearly dropped to her knees as the last arrow struck, a thundering cry echoing from the arena as Kardok went up into magical flames. In an instant, Zarok’s champion was no more.

She stared at the spot where her ally once stood, unbelieving what she watched. Zarok’s best warrior was incinerated. His greatest soldiers were gone. The elite guard he had so painstakingly created had fallen. Who’s to say what happened to everyone else in the castle.

Her mind went to Scrap, recalling the other Boiler Guards gave them an important task to carry out. What the mission was, she had no inkling, but her emotions plagued her still. Something wanted to escape from the openings of her eye plate. The shadow of the feeling brought a sense of questionable nostalgia. She has never experienced this before, yet it seems so familiar.

Dead eyes shifting to Fortesque, she nearly saw red. He made a safe return to the ground and was storing his bow away, eye looking to Zarok.

The wizard slammed his staff down in frustration. “Bugger! Right then, that’s it! I’ve just about had enough of your meddling!”

As he spun to leave, she called out, “Master Zarok, wait…”

He paused, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “What is it, Hecate? Can’t you see that I’m in the midst of something?”

Slowly facing him, she squeezed her hands, hardly feeling them anymore. “Let me fight your enemy, milord.” Brow raised, Zarok’s mouth down-turned further, unconvinced. Continuing, she did her best to not rattle. “Please… I can take him. You shouldn’t waste your valuable time on him, sir. My magic will destroy him before you know it.”

His dark eyes cast on the floor, gripping his chin with his free hand in thought. “You do have the best means to dispose of him… but you severely lack the speed which Kardok and Kesten possessed.”

Hecate flinched at the mention of Kesten’s name but continued. “I need just one hit and he’s easy prey. He’s tired from battling as well, Master, more vulnerable to mistakes.”

Zarok continued to stare at the floor, and she was thankful the skeleton below didn’t scale the wall to come after them. Her Master was good for split decision making, but right now he was struggling.

A few seconds later he sighed, reluctantly nodding. “Alright. But the second I find you unfit to battle, I am stepping in. With Kesten out of the painting, you have no means of protection.”

Her voice was lost to her, bowing in response before treading to the rear chamber to retrieve her staff. Picking up the forgotten rod, she clenched it so hard she was hoping to leave a dent. Her strength was not like his though. A small sob made it past her throat. She couldn’t focus on him right now, she had a skeleton to exterminate.

Reigning in her emotions, Hecate descended the stairway to the corridor that led to the arena. Blanketed by the dark, Sir Daniel did not see her, but she could clearly see him. Her ire reignited anew, and this time, she did not have to save face. Lingering no longer, she strode into the light with her staff in hand, preparing a spell. Might as well get a head start with a powerful one.

Sir Daniel’s unwavering sight now set on her fed the fire further. Surprising her, he stowed his regular blade on his belt, making no move to draw any of his other fancy weapons.

Was he already giving up?

Almost laughing to herself, Hecate shook her head. Sir Daniel knew how to tick her off. “Is this some game to you, Fortesque? You dare mock not only me but the other warriors you’ve fought within the castle walls! Draw your weapon!”

Shaking his head, he replied with near incomprehensible speech. “Nuh-uh.”

Furious as is, she was inflamed now. Literally. Sparks of fire radiating from her boiler. “I don’t mind an easy win, but it is disgraceful to those who fell if you don’t show me the same respect!”

The skeleton shrugged as he kicked the ground, seeming uninterested in what she had to say.

Magical attack nowhere near its full potential, Hecate aimed the staff head at him. She would have liked some form of a challenge and sweet revenge, but if he preferred to play that card, she’d send him back to where he belonged.

“Fine! Burn in hell, Fortesque!” Without as much of a warning, the blast of vile magic soared to him.

Sir Daniel’s attention finally drew to the speedy attack, sweating bullets by the looks of it. It was too late for him. He dug his grave with the lack of regard.

In a completely unexpected turn of events, he drew Kesten’s knife at the last second, a sense of fear following.

What was he doing!? She wanted to recover that after he perished, she couldn’t recover ashes!

Her thoughts were put on a screeching halt in the next minute; Sir Daniel had used the knife and sliced her spell in half, both parts disintegrating in on themselves.

Dumbfounded was an under exaggeration: What the hell happened!?

Apparently, he had not expected the results either, glancing in both directions where the fragments of her attack passed. Once it was confirmed he had in fact deflected the magic, his posture was more jovial as he shot her a smug look.

“Where did you get that knife!?” Both combatants focused on Zarok, his pale complexion somehow even paler. “Forget that, where did you learn you could do that!?”

Attention drawn to the skeleton, he twirled the weapon, shrugging.

“Hecate, you need to be more cautious with your attacks! That knife was enchanted in the event your magic ever grew out of control. It can destroy or deflect your attacks!”

Her head could not have angled toward Zarok any faster. “It what!? Why did you not tell me this before I came down here!? Actually, why was I not informed of this prior!?” Catching herself, she hurriedly added, “M-Master Zarok, forgive me, but it would have been nice to know everything about my partner’s artillery!”

“Now’s not the time for this conversation, Hecate, it was a ‘what if’ scenario. I didn’t expect the fool would use Kesten’s knife, let alone the enchanted one. It was hardly worth mentioning.”

This was knowledge she should have received at an earlier point. Like a few decades earlier! Why didn’t Zarok trust her with this information? What else was he hiding from her? Was Kesten aware he had an enchanted blade?

“I recognize that look Hecate, but you need to focus on the battle. Unless you call for my intervention?”

“No, sir. That is unnecessary.” A small amount of venom underlined her words, still not thrilled at the secret.

Footsteps began approaching, dragging her focus back to her foe. Taking aim, she flung another mass of energy at him, much weaker in contrast to the last. As before, Daniel deflected the blast with the knife. Panic overtook her as doubt set in for her abilities. She was better than this! Hecate began firing multiple spells at the skeleton as she backed away, desiring to maintain the distance in between them. Every attack cast was diverted or dodged as he advanced, her precision further faltering.

He was so close now.

She was unable to send an attack out as he was practically on top of her, slashing the knife straight down. Thankfully, she still had enough common sense to use her staff and block the attack. Much to her surprise, there wasn’t much force behind it. Hecate knew Sir Daniel was putting his all into it, his body tense from applying as much pressure as possible.

A wicked smile formed on her ‘lips’. The earlier fights exhausted him, leaving her the stronger of the two. How pitiful.

Humoring him, she gradually kneeled to one knee, pretending to struggle in their altercation. Almost leaning down to both, Hecate flipped the tables; pushing off her hind leg with as much force as she could, she effortlessly threw Dan off his footing, making him backtrack to catch his balance. Staff now free, it was used to strike at Sir Daniel’s legs, knocking him to the ground. She slammed the end of the object onto his torso to keep him in place, adjusting her hold as she approached.

Laughter burst from the balcony, almost camouflaging the sound of the train making its return. Hecate could only assume it was reinforcements, but she chose to ignore it in favor of her prey.

“My, my, how the mighty have fallen. I expected more of a fight from you, Fortesque, but I see my colleagues had all the fun.” She channeled her magic into her staff, the action not unnoticed by the hero. “I would have preferred a fair fight,” The skeleton eyed her incredulously, but she continued, “but I understand with the weapon you carry, it wouldn’t have been much of one. It’s a shame it all has to end like this. I was dying to disintegrate you piece by piece, make you wish you were never reanimated. I suppose we can’t all get what we desire in the end, no?”

The train outside stopped, unknown metallic sounds following, echoing into the night and room.

Staff nearly charged, Hecate felt more enraged as Sir Daniel looked to the entrance, a smile forming on his boney face.

“What are you staring at!?” His smug eye glanced back to her as soon as the creaking stopped. “You’re about to rejoin the dead and you have the nerve to smile at me like that!?”

“Hecate.”

Shocked at the interruption, she lost all concentration on her spell.

That voice…

Slowly, Hecate’s head twisted to the entrance, eyes unbelieving. “Kesten..?”

Low and behold, standing proud as ever with his firearm was the Captain of the Boiler Guards, Kesten. Several pieces of armor were missing, particularly the entirety of his left arm and parts of his legs, and was banged up to hell, but here he was. Standing. Still alive.

Her body shook, relieving pressure off the skeleton beneath, the conflict essentially forgotten.

“Well, well, you survived I see, Kesten.” The commander’s attention diverted from her to their Master. “But my oh my, you were in quite the brawl, weren’t you? I’m impressed you’re still standing with all that grime and incisions to your plating. Hecate was about to finish up taking care of Fortesque-”

Zarok was cut off as Kesten swiftly held his gun up, firing at the Wizard. A yelp sounded from him, dodging in the nick of time but not quite escaping the bullet. A string of blood escaped the wound that was now present along Zarok’s left cheek.

Hecate stared at the Captain, shocked at what he did. Zarok, likewise, slammed his staff down.

“Kesten! What has gotten into you!? Fortesque is your enemy, not me!”

Smoke now evaporated from the blunderbuss, Kesten lowered it. “I will fight your battles no longer, Zarok. You’ve used Hecate and I for far too long in this selfish game of yours to control Gallowmere.”

Appalled, the Wizard sneered at him. “What are you getting at, Kesten? I created you two and I can dismantle you both if I so choose!”

“I believe you’re aware of what you stole from both of us, Zarok.” Angling his head in her direction, he spoke words she didn’t expect to hear. “Captain, your orders!”

Still stunned, it was easy for Sir Daniel to knock her staff off himself and roll out of the way into a standing position. Dusting himself off, the skeleton shrugged.

“I think we know what the end goal here is, Kesten.”

Kesten nodded before truly focusing on her. Hecate struggled to pay attention to either of them as she backed up, confused more than ever. What was happening? Why was Kesten acting so strange? Why was he being friendly with their enemy? She didn’t understand.

“Hecate, don’t just stand there, kill them!”

She froze at the command, clutching her staff tight.

Kill… Kesten? She just… got him back. Surely he was jesting… right?

Hecate stared at the Boiler Guard, conflicted. She received direct orders from the Master, but this was Kesten. Could she bring herself to go through with it? To kill the one she grew so fond of?

“Hecate, don’t listen to him, he’s been manipulating us this whole time.” Zarok sent a green bolt of magic his way, sidestepping it he was forced to glimpse between both magic users.

“Be quiet, you malfunctioning miscreant!”

Smoke wafted from Kesten, the telltale signs of anger rearing its head. “I’m working better than ever without your mind control spell plaguing my mind you wretch!”

Another blast of magic fired and missed, this time on Zarok’s account. “What would make you assume such a thing, Kesten?” A brief pause before the wizard began cackling and gestured to Dan. “Was it that good-for-nothing knight over there? I knew he had a way with words, but to fool you? I’m appalled you believed such drivel.”

Smoke exploded out of Kesten’s boiler and even his unarmored arm started to dissipate into steam. Verbal anger was one thing with the Captain; frightening and something to avoid at all costs. This new silent rage spoke of danger, putting Hecate on edge.

The Captain appeared normal, but he had changed in so little time. It was like he was someone else. Did Kesten speak the truth with mind control? Or was Zarok correct in Kesten’s impairment?

Hecate weighed the facts and all sources pointed to…

With an iron grip on her staff, she channeled magic into it. Fear and anger coursed through her body, adrenaline high as her head snapped to Sir Daniel. His expression grew nervous once more, holding his hands up in a placating matter.

He murmured out to Kesten, seeking to gain the Captain’s attention while also not trying to set Hecate off.

“You… this is your fault.” Now it was her turn to slam the end of her staff down, the action causing the tip to glow brightly. Unable to stop a palm from moving, she gestured about while yelling at the skeleton. “Everything was fine until you returned from the grave! We would have conquered Gallowmere and not lost anyone without your interference! You destroyed everyone I knew! Damaged the Captain!” She took aim, unhearing the fast footfall and explosions going on behind her. “I won’t forgive you for that, Fortesque! For my Captain and Zarok’s honor, I will destroy yo-urk!”

Sharp pain in the backside of her boiler forced her to preemptively fire her attack, missing the undead by just a fraction. She hasn’t experienced this kind of pain since her early years, back when she believed she could handle everything without Kesten. The woman couldn’t even move her body, it hurt so bad. Still, she forced herself to twist her head and see if she could make out the offender. Her body began to shake more beyond the physical injury.

“W-why..?”

Towering behind her was Kesten, leaning over some but still shadowing over her. With his close proximity and the green and black smoke that billowed from her body, she already knew what had caused the suffering. He had stabbed her in the back with his knife.

Zarok’s ranting and cursing was audible, but no outside sounds registered. All senses were hyper-focused on the Captain.

Pain erupted once more as she felt the knife leave her, but it stung nothing like the silence of the other Boiler Guard. The discomfort grew as she stumbled to her knees, unable to look at him further. Her staff dropped in favor of curling in on herself, clutching at her midsection. The effort caused the injury in her back to ache worse, but she did not care. The sting of betrayal brought a distorted choke from her.

Another chill shook her frame as she heard a soft click, followed by the barrel of a gun pressing to the back of her head.

Every sense all but faded away, her concentration on the weapon. One thing she thought she might have imagined was the soft words of “I’m sorry” before everything went dark. _____

Part 2 Part 3

#Kesten #Hecate #Boiler Guard #original character #MediEvil #Zarok #Sir Daniel Fortesque #Lord Kardok #AU #glottia writes

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years ago

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Author Spotlight: Coffeegleek Day 1

Author : @coffeegleek

How did you get into Glee and Glee fandom?

I saw the premier when it aired during the summer and was hooked. Having been burned by a fandom shortly before that, I tried to resist joining Glee fandom. Then about halfway through Glee airing routinely, I could resist no longer. I needed more. I needed the interaction with other fans that weren't immediate family. (Hub and son love the show, but were watchers and not into fandom.)

In general, what drew you into writing (and/or creating)?

I'd written for other fandoms before as well as a lot of original poetry and science fiction. One day I finally caved and co-wrote two crack Klaine fics. About a year or two later, I wrote more crack fics that got no traction on tumblr so I stopped writing for a long time. (I was and still am a small fish in a large fandom pond, though that pond has shrunk now that the show is long over.) Then a couple of years ago, my son left for university and I couldn't shake this one small fic idea I had about Burt and Carole as empty nesters. I had to get it out and it exploded into this huge verse. In-between those fics I wrote more crack fics.

What was it about Glee that made you decide to write fanfic for it?

Part of it was Kurt and Blaine being wonderful characters. Part of it was the joy of challenging myself as a writer be it serious stuff or Klaine advent challenges which are fun. Yet another part was to write fics I wanted to read or tropes I wanted to explore more.

Have you been a part of other fandoms before? Have you written fanfiction pre-glee?

Oh, yes! Many fandoms and many fics on many accounts I've long lost user names and passwords to. Out there on FFN is a Buffy/Farscape crossover and a couple of Pretender fanfics. Those are just three of the many fandoms I've been in. I met my spouse through Star Trek fandom and was involved in (and left) the very toxic Fox fandom board for the Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles fandom. (My fandom before Glee.)

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

AU is my crack and I love political Klaine be it Kurt and/or Blaine in politics or as President. I love the ones where Burt is president. Despite being a huge West Wing fan who's rewatched the series multiple times, I don't think I could do a Glee characters in that verse justice. I really wish I could though. Before the pandemic hit, a friend and I were going to do a Blast from the Past movie challenge where folks would write their favorite 1980's and 90's movies with Glee characters. I was all set to write Running on Empty and still have my notes for it.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

A few. Certain kinks and especially those that involve fluids, marking, and mpreg.

Another nope - Large age differences in a consenting relationship. To clarify with a personal experience of why it’s a huge no: There was a guy in my family’s social group who was in his late 60’s/early 70’s who would brag to hub and I (for some reason) about his conquestions with barely legal guys. The things he would say about even younger guys were creepy AF. My out gay son was nearing his preferred age and we (and son) kept Creepy Guy far away from him. No one believed us when we tried to tell them about him. So any kind of huge age gap is a big nope for me unless it’s written as a “this is wrong and not appropriate” because I can’t help but think of the guy everyone else had labeled as But He’s Such a Nice Guy. I’m not criticizing the authors or readers of consensual, everything is happy, large age gap fics. They’re just not for me and I accept my bias.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I want to finish writing/expanding a fic for my Empty Nest verse that takes place between A Nest of Scars and Empty Nest. I also have a few one shots between Kurt and Carole and Kurt and Burt that I keep writing in my head while cooking, but never getting them onto a google doc. I want to finish last year's Klaine Advent challenge fic entitled, A Very Weird Christmas Adventure. I was so close to being done and had it all figured out too. I'd also like to write the Running on Empty crossover fic. I love that movie so much. I'd love to tackle a Handmaid's Tale crossover, but haven't worked out enough of the logistics for it.

***

Check out Coffeegleek’s Fics

Empty Nest - Revised - Empty Nest started off as just this little thing I was going to write. The idea had been kicking around in my head for a year. There's a stray cat that's taken shelter under our front porch for years & runs whenever he sees us. When my son went off to university, I started thinking about what if the cat was really homeless, hybrid Kurt? And in October of 2017, I finally started to write what was going to be a ficlette & nothing more. It's now late January 2018 & the verse has grown to two fics, a series of Klaine Advent one shots, 98,442 words, & is still going.

When I reached chapter 12 of Rebuilding the Nest, I felt the time had finally come for me to revise the verse, especially Empty Nest, correct any errors I'd missed before, & clean up the time line inconsistencies. When I first started writing, I had no clear cut idea of how hybrids had come about or what they were like. I was just going with the usual trope flow. As chapters went on, I fell more & more back on my science fiction writing roots & established them as a single evolved race. That was my biggest change to Empty Nest & reason for the revision.

I hope you enjoy it.

Rebuilding the Nest - Sequel to Empty Nest and takes place immediately after. Kurt is a runaway, homeless feline hybrid. Burt and Carole are empty nesters who see him sleeping under their porch. During the months that follow, Kurt slowly learns to trust them. Unlocking the door to the Hummel's enclosed back porch was a huge step. There were so many more left to go.

Burt's Nest - This is a retelling of Empty Nest and Rebuilding the Nest from Burt’s POV. While it does stand alone, in order to fully understand Kurt’s actions and experiences, the original fics should be read first. In short: Burt discovers a homeless hybrid teenager sleeping under his front porch and takes him in. This fic let me get out all my parenting and love of Burt and Carole feels. If you notice a blatant take on the racism and homophobia pervading the U.S. in this dystopian verse, then I’ve done my job expressing part of the bag of emotions I feel as the parent of gay, POC, young adult son. The same trigger warnings for the previous fics apply here as well, though not all chapters have them. Please see the tags.

#author spotlight #coffeegleek

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tartagilicious · 5 years ago

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recollection / shaw bai

did I write a fic for someone we’ve interacted with twice? yes. // w.c: 1.9k // requested by @bridgetysm

[cloud boy by sabby sousa]

—

“___!”

A familiar, shockingly loud voice filled my ears, startling my eyes into focus. I remember that day almost as if it were yesterday, the unnatural feeling of blood pooling in my mouth and beneath the bruises on my forehead so vivid that I could conjure it up even now.

But, another thing that still stands untouched in my memory, is Shaw’s expression in that first moment, clear in the haze of the evening sky. The first face I’d seen in days after being ambushed on my way home from work somehow felt like a new one, his fearful expression even startling me at first. It was uncharacteristic, the way his normally slack face was taut with concern, and how his amber eyes seemed to be drowning in a type of panic I didn’t know he knew how to feel.

But the relief I felt when locking eyes with the very man I’d been hoping to see -- it was still immeasurable.

His breathing had been loud and laboured, but there wasn’t a single part of me that minded, because the slight breeze on my forehead as he worked to untie the bonds I'd been constricted to was all I needed to be reminded that I wasn’t alone anymore.

“You’re safe,” Shaw finally said this after the thin rope fell to the ground, his voice much softer than I had been expecting. “Thank god.”

Something changed that day for both of us. Whether it was in the tender way he touched my beaten skin, or how he stayed by my side that night without a word, I’m not sure. But I don’t find myself wishing it’d never happened, so I can’t say it exactly turned things for the worst.

It was difficult beforehand, and no less annoying to have such a resource at the tip of my fingers that was yet simultaneously so unreachable. I knew that I should’ve known better than to let someone like him into my life, especially in a world where placing trust in someone could mean certain death. But against my better judgement, I decided to stick with him. I made a gamble and chose to have faith in the man whose presence practically reeked of trouble -- in every part of him from the heavy steps of his doc martens up to that cocky smile of his that seemed permanent.

And, likely to the surprise of us both, it wasn’t a waste.

In the beginning, I took his words seriously only because they were all I had. But now, I take them as they are because I’d found a genuine bond in someone I had never expected much from. And truthfully, I expected very little after his spiel the first time we’d met in this winter world, so I admired his willingness to climb out of the hole he’d dug himself into.

I just never thought my admiration would spiral.

Shaw is by no means perfect. He mocks and he teases without a hint of trepidation, he’s never clear, and barely lends his help without being cryptic about it first. But, he also always somehow manages to pop up when I need him, too. He listens better than most, and knows how to joke around until my stomach hurts from laughing too hard.

He gives me a true sense of the term tough love, that’s for sure.

But, it’s not a feeling I can bring myself to hate. Because no matter the roadblocks our situation may place in front of us, a glance into his smiling eyes is always enough to drag me back down to earth -- and I’m grateful for that.

It’s still not an easy feat loving someone like him, though. Shaw is barely ever caught being serious, whether it be in truth or in those he sides with, and it’s admittedly frustrating. The reasons can change per the day, but my insecurity around him all trails back to the same thing:

the fear that he isn’t serious with me.

Relationships can vary greatly, especially when looking at them from a romantic versus friendly standpoint. But in my case, I was pinned with the unceremonious task to watch out for both. Shaw is a wild card in almost any group he chooses to throw himself into, and it didn’t take me long to realise that the same ideal didn’t stop at me.

I’ve spent countless nights awake wondering if his number would still be in my phone the next morning. Hours trying to comb through what I’d said to him that day, and trying to figure out if any of it would upset him enough to make him leave.

But every time, all I’m met with the next morning is the same unchanging arrogant smile, blissfully unaware of all the turmoil I had gone through in preparation to see it again.

This same cycle goes on irritatingly for weeks, and between the stress of Shaw and everything else, my inner scale feels like it’s a hair’s length away from malfunctioning. He should be the least of my problems, but the punk had somehow managed to claw himself to the top of the list anyway.

“Something happen this morning to make you upset, little girl?” Shaw garners my attention with a very true-to-self line. “Or is that just your face?”

I turn to him with a doubtful look, trying to contain my smile. “If you think that’s the case, Shaw, then something’s been coming and ruining my mornings for weeks now.”

Even after copious signs of something changing for the better, Shaw continued to inadvertently push everything aside. With only a signature smug smile, of course.

“Hey, you’re going about it all wrong!” Shaw had tsked at me once for not taking his advice, but still helped me recuperate regardless of his tone.“You’d be running around like a chicken with their head cut off at this rate without me.”

But nothing can go on forever.

“You’re not seriously thinking of going alone, are you?”

Shaw says this to me one night after visiting to warn me of the black cabin’s movement, his expression so oddly incredulous that I almost try to reach up to rub my eyes. I’m caught off guard, and it’s easy to tell when I don’t respond, but Shaw takes my surprise and still continues as naturally as can be.

“You couldn’t ever find it by yourself. Not now, probably not in a hundred years.” It’s obvious that his tone is slightly mocking, but a hopeful part of me wants to believe that he’s still worried nonetheless.

I sigh and turn away, mumbling, “How nice of you to think so.”

He sets his hands down on the kitchen island, putting his full weight down and somehow still managing to look right at home in a place he barely visits. I notice him shrug limply from where I stand next to him, and can’t help the way my heart lurches.

he’s making fun of me again, isn’t he?

I resist the urge to bite down on my lip, fearing that it’ll draw more attention than needed.

“I’m just saying.” He begins with a type of smile that has me preparing for the worst, turning his head to look me in the eye. “Besides, it’s real nice having me around to help, you can’t deny that.”

I find myself answering the question privately in my head, but outwardly, I just roll my eyes and ask, “Maybe now, but probably not for much longer. I doubt you’ll still need me once we’re back in the real world, anyway.”

He doesn’t answer. I think I even catch him hesitating for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a somehow more gentle smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, little girl. That observation of yours only further proves that you’re gonna need as much help as you can get.” He stands up straighter as he speaks, even going as far as to stretch casually.

I give him a look. My delusional heart can’t help but want to stop and selfishly fish out a double meaning to his words, but I go on anyway. “What, so I’m wrong? But even if I am, how am I supposed to know what’s ever running through that head of yours? You still barely tell me anything.”

“Try a bit harder, ___. Same as always. What you know is dependent on your decisions alone.”

I begin to shake my head, hesitantly asking, “...And if I don’t?”

Shaw only stares at me.

“Would it matter to you if I stayed the way I am? Weak and unable to do anything alone?”

I know I’m about to cross a barrier. I know, but I don’t stop. I turn to face him anyway, my expression horribly open after weeks of being schooled.

“Or would you leave me too if that happened?” I ask softly, my lips merging into a natural frown as I drop my head. “Like everyone else?”

I go painfully silent as I search for the right words to say, and in the midst of it, Shaw leans down slightly. I look up just as his nose stops inches from mine, the concern in his eyes just as stark as the surprise in my own.

I feel his breath on my face as he murmurs, “____… what’s this about?”

Words catch in my throat as I gage how close he is, and they stay down with every slow rise and fall of my chest. It stretches into a minute where neither of us speak, but I note his evident patience and gather the courage to restart.

“Well... I just want to know. After everything we’ve been through in this world,” I say, looking up to meet his eyes again. “Would details like that matter? Would you still be here even if I one day say that I can’t do it?”

A flurry of emotions swirl through his eyes, but none come forward in his words, so I say something that I hope will be a good push to get what I need to settle the insatiable thrumming of my heart.

“I don’t know if something like that would really matter to you, but to me, it’s everything. It’s my only connection to you.”

Shaw gulps.

“It’s-- it’s not. Don’t talk like that.”

“How is it not?” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I love you, okay? I love you, Shaw, but I don’t even know whose side you’re on half the time, so why should I have the nerve to think you’ll stay on mine?”

He doesn’t speak, but hesitantly, he reaches up as his thumb comes up to collect the tears that adorn my cheeks, the leather of his fingerless gloves leaving a soft warmth in its wake.

“That sense,” Shaw trails off, his lips slightly parted as his eyes trail down. “It’s well placed, but... unneeded this time.”

I am only given seconds to grasp what he’s said before he maneuvers his hand to support my chin and my mind goes blank. I’m still trying to catch up when he presses his lips to mine, carefully, as if he doesn’t want to startle me.

I feel the tight ball in my chest suddenly release as my frame relaxes, much to his obvious delight, as I kiss back. I had never quite found enough courage to think about what his kisses would feel like, but now I realise that anything I could’ve imagined wouldn’t even come close.

It feels like only seconds before we part again, both of us panting as we cling loosely to each other’s clothing.

“Because I’ll always be on your side, whether you like it or not.”

I let out a small laugh, the look in my eyes softening as I meet his. I see something unfamiliar swimming through his eyes, but somehow, I’m still eager to explore it.

“Then I'll take your word for it.”

[read more of my works here~]

#mr love queen’s choice #mlqc #mr love #mr love queen’s choice shaw #mlqc shaw #mr love shaw #mlqc x reader #mr love queen’s choice x reader #mlqc fic #mlqc imagine #mr love queen’s choice imagine #mlqc xiaoling #mr love xiaoling #mr love queen’s choice xiaoling #this.. I don’t hate it #ngl

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third-rail-vip · 4 years ago

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fic writer interview

Tagged by @adventuresofmeghatron

I’m late so you’ve probably already done this but tagging: @laurelsofhighever @tanaleth @asaara-writes @allisondraste @pchberrytea @red-hot-chili-tiefling

Thank you for tagging me! Sorry it’s taken me forever, my imposter syndrome has been laughing loudly in my face at the idea of being considered a ‘writer’. Please, come in, sit down and have a look see at my complete lack of process or general idea of what’s going on :)

Name: Ginger

Fandoms: Fallout 4 currently. Dragon Age a while back.

Where you post: I put all my full fics on AO3 and if it’s a shorter one then I post the whole thing here on tumblr too. If it’s giant then I post a snippet here with a link to AO3.

Most Popular One-shot: Based on kudos The Wanderers - yeah i’m surprised too. It was my first venture back into writing after taking time out and it was a whole new fandom and a game I was new to. It was a fun silly little exercise in me learning my new otp and working out their fairly early days dynamic.

By comments, it’s Complicated. I’d had that one in mind for a while before writing it (probably why it took 4 rewrites before it felt how I wanted it to). It’s a good bit of post-feral encounter wound tending and hurt/comfort with some feels starting up (or becoming harder to deny).

Most Popular Multichap: I don’t have any multichapter fics any more. Once upon a time I had a Dragon Age Origins one. I’m not good at the commitment of multichapter. I made it 14 chapters into that one and it took me so long to drag myself out of Lothering I took it out back and shot it.

My Fallout one shots are part of an ongoing series - Then I Met You - which is a series of snapshots of Ivy and MacCready relationship (it’s still in pre-relationship stages right now). It’s mostly character driven rather than main plot driven, but it does fit within the fallout 4 canon with some backstory and timeline canon divergence.

Favourite story you’ve written so far: You know what, it’s my least popular Fallout one, but I have a soft spot for Blood & Rain. It’s the second one I wrote and it’s Ivy’s pov with a hint at her pre-war life (she’s a non-canon origin sole survivor). I got to indulge myself in writing descriptions and some action - my old faves from when I used to write (pew pew is way harder to write than stab stab). It’s also got a really important bonding moment between Ivy and MacCready.

Fic you were nervous to post: Every damn one. Sharing anything you’ve made really is putting a little piece of your heart out on a platter for everyone to see and waiting to see what will happen to it. I guess The Wanderers was extra nerve wracking because it was the first thing I wrote after telling myself I’d never go back to writing, it was kind of a make or break experiment. Blood & Rain because of the potentially triggering material, hoping I’d touched personal subjects with enough sensitivity but also still telling the story I needed to.

How do you choose your titles: hahahaha WELL, I finish faffing with the main story in AO3 and then am outraged that I’m expected to have a name ready before I can post it. Honestly though, I’ve no formula. They all have working titles in google docs which tend to be either a vague description of what’s happening, or a song title/lyric that’s running through my head while I write. Like, the current fic I’m working on is ‘mass pike pt 2’ which is a useless title since the part 1 was actually called Gunners & Grudges. And I won’t know until posting day what I’m going to call it.

I did put some serious thought into a title for my series - Then I Met You. I was cycling through song lyrics or things that might be a general vibe for them but settled back on one line from MacCready’s final affinity chat, “then I met you”. And it just fit so well. Meeting each other is a turning point for both of them; whether you just look at it as making a friend in the wasteland, or finding some direction after drifting for too long, or there finally being a glimmer of hope after a long time in the dark (this all counts for both of them), something changed when they met.

Do you outline: Sort of. I have a massive ‘fallout notes’ document where i just jot down whenever i have an idea of something i want to write, or just random bits of dialogue that spring into my mind (that may never see the light of day again). From there, if I want to expand them I tend to bullet point with plot ideas, more dialogue, key backstory or important things I want to cover. I tend to have multiple fics I’m doing this with at once and I bounce between them depending on where my mind has drifted off to that day. By the time I actually come to write something, I tend to have a lot of notes to work from, in fact quite often I have to cut back on all the ideas I wanted to cram in and some things get slotted back into the giant fallout doc for future reference.

Complete: I only have one shots, so technically they’re all complete and can be read, for the most part, individually without you needing to have read the others. They will make sense, there might just be some context from previous one shots in there.

In progress: Then I Met You is an ongoing series for my Mac x Ivy one shots.

Prompts?: I do put prompt list out there for Mac x Ivy when my brain isn’t cooperating and I feel like a need a little extra inspiration. For the current series I’m hoarding them and working them into the context one shots I have planned. Pretty much all my Dragon Age Origins one shots over on AO3 were prompt fills.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Ugh guys we’re getting close to them getting together territory and boy do I wish my brain was being cooperative so I could get these couple of stories in between down on the page and could start working in earnest on those ones. There’s a lazy morning in bed after a big party fic I’m really looking forward to writing (I’m looking forward to both tbh) - any excuse to explore stories behind scars and tattoos and I’m there for it. I’m even getting a commission from the amazing @tarberrymentats for it *discord wiggle*, so yeah, I’m excited about getting to that one!

Anyway thank you for reading my ramblings x

#fic writer interview #my writing #then i met you #mac x ivy

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fabulouspotatosister · 5 years ago

Text

Admit One

summary: You’re nervous about setting up a face painting booth for a year-end fair. The Doctor might have a way to help. or “the face painting thing”, according to my Google Docs title.

a/n: can i tell you guys honestly that this was an excuse for me to write gently touching the doctor’s face? like… no plot, no actual reason. i don’t know, i just got inspired by watching my best friend work at a face painting booth and just being like “god, i wish that were me”. big thanks again to @timelord-winchester-22b and @allamarain (also from the thirsting for thirteen Discord server) for helping me out with some ideas for this fic, y’all are legends and i love you lots.

Deep breaths.

You stared at the ticket pressed between your fingers. It was a nice ticket, colorful and well designed. Printed on the ticket were the words “Year-End Fair”, and below that were different boxes that you could get signed or stamped. Each box had a different label for each booth - a marriage booth, a photo booth, a carnival booth, a movie booth, a lounge booth, and a face painting booth .

Your face painting booth.

You thought it was a good idea. It was just something you wanted to do to give back, use your talents for the community. It seemed like a good idea when you’d suggested it to the organizers of the fair. They’d offered to pay you for your time. It was a good idea.

So what were you so nervous about?

Your old backpack sat on your bed while you fished for all your palettes and brushes that you must have hidden around your room in the TARDIS. The whole art, painting thing was a hobby that the Doctor encouraged you to continue even as you travelled with her. She would dedicate whole adventures to travelling to museums in the future, art galleries in space, auctions on different planets. She’d take you to special stores to buy rare pigments and paints. She had said, once, “Creativity is one of the greatest powers humanity has.”

She was nice like that. She was very nice…

You shook your head, your hand scraping the bottom of a box that you’d pushed under your bed a few weeks ago. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about the Doctor like that . Now was the time to be unnecessarily nervous about something that you’d come up with. You would find time to think about the alien later , when you weren’t stressed out about something that was your problem.

The box was empty. It made you wonder if the TARDIS ever cleaned the rooms, because sometimes things just seemed to go missing. You flopped onto your bed, glancing at the backpack. You’d counted two face paint palettes, and another two that were probably alright for skin contact.

Again, why were you so nervous ? It was just going to be a day of dealing with some excited kids.

“What’s all this?”

You sucked in a breath. The Doctor was standing in the doorway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants. The first thing you noticed was that her coat was missing , which meant that she looked smaller than she usually did. Later, you would translate that incoherent thought as she looked adorable . She raised her eyebrows at you, and she was right to do so because you were probably just sitting there with your mouth open. “Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah - I mean no , of course, of course.” Why couldn’t you speak ? “Yeah, uh, you can come in.”

The Doctor smiled in response, her messy blonde hair falling over her face, and you mentally punched yourself in the face. She stepped into your room, her eyes immediately settling on the backpack that was still open on your bed. “Planning a trip somewhere?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.” The Doctor frowned. “Some time , then? This is a time machine. If you just want to go anywhere, any time, in the universe, you can always ask me. I’d be happy to help.”

You bit your bottom lip as the Doctor peered into your backpack, peeling open the open pockets. Happy to help, huh? She wasn’t helping at all, walking into your room with her messed up hair and coat-less self. You closed your eyes when you heard her gasp. You could hear her smile in the sound. Why could you do that? You opened your eyes again to confirm that, yes , she was smiling.

“Face paints!” the Doctor cried, picking up one of the palettes that had been thrown into the bag. “I love face paints. I’ve seen some really beautiful ones. Are you getting your face painted?”

“Nope.” The question of the hour. “I’m doing the face painting.”

The Doctor practically jumped, nearly dropping the pallet - careful, that was really expensive - while another big smile settled onto her face. “You? Oh, that’s brilliant.”

Maybe the Doctor was right - maybe the whole face painting gig was brilliant. There certainly was a brilliance to the art form, of making people into living, breathing pieces of art, and maybe there was also a brilliance in the fact that you were getting paid for it. But you were rusty . It had been a while since you’d drawn, let alone painted anyone’s face.

The Doctor seemed to sense your doubt. She sat down on the bed, carefully putting the palette back into your backpack. “What’s wrong? You can tell me, I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

She was . “I don’t know what’s wrong,” you began, wringing your hands. “I shouldn’t be nervous. I know I’m good at this. I don’t know. I feel like it’s been way too long.”

“You are good at what you do,” the Doctor said, sounding deathly serious. Her eyes shone with something that you couldn’t quite describe. “That’s a very good mindset to have. Trust your abilities, and all that. But if you feel like it’s been too long - well, they do say practice makes perfect -”

The Doctor paused, cutting off her talking to smile widely. “You could always practice on me! I could be your first customer.”

If you were drinking something you would have spit it out. You weren’t drinking anything, so you choked on air instead. Was she joking? She had to be joking.

But one glance at her could confirm that she wasn’t joking at all. She was now sitting cross-legged on in front of you on her bed, her face drawn into a smile, looking so very tiny and so very cute . And she had sounded so earnest too. Here to help , indeed.

How could you say no to that?

You sighed, reaching over into your backpack to grab an old pack of facial wipes, a palette, and a brush. You could see the Doctor light up as you brought those things out and laid them on the bed.

“Stay here,” you said, standing up, “I’ll go get some water for the paint.”

The Doctor didn’t actually stay there as you’d instructed - when you came back from the bathroom that the TARDIS had put in your bedroom, she was already standing up and walking around, looking at all the stuff you’d collected over your time travelling together. Small crystals, paintings, sculptures. Most of them were gifts from her. You smiled, staring at the alien who could manage to make you feel so fond by just standing there.

That was it. You had a word for it - fondness . You were so incredibly fond of the Doctor. Whatever it was that you felt every time you thought of her was that .

“Doctor,” you called, softly, and she turned around from her examination of a small frog sculpture, her hair swinging with the motion. “You still up for it?”

“Me? Yes! Of course. Always am.” She leapt towards the bed again, settling into her cross-legged position from before. You were starting to get tired of your internal monologue calling her cute all the time. (You weren’t.) “Ready when you are.”

You sat down in front of her, setting the water down on a side table then taking the pack of facial wipes and pulling one out. “The paints I’m using are water activated, so your face has to be clean when I start - “

You paused, the facial wipe centimeters away from the Doctor’s face. Maybe you didn’t think this through. You’d just found a word for your feelings for the Doctor and now you were going to be very close to her and touching her face. It wasn’t intimate. It felt very intimate suddenly.

You swallowed, feeling your face grow warm. No time like the present .

You kept going, rubbing the facial wipe over the Doctor’s right temple, then moving it down to her cheekbone. Her skin was warm, and maybe you were imagining it but she looked like she was blushing under the not-very-bright lights of your bedroom. Wait, why were your lights like that? Didn’t you have them turned all the way up just a few minutes ago?

“I’ll put it right…” You pulled the facial wipe away, tracing where you had just wiped with your thumb. “…here, I think.”

“What will you paint?” the Doctor asked, making no move to remove your thumb from her face. “I’m alright with anything. I’m sure whatever you’re going to paint will be spectacular.”

You turned away from her to prepare your paints, dipping your brush in the water you’d left on the side table and swirling it into some violet paint. You blinked, and saw an image of the Doctor’s eyes. Stars, you decided, turning back towards her. Lots and lots of stars. Very fitting for someone who lives among them.

Taking another deep breath, you reached out and brushed some of the Doctor’s hair behind her ear. Her earring glinted in the light, but it could have been lost in the shine of her eyes - anyway . You took your non-dominant hand, placing your thumb and your index finger under her chin to stabilize her face.

The Doctor tilted her head so that you could see her cheek better. You didn’t even have to move her - she was a perfect customer. With that all set up, you started to paint.

Painting usually requires a certain level of focus. And talking was getting very hard. You were trying very hard not to stop painting and just study the Doctor’s face while it was still in your hands. Every stroke of your brush was just a chance to memorize the features of her face, every little mark you connected like constellations.

The Doctor, once again, picked up on your thoughts, because she just started talking .

The Doctor was not one to stay still . She never liked sitting around, doing nothing . She was always a bouncing ball of energy, chaos in the body of a blonde woman, and when she talked she was always very animated about it.

“It’s very quiet,” she said, somewhat nervously. “I never did like that. I’ll tell you a story - did I ever tell you about the time I was put in a simulation?”

“No,” you replied, somewhat absentmindedly. You adjusted the Doctor’s face slightly, moving it down - she followed without question. You felt your face heat up again; you hoped the Doctor didn’t notice how red your face was probably getting. If she did, she wasn’t bringing it up. She was nice like that.

“That time was really something. You never know with simulations - either they’re training you to become super soldiers or they’re just experimenting. Anyway, they put me in the simulation - don’t worry, it was a very long time ago, I think I was still a man - and the ones supervising kept going on and on about compatibility levels . I don’t know what they were going on about, they sent me in there alone - and then told me I was their first experiment, which can I just say, for an experiment about compatibility that is a terrible control -”

The Doctor was getting more animated now, waving her hands about. “Doctor, you need to stop moving so much,” you warned, but she didn’t seem to hear you. “Doctor!”

“ Oh - !”

In the middle of a particularly impassioned bit, her face slipped out of your hands and your brush, which was still on her face, left a short trail of yellow from her cheek to a spot near her chin, making the star you were supposed to be painting seem more like a shooting star.

The Doctor stopped talking, suddenly becoming very still. She looked down to try and see the damage, and then promptly deflated, sighing deeply. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”

She was wearing what you would accurately call her “puppy-dog eyes”, big and round and very sad and pleading. You sighed, but one that was more amused and fond , taking her face into your hands again. “No, I can fix it.”

You lifted her chin up. The streak wasn’t very long, and the paint was still wet. You could probably do with just rubbing it away - you lifted your thumb to the area and gently rubbed the paint off, watching it disappear into her skin like it was nothing.

Rubbing the last of the paint away, you very quickly realized that your thumb was getting very close to her lips, the Doctor had gone very quiet which was unlike her, and that because you had leaned in to wipe the paint off, the two of you had gotten very, very close .

Almost too close.

“Doctor?” you asked. The Doctor hummed in response. “I - I think it’s done.”

You moved to take your hand away from her face - but the Doctor reached out and curled her fingers around your wrist. Her grasp wasn’t tight, it was gentle, but it definitely kept you from moving.

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. “What -”

“Wait,” the Doctor said, her voice wavering. “Wait, I -” She swallowed, suddenly looking very unsure of herself. Like she was about to make a stupid decision. “May I?”

“May I…?”

Your heart was beating wildly against your chest now, thudding painfully with every passing second. The Doctor was just so close and she was holding your hand close to her face like it was a lifeline. And then, with another exhale, she murmured -

“ May I kiss you ?”

The best description for what happened next would be your brain short circuited . Like a computer faced with an unsolvable problem or a complicated paradox. If there was something you knew about the Doctor it was that she could be impatient, but while you were mentally keysmashing she was waiting patiently for an answer.

There were no words. What could you say? What could you say to the woman who you had been travelling with for the longest time? What could you say to the alien who had taken you to such amazing places and treated you with the utmost care? What could you say to the person that you were so fond of?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t no .

You just nodded.

The Doctor breathed out, a sigh of relief, and turned her head, pressing her lips to the inside of your palm. The press of her lips burned your skin, the action so tender you were sure it was going to make you cry.

She moved even closer to you, her breath fanning across your face. You had never seen her eyes this close before, and you decided that you had made a very good decision to paint stars on her cheekbone - where else would you put them, if not next to her eyes, where they belonged?

The Doctor paused. Your eyes searched hers, desperately looking for something that would tell you that this was all a dream, and that you would wake up next to your backpack with a ticket in your hand. There was nothing.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she said softly. “Are you sure?”

You let a smile slip onto your face. “Always am.”

The Doctor smiled back, and - oh - she pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t like most kisses you’d had - most of them were rough and demanding and not at all enjoyable. But the Doctor’s kiss made your lips burn the way she had made the skin on your palm burn, and now perhaps all of you was burning, set alight with just her lips. The Doctor let go of your wrist and let her hands rest on your hips. You raised your other hand to gently hold both sides of her face, smiling against the kiss.

She was burning all of the old you away, leaving only something entirely new behind.

The Doctor pulled away. She rested her forehead against yours, grinning. “Well, don’t tell me you’re going to kiss all your customers like that.”

“Only you, Doctor,” you whispered. “Only you.”

The Doctor hummed in response, satisfied. She leaned back slightly, showing off your handiwork. “Well, what do you think? Does it suit me?”

“That’s not a fair question,” you said, laughing and folding one of her hands in yours. “I made it. Of course I think it suits you. But I do think it’s missing something…”

The Doctor raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Do tell.”

In a daring move, you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of her lips, right where the streak of paint had ended.

“There,” you said, puffing your chest out with pride, “now it’s perfect.”

The kiss made the Time Lord gasp slightly, and then she smiled, awe filling her features. She looked at you the same way that she would look at distant stars, or beautiful plants, or machines and inventions that she admired. She looked at you the same way a mortal man might view a celestial being. It was something you recognized, a look you knew well, because she looked upon you with the same adoration that you had looked at her with just a few moments ago.

(You had made art on her skin, but to her, you were the most beautiful masterpiece the universe had ever created.)

“You’re going to have to pay me for that.”

“What?”

“You don’t have a ticket!”

“Oi, you never said anything about a ticket!”

#cute shit #soft very soft content #literally my xcuse to be gay and soft and yearning #writing this made me SAD man i want a girlfriend SO BAD #jess writes #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #the doctor imagine #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader

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