#monday mornings fanfiction

[obeydontstray]

((I posted the original chapter forever and a half ago so I hope interest is still lingering for it. I FINALLY wrote a second chapter for my fic of Dr. Hooten finding an abandoned baby at the hospital. Originally it was only going to be two chapters, but eventually there will be a third. Sorry in advance for the emotional turmoil. Doubly so if you take my suggestion to listen to 'Are You Alright?' by Lucinda Williams as well.

I miss my nephews and niece terribly, one will be a middle schooler this year! They are amazing kiddos, but sometimes I miss them being itty bitty babies. Time really flies when there's kids involved))

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A noise roused Harding from the sleep he hadn’t noticed he had slipped into. The baby lay on his shoulder, one of her little hands grasping the lapel of his jacket like a lifeline as her soft breaths fanned against his neck.

Another knock sounded. “Come in!” He hissed. “Quietly!”

The door swung open and an olive-skinned woman with long dark hair stuck her head in. Harding held his finger to his lips in a ‘be quiet’ motion. She nodded and disappeared behind the door momentarily. Then she slipped into his office with a tall, dark-skinned cop behind her. Harding nodded towards the seats at his desk. “Sit. But quietly. Don’t wake her.”

The woman was the social worker he had been waiting on. She quietly introduced herself and then the cop, who nodded solemnly at Harding. Harding began telling them the entire story of his morning, from arriving at the hospital and finding the baby to the crew checking over every detail of her to make sure she was okay and finding no evidence or parentage, to being designated as her caretaker for the day since all the surgeons were busy today.

Towards the end of his account, the baby began to fuss. She mouthed his coat, tiny fists bawled up and smacking against his shoulder. Harding stood with the baby safely against his chest without missing a beat of his story and began making her a bottle.

“And that’s the story of how I ended up here, being abused by an infant,” he said loudly over the cries and thumps of the baby’s fists on his shoulder. She wailed and mouthed at his neck. “Wait a minute little one, I’ve nearly finished. I won’t let you starve.”

(Continued on AO3)

[illiana-mystery]

Here's a little something for my mutual @fabuloussisterofsin. Happy Reading!

Cycle of Care

Plot: After another long day in the OBGYN unit of Chelsea General Hospital (he's a gynecologist in this fic), Harding arrives home expecting his usual greeting from his beloved girlfriend and the smell of dinner welcoming him in. However, tonight, he receives neither usual welcoming gestures. Confused, he goes upstairs to investigate to find his dear love sick and weak in their bathroom. So he takes it upon himself to take care of her and make her feel better after her own long day of battling the first bout of her period.

⚠️ This is an 18+ fic with mild NSFW content. Minors do not engage. 🔞 Thank you. 🙂

Taglist: @goodoldcharley , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @braindead94, @curbitkirby, @freddiefredfive, @writingkitten, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

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“Honey, I'm home,” the older man called from the front corridor as he put his briefcase to the side and hung his coats on the rack nearby.

He waited for your normal response, but to his surprise, it was silent.

He scratched his head in confusion, realizing that you were nowhere in sight.

Swiftly after, he noted that the lights were off in the kitchen and the living room.

That was even more peculiar.

You were always in one of those two rooms when he got home. And you always greeted him after work, especially on long nights like this.

And it was a very, long night.

He made you aware of that, as well as his growing annoyance with all of his fellow OBGYN's at Chelsea General Hospital at the time.

It worried you.

But you did your best to calm him down via text.

You kept sending him videos of apex predators being strong and steadfast in the wild. That, in turn, gave him the confidence and energy he needed to get through the rest of his hellish shift.

So he expected you to welcome him with big, open arms and a nice dinner as soon as he made it back home.

But nothing.

Still, he made his way upstairs to see if you were there. It didn't seem like the house was disturbed in any way and your car was parked outside.

So you had to be upstairs, right?

His inquiry was soon answered as he took his last step up to the top floor. In an instant, he heard you loudly throwing up in your shared master bathroom before the toilet loudly flushed after.

Harding was puzzled. He wondered if you were sick or if it was your monthly gift.

It made more sense that you were just sick, since you never threw up during your cycles.

But then again, you had started a new birth control he prescribed for you, so maybe that was the culprit.

Calmly, he walked into your shared room and then pried the bathroom door open to find you curled over the toilet still hurling into the bowl.

You had been in that same position for longer than 5 minutes and although you felt like you threw up all the remnants of your stomach lining, you still felt the urge to vomit more. So you didn't leave that spot.

However, your eyes did move over to your boyfriend. You felt horrible seeing how concerned he looked.

You could just tell his heart was aching from seeing you in such distress. It was clear as day in his dark eyes.

“Honey, are you okay?” he asked, before you threw up again.

“Hardy,” you started after you picked your head back up. “Babe, I'm fine. I promise. Just some menstrual sickness. I'll be okay.”

“You never have to vomit,” Harding swiftly replied. “This has to be a side effect of the new birth control I put you on.”

“Oh, right,” you responded. “Well, it'll pass. I trust your judgment. I like this birth control so far. If this is the only side effect, well that's fine with me.”

“Right,” he groaned. “How long have you been at the toilet like this?”

“About five minutes,” you admitted. “My period started this afternoon and you know how bad my cramps are. So I was resting, although this new birth control seems to make my cramps not as bad. Anyway, I guess I overslept and didn't have time to cook your dinner. I'm sorry, babe.”

“That's alright. I can warm some leftovers. That doesn't matter right now. What matters is you. Your dysmenorrhea is my main concern right now,” he clarified. “Is it just your normal cramps and this little side effect that's been bothering you today? Is that it?”

“Yes, I promise, Hardy. You don't need to worry about me. I'm okay.”

He wiped his brow in relief.

“Okay, good. I'm glad these new pills are helping your cramps a little, but I hope you won't be throwing up like this frequently. I guess we have to see throughout your cycle what happens,” he started. “But looks like you're done for now, so leftovers will have to wait. Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

“We don't have to eat leftovers, Hardy,” you assured him. “That Thai street food place is still open til midnight. Just call it in. I'll get my usual.”

“Okay, but after we shower,” he specified.

“Aye, aye captain,” you teased.

He chuckled, before walking over to you and giving you his hand. You took it and he helped you back on your feet.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said back, giving you a sweet kiss on your cheek. You blushed, before he bent down lower and gave you another kiss on your neck.

“Hardy,” you cooed. “What are you doing?”

“Just because I can't kiss your lips right now, doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you at all,” he explained, as his hands moved to your clothes.

Gingerly, he took your tank top off before swiping your shorts and panties off too.

And when he glanced at your bare body, he couldn't help but lick his lips.

Sure, he had seen you naked plenty of times, but your natural curves and soft skin always made him go mad.

You were just so beautiful to him. It made him go crazy every time.

“Damn. You take my breath away every time I see your bare skin.”

You giggled, before blushing.

“Oh, you,” you chirped. “Now it's my turn.”

He snickered, before you moved forward and removed his bowtie. Once discarded, you began to unbutton his crisp work shirt and quickly threw it to the side to expose his peak form you loved so much.

Oh his titties and little paunch looked so nice under the bathroom lighting. And his little tufts of chest hair really were a nice garnish to his natural look.

But you had to see him bare like you were.

It wasn't enough to just see his glorious chest.

You wanted to bask in him, even if you couldn't have sex like you wanted to right now.

“Still admiring me?” he asked, thick eyebrow cocked up.

“When am I not? You're so damn handsome.”

He blushed before asking in a cocky tone,

“Are you gonna take off my trousers and boxers? Or will I have to while you watch?”

“I'm capable of taking off the rest of your clothes and admiring you at the same time,” you huffed as you began to take his pants off.

He just laughed, but loved the look on your face when you saw his unclothed, resting cock.

Well, it was half mast, but still a sight to behold to you.

It still amazed you how nice his cock was and how much his girth made up for his average length.

He had a nice, thick penis and he knew how to use it. And you were ever so grateful, especially on nights like these where he wanted to fuck his stress away.

You were so tempted to at least touch it, just to give him some sexual satisfaction. But to your surprise, he smacked your hand away.

“Oww, what was that for?”

“I don't need you to do that for me. I'm fine. Now let's get in the shower. Tonight, I'm taking care of you. Sex can wait until your cycle is over…that means any and all sexual activity.”

“Yes, Hardy,” you groaned before you followed him into the shower after he started the water.

After manureving to stand in front of your big and tall boyfriend, you sighed in relief as the gentle caress of warm water coated your aching body.

Harding always knew the right setting to put the shower spray on and tonight was no different. It felt like the soft pour of rain deep within the Amazon, and it was heaven to you.

He took notice of your euphoria, smiling at the sight of your content.

Your smile and the way your face would turn red at the slightest compliment or touch always warmed his heart.

He never liked to see you down or hurt or sick, so seeing this change in demeanor really helped him calm his worry for the moment.

“Relaxed?” he softly asked.

You nodded, running your hand through your now damp hair.

He lightly chuckled, before suddenly asking,

“Are your breasts tender?”

“A little,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I forgot to earlier,” he clarified. “Allow me to help with that.”

You giggled, before the blush on your face exposed how excited you were for him to touch and massage your breasts.

Because you knew he wasn’t JUST gonna massage your breasts.

And you were proven right, yet again when you felt his soft belly against your back.

You mewed, before he bent down and began to track his lips down your jaw and into your neck. His gentle kisses made you feel all warm inside, before he finally moved his hands over to your bosom.

Gingerly, he rubbed the tips of his index and ring fingers on both hands against your nipples, moving them in a circular motion.

You bit your lip, trying not to scream at how good it felt. Harding was more than aware of how sensitive your nipples were, being your gynecologist first and all.

The memory of you moaning audibly when he gave you your breast exam during your first appointment with him still made both of you giggle.

“Still so sensitive,” he whispered against your shoulder he was now kissing. “Just like the first time I touched you there.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “Your fingers and hands just feel so good.”

He chuckled.

“That's what made me fall in love with you,” he admitted.

“Really? You never told me that.”

“I guess I never wanted to admit it. But we've been together for a year now so might as well be honest. I never thought I would fall in love so quickly after my wife died. But then you came into my office, you beautiful ray of sunshine. My angel, sent to me from above. Your smile, your laugh, your timid voice, it all just sent my soul ablaze. I'm just glad you gave an old man like me a chance.”

“Oh, Hardy. I love you,” you hummed. “And I don't care that you're older than me. You know I like older men. You've been a heaven sent to me too. You're the best gynecologist and boyfriend a girl could ever hope to have. And between you and me, I've never had orgasms as good as you give me.”

He snickered before blushing himself.

“Thank you kindly, angel. I love you too,” he assured you with a quick kiss to your cheek.

His hands moved up to your soft flesh after, and gently he knead your boobs between his strong and sturdy hands.

You moaned loudly as he did so, leaning more into his belly as his massage became a little firmer.

“Still feels good, angel?”

“Yes, yes, Hardy. Please don't stop.”

“I’ll keep going for a little longer. But I have to address your cramps soon too,” he explained. “Looks like you don't have any lumps though. That's good.”

You laughed.

“It's not a breast exam, Hardy. You're always on, I swear.”

“Nothing wrong with checking on your breast health while I’m making you feel good,” he remarked.

“I guess you got me there,” you relented, before he slowly removed his hands from your breasts. “Thank you, Hardy. That felt so good.”

“You're welcome, angel,” he quickly replied before he took the handheld shower head off of its stand and angled it at your stomach and midsection.

“What are you doing?” you asked, annoyed that the water wasn't falling down on you anymore.

“Handling your cramps,” he swiftly said, before his thumb pushed the nob down and made the water spray out a little heavier and a bit faster against that skin.

“Ooh, okay. That feels really good,” you moaned, making Harding give you another cheek kiss.

“I know, love. I'm just gonna run this over your abdomen and midsection for a couple of minutes. Let me know if I need to change the speed or the temperature.”

“Okay,” you cooed.

He only snickered in response, keeping the shower head in his left hand while his right hand held your waist steady.

His hand holding your waist also moved in circles, gingerly tickling your skin there. It made you giggle and he gave you a sweet neck kiss after.

“Okay, you want me to run the water on your tummy a little longer? Or are you ready for me to wash your hair and body?”

“I'm ready for you to wash me,” you replied. “I miss more of your touch.”

He snickered in your ear.

“I'll wash your hair first,” he whispered, after he put the shower head back on its stand. “I want to take my time washing your beautiful body and praising it like I want to.”

“Okay…daddy…”

“What did you call me?” he asked, his voice oozing with intrigue.

“You heard me…daddy.”

He sinisterly snickered before pulling you closer to his paunch again.

“I'm gonna tear you up in 5 days,” he warned with a kiss to your ear and jaw. “But until then, I'm gonna make you squirm and beg for Wednesday night to come.”

“Oh, daddy,” you whimpered, as his teeth grazed your sensitive spot on your neck. He nibbled down, making you jolt a bit before you moaned in ecstasy.

“Sexy temptress,” he moaned, before he moved his head and hands from you.

You whined, but turned your head to see him gathering your shampoo in one hand as his other hand pushed down the pump.

“I'm coming,” he said when he saw you looking his way. “Be patient, little grasshopper.”

You giggled.

“Okay,” you playfully moaned before you felt his shampoo slathered palms moving around your scalp and hair.

His firm, big hands always felt so nice moving the shampoo around.

It was the most pleasant head massage.

“Rinse,” he instructed you before you ran your head right under the shower again and let the shampoo run down your skin and down the drain.

As you were doing that, Harding gathered some conditioner the same way as the shampoo.

You both met halfway again after and soon he was working the conditioner into your hair.

He was even more thorough, knowing that your conditioner of choice made your hair even more smooth and silky than it naturally was.

Because he loved touching and admiring your hair. It was one of his favorite ways to show affection to you other than the neck kisses and bites he always gave you.

“Okay. I'll let that sit while I wash you off,” he told you. “Would you like me to bathe you with your lavender wash or cucumber melon wash?”

“Lavender, please,” you answered.

“Your wish is my command, angel,” he replied, before he put some of the liquid on your favorite purple loofah.

He started moving the loofah against your back, making sure to make his fingers slip from the material so it could graze your back.

You whined at the teasing touch, so he began to kiss every area his fingers and loofah traced.

And to your delight, he got on his knees to playfully smack your ass before he moved the loofah over and kissed right where he smacked you.

“Oh, daddy. You're so naughty,” you teased to get a reaction out of him.

“I'll definitely be Wednesday,” he promised as he got off his knees.

He turned you around after, fully intending to wash off your breasts first.

He was gentle though especially when he got to your pussy.

And his kisses felt even nicer as he went on while you were facing him.

“Okay, you can rinse again,” he told you after he got back up on his feet again.

“Yes, daddy,” you teased again, as you did as he said.

Once you were done rinsing your body and the conditioner out of your hair, you returned the favor by washing Harding off with his favorite Old Spice gel.

He was practically mewing at your soft touch too, since you let your fingers slip past the loofah like he had. And you gave him many many kisses upon his body as well.

You just had to show him how much you loved him and appreciated his care.

“That was quite a shower,” Harding said after he turned the water off.

“Yeah, it was. But I'm hungry now.”

“Ditto,” he replied. “But let's get dried off and dressed first. Then I'll order dinner.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said back, following him out of the shower.

As expected, Harding insisted on drying your body and hair off before he dried himself off.

Then, of course, he also dressed you in your favorite pajamas once you put some new pads and panties on.

You threw your now dry hair into a bun after, while he got into his own pair of favorite pajamas.

You stared intently, but he didn't notice until he pulled his pajama pants up. Then he chuckled once he noticed.

“Like what you see?”

“Of course, handsome,” you said, reassuring him with a warm hug.

“Angel, you're too kind,” he said, his face turning completely red. “Now let's get you to bed. I'll order our food after.”

“Okay,” you hummed, rubbing your head against his arm.

He chuckled again, kissed your forehead, and then led you back into your room.

Without hesitation, you crawled to your side of the bed and let him tuck you in before he gave you another kiss upon your cheek.

“Take it easy, angel. I'm gonna go back downstairs, order the food, and wait for it while you rest up here.”

“Sounds good to me,” you chirped, before he left you, snickering all the way downstairs.

Luckily, you weren't by yourself in bed for too long. Between Harding ordering the food and him waiting for it, it was about 25 minutes of wait time.

And when he made his way back upstairs, you got really excited because you could hear his loud footsteps.

You smiled as he made his way back into the room. And you noticed that he had a tray with two bowls and two tea cups in his hands.

“Dinner is served,” he announced. “I got us Pad Thai to share, some roti bread, and green tea. I just wanted some tea, but I figured that you could have some too. It does help with cramps.”

“Aww, Hardy…thank you!,” you said as he came over to your side of the bed and placed the tray down by your feet.

Carefully, he gathered the teacup and put it on your nightstand before he handed you your bowl he topped with the roti bread.

You grabbed it and smiled at him, then watched as he moved the tray over to his side to get his bowl and teacup.

And once he got his self straightened out, he got closer to you in the bed.

“You can eat now, angel,” he said after he noticed you hesitating. “You don't have to wait for me.”

“I know. But I wanted to,” you clarified. “Thank you for making my first night of shark week better. You always have a way of picking me back up.”

“Funny, I could say the same,” he said with a hardy chuckle. “You're welcome, though. Guess this night wasn’t a complete bust on my end either.”

You giggled, before you leaned against his arm.

“I love you so much, Hardy. I'm so glad you're off tomorrow so you can take care of me more.”

He laughed.

“I love you more, angel. I'm glad to be off too. Because there's no patient I rather be with and care for than you,” he assured you...

...making you blush even more.

[revelingrexan]

and that's all she's got! :) audio for all three currently published chapters of this fic by @procyonloser! i had so much fun reading the fic and acting these characters!!!

chapter 3 fic link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54475315/chapters/139679548#workskin

chapter 3 YouTube link with scenes marked and timestamped: https://youtu.be/FM7Ib9eJvDE

(chapter 1 post, chapter 2 post, you're at chapter 3!)

[bluedalahorse]

I know what my own thoughts are, so send me your saraugust AUs and canon divergence ideas where they have more than a snowball’s chance in hell of working out.

[bluemallow-log]

TALES FROM THE ACKERMAN ESTATE

Chapter 22: Autumn Foliage

Icy breeze, shorter daylight, and falling leaves.

Link: AO3 (10k words)

Notes: HEYA, I'M BACK GUYS! I might get a bit distracted by other stuff while working on this chapter but nevertheless, it's finally here!

Click here if you want to read from the first chapter: AO3

Synopsis: A young governess, Hange Zoe, is hired to teach Mikasa Ackerman, the young cousin and ward of the owner of the great Ackerman Estate in Trost, Levi Ackerman. Their bad impressions of each other alongside the polar opposite of their personalities shall make it impossible for mutual affection, and yet they inevitably find themselves to be dangerously intertwined with each other. [Levihan Victorian Era AU]

[writingsofhubris-a]

Portrait of a Lady

↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | →

Ch 3. With 'I have saved this afternoon for you'; Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.

"You're right." Jolene looked you over before standing up, and selecting a dress from the bags she had brought. She always knew just what to pick for your outfits, even if it meant she had shown up with  a needle still in the thread and fabric needing to be finished gathering. She liked to dress you like a doll. 

"Alright, this is a new pattern we're trying at the store. Flares just a bit different than you normally like, but who cares?” She turned to show you the outfit; a number that would cling to your body in just the right places, in just the ways you would like to draw Harding’s eyes.

"I'll let you know how fast he drops to his knees." Jolene laughed as she pushed the dress into your hands, turning from you to start to look through your scarves. 

"Let's see how it fits!" You turned from her, and did just so. A perfect fit, as the clothes often were. By the time you had turned around once more, Jolene already had the selection of accessories. Cool tones in the jewelry grabbed onto the rich purple accents of your dress, and the dark violet scarf made from silk.

"Look at that!" She walked over, just to slide the one zipper in the dress up, and attach the necklace. "He's going to lose his mind for you." You bit your lip as you looked into the mirror, sucking a nervous breath in through your teeth. Jolene wrapped her arm around your body and smiled in the mirror. 

"He'd better not know what hit him." 

"Oh, no way he will." Her hand moved over yours, dropping a bracelet into your hand. She moved behind you, folding and settling your scarf over your head, covering the fuzzy coating of hair on your scalp.

"I hope this goes well…" 

"It will." Jolene moved to your side. Looking at you in the reflection. "I know it will. You look beautiful."

"Thank you." 

The taxi took you right to the front door of the restaurant. Already, the light was gone from the sky, thick clouds threatening to spill over with rain gathered on the western horizon. Too familiar to you, you were certain that you saw rays of light just on the edge of the clouds. The distinction was faint, yet noticeable. 

You forced a deep breath, knowing you were stalling. Looking down at your phone, you started to text Harding to let him know you were here. Yet, right as your thumb hovered over the send icon, your name echoed around the road, just before a car passed by. Turning, Harding walked up the dark sidewalk, trademark bowtie nestled under his chin.  

“You look beautiful.” Harding’s eyes moved over your body, looking at the finery coating you. He took a moment before forcing himself to motion with his hand at the doorway. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes.” His hand moved to your elbow, guiding you into the restaurant, filled to the brim with finery. 

"Do you remember the first time we met?" It took a moment for the memory to find you.

"Didn't Tina spill wine on you?" 

"At the end of the dinner. I was lucky enough to have my dark suit jacket that night." 

“Not unlike the last time we dined,” you had to chuckle. 

“No, my luck ran out the other night.” His own chuckle complimented yours in the din of the restaurant. The conversation naturally continued, finding subjects from one moment to the next, a river of topics spinning into a whirlpool.

“Hopefully for the last time.” 

“Indeed.” Your conversation was disrupted by the waiter, walking over at last to introduce herself. The conversation continued, topics flowing with ease, jokes exchanged faster than expected. 

“No, I’m afraid I’ll be taking a work trip in just a couple months.” 

“And your destination?’ “A tour, honestly. A list of towns, all along the coast.” A small wiry smile appeared on your lips. “I’ve had a book accepted by a publishing company. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do this tour or not.” 

“You just published? Congratulations; perhaps champagne is in order.” 

“A celebration of some kind, at least.” You hurried to take a bite, forcing a natural break before he could ask the next question. 

“And what sort of celebration is that?” His smile was good natured, clearly ready to hear some silly, expected desire to celebrate. You allowed your hand to turn the fork over in your fingers, playing with the side you had just taken a large bite from. Phrasings warred for just a moment, and your eyes stayed low on your plate. 

“A sort of celebration I think wouldn’t be appropriate with my doctor. At least not my current doctor.” In a moment of bravada, your eyes scanned over the tables around you, before landing squarely on Harding. “And I don’t see my current doctor here in the restaurant.” Harding reached forward to take a sip of his water, wetting his throat as he seemed to be thinking. 

His dark eyes flicked back up to you, an edge in them that you hadn’t seen as the doctor you’d grown fond of, in and out of his care. 

“This celebration… Would it be appropriate for a friend you’ve made during your social time?” 

“That would be the preference.” You took a bite of your food again, and continued. “Would you mind helping me celebrate, Harding?” 

“I would be honored.” 

Once more, his smile returned, and a wave of lust shook through your body. That kind, beautiful smile. It made you want to surprise him one morning with your mouth on him, just to see his smile as he looked down at you. You had to look at your plate, embarrassment rushing you. There was no way he would be able to know what it was you were thinking. There wasn’t a single possibility he could have seen the ideas that had spawned in your head, not at this point, but you swore his eyes darkened even more, that the smile on his lips was just a little hungrier for you. Lips you were certain were softer than the words that would fall. 

Even when dessert came and went, chocolate and fruit shared between the two of you, your words continued to hold double meanings, entandres. Harding would allow himself to tease you just the same as you were teasing him; tongues flicking out to taste stray drops of chocolate, your fork full of fruits guided directly into his mouth, daring actions of those trying to flirt. The charged air only found more charge until the last moment, the dinner paid for and your chairs finally pushed in. 

Ever the gentleman, Harding guided you to the sidewalk just outside, but hesitated before hailing a taxi. Harding’s large body turned to yours, a small smile on his lips. 

“I don’t suppose I could invite you for a nightcap.” 

You were right, in a way. Harding's lips were gentle, even when his hands were hungry over your waist. Something about the way he almost devoured you made you crave his touch. 

Harding's hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand to his shoulder. Your palm landed on his suit jacket, before sliding between it and the vest. The fabric was so very soft, sandwiching your skin. Your other hand went to the buttons on his vest, hurrying along to open them before either of your coats were off. You were both so hungry for the other, the food from dinner only having sated your stomach. 

Harding’s large hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. His vest and coat were pushed off, landing on the rug under your feet, ignored nearly as soon as it was shoved off him. His bowtie was the next article you focused on, tugging on the tongue of the tie, pulling it off with a soft slide of silk. 

The moment of pause was all you two needed to slow back down, the first hit of contact sated. Instead, your hand went back to his throat, and slowly opened up the buttons of his shirt. You felt when Harding swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing against the back of your fingers. 

The hooked fingers you had in his clothing was enough leverage to guide him closer, tilting your faces to meet, but stopping short. 

“Where is your bedroom, Harding?” 

“Up the stairs, and to the right.” You used your leverage to pull him closer, taking a step up his stairs, still facing him. Your faces were closer, and you finally took that kiss. It was sweet, a foil to the passion you both needed to release. 

He didn’t allow his hands to stay idle, moving back to your hips, thumbs brushing firmly over the dips he found. There was strength in his hands, strength you’d grown to know in the time he’d been your doctor. Strength you were hoping to get to know now as a lover. 

Your lips parted again, both taking a short breath, shared air mixing between you. 

Your hand took his hand from your hip, and turned to guide Harding up the way he had instructed. It wasn’t until the top of the stairs that Harding took a larger step, pressing his front to your back. It was at that moment his hand took your wrist, sliding up from the hold you had just had. His lips pressed to the back of your neck, a tail of your scarf caught between his body and yours. His free hand ran over the side of your body, down to the hem of your skirt. You were fleetingly glad Jolene’s design was short enough for Harding’s hand to slide along your thigh, his palm covering a swatch of your inner thigh. His thumb, pressed against your crotch, felt the warmth that had built up. 

“Just from being teased?” His knuckle slid slightly, just to feel just how wet you had gotten. “Just from sitting across from you?” His lips pressed to your neck again. 

“Can you blame me?” Your hips hitched forward, sliding against his hand. With his positioning against you, Harding took to guide you into his bedroom. You would have taken the time to appraise his room, but you were concentrated on the bed that was right before you, one that looked very comfortable and inviting. 

Harding’s body guided you to the edge of the bed, facing the expanse. Instead of guiding you to bend over, he instead moved to undo the knot of your scarf. The slight stiffening of your shoulders wasn’t lost on Harding, either. 

“Would you like to leave this on?” Instead of allowing him an answer, your own hands moved to the soft fabric, the fuzzy growth on your head already hiding the fresh scar on your head. 

Harding’s lips moved to the back of your head, pressing a kiss against your short hair. His lips moved slightly, then pressed another kiss to your hair again, repeating the action until his lips started down your neck, and your shoulder. His fingers moved to the tab of your zipper, and allowed it to slide down, showing off your back to him.

“Beautiful.” 

“Think so?” 

“I know so.” You allowed a small curl of your lips, and Harding slid off the sleeves, guiding your dress to the floor. It was caught between your bodies until you leant forward, your elbows taking your weight. A shimmy of your hips to shake off the dress, and you turned over on the mattress, showing Harding what you’d picked out for the night; a deep purple bra and panty set, a splurge from just a few months ago. It hadn’t been given an opportunity to be shown off, either. 

Nerves were well piqued, his dark eyes looking over your body behind thick rimmed glasses. His barely opened clothes were more debauched than you’d ever seen from him, and you already wanted to see more skin, feel his hands over you again. 

The pause was enough to entice hunger into Harding. He pushed you into his bed, slowly enough for you to lower yourself onto the mattress from your elbows. He took the opportunity to move his hands to your knees, spreading you open. His hand moved to your thigh, pressing your leg up to your chest, before it slid down to the crotch of your panties.

“You look breathtaking,” Harding murmured, his hands rubbing your calf. Your free leg wrapped around his hips, trying to tug him closer. He lowered himself to his elbows, hovering over you for just a moment before pressing his lips down to your neck, his head dipping down to your collarbone. Harding managed to pull your attention only to his lips, only to his hands running over your body, only to his warmth over you. He was skilled, and if you were lucky, you’d find yourself in his bed often again.

His lips were on your breast, fingers pulling the cups aside, sharp teeth running over your skin, before his lips settled over your nipple. It was impossible to not arch up into him, to take that suction and make it even more pleasurable. The tip of his tongue flicked over you, until his lips pulled away with a soft pop. Unwilling to waste time, his lips simply took the other nipple, fingers rolling his saliva into your areola. You weren’t going to let him take complete control, and used the leg wrapped around his hips to pull him closer, grinding into your crotch. You could feel how hard he was through his slacks. 

“And you were teasing me about being needy.” Once more, your hands moved between you two, pulling open each button on Harding’s shirt. The fabric pulled away to show his stomach covered by a white tee, an undershirt impeding your goal. 

“So I did…” Harding’s lips pulled from your nipple to kiss over your sternum, his teeth nipping the side of your breast. The thin skin bloomed in pleasurable pain, pulling a whimper from you. 

“Get this off, Harding.” The teasing tone fell slightly from your voice, that same need coming back full force. “I want to feel your skin under my hands.” Your fingers took the hem of his shirt, tugging up and out of his belt.

Idly, you hoped he’d use that on you one night… If you remained that lucky. 

“As you wish.” Another kiss to your sternum, and he leant back. He watched as your hands moved over your body, distracting him from his goal. You were successful for only a moment, his hands stilling as he watched your fingers disappear in your panties. 

“Hurry,” you whispered, daring him to follow through and ravish you more. “I need to feel you.” 

“You’re a bloody minx,” he judged quickly. His shirt was off as he leant his head down, his lips trailed over your stomach, landing on the band of your underwear. His lips pressed kisses along the edges of your underwear, before sliding his hands from your knees to your hips, sliding under the purple fabric. “How long had you planned this?” 

“You’ll have to keep guessing.” 

“And has your plan followed how you decided?” 

“So far it is… Your tongue was doing something else by now in my plan.” Almost as a reprimand for your cheeky statement, Harding’s teeth once again found your skin, a tiny bite that was more shock than it was pain. A yelp, and your hips canted into his face better. 

Harding at last let his lips move to the apex of your thighs, kissing along the edges of the gusset. Your breathing stilled, until he slid his tongue along the side of the fabric, eating to his content. Your immediate cry was insistent, a shock to you as he dug his tongue into your hole, before slipping further into your cunt. Harding was skilled at sucking on your nipples, but he was a master at playing with his tongue. 

“That silver tongue doesn’t just end with words, huh?” Harding didn’t respond with more than a light pinch on your hip. Your laugh broke into the quiet of the room, pulling in intimacy that you hadn’t realized you needed. It was easy to let his tongue work your clit from there; circles and flicks, clenching down onto nothing. Each swipe made you feel more empty than before, more excited to feel him inside you. 

His middle finger slid into your pussy, finally giving you something to tighten around, something to get a little bit more pleasure. Only a few thrusts of his finger and he slipped in his ring finger as well, curling them both into you. 

Your thigh was wrapped around his head, and with just a couple slight humps against Harding’s face, you finished on his tongue. Expert as Harding could be, his skill showed in pleasure that radiated from his tongue, his fingers. Your muscles relaxed just enough, drunk on the rush of pleasurable chemicals. Your moans echoed slightly, but Harding didn’t allow you to put your leg down. He used his hand to guide your calf to his shoulder, forcing you open for him; you couldn’t close yourself even if you wanted to. 

“An absolute minx to cum that beautifully,” Harding reiterated. “Tighten that much on my fingers; you knew what you were doing to me.” He shifted enough to reach your lips, and let your leg fall to wrap around his waist, much more comfortable for you both. 

Your lips met, and you could taste your own cum on his mouth, letting your tongue slide against his for the moment. Intimacy, a connection that you were certain he needed as well. 

Yet, when Harding stopped, you were worried. He pulled away, and looked to the side for just a moment, as if thinking. 

“What is it?” Your hand was on the back of his head, gently brushing the short hair to get his attention again. His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, before pressing one more kiss to your lips. 

“Stay.” His instruction confused you until he pulled back, getting off the bed. 

“Harding…?” You started to sit up, before his hand was back on your chest, pushing you back to the bed. 

“Listen to me, pet.” A nod, and you watched as he moved to a drawer just far enough away that it felt impractical. When he turned back, you saw his goal; a box of condoms. 

Harding was back on bed in just a moment more, finding himself pulled down onto your body, leg wrapped right back around his waist. 

“Anything else? I’m so awfully ready for you.” You knew he could feel the back of your hand on his cock as you rubbed your clit. His lips took yours, losing track of time. His underwear was pulled down, and you finally felt the flesh of his dick on your skin. He was hot, stiff, and you needed to feel him stretch you out. 

You took a foil packet from him, and put it on his prick, letting a couple of strokes settle the condom on him. 

“Ready, my dear?” His deep brown eyes met yours. His dark eyes only held lust for you, drinking you in with his strong gaze. You nodded, moving a hand to his waist. 

“Fuck me, Harding. Please, I need you.” He didn’t let you beg any further, the head of his dick moving to your hole. He leant down, hand still guiding him further in, and kissed you. His tongue dipped past your lips just as his dick pressed into you,taking both your lips and cunt at the same time. He swallowed the moan of pleasure, taking his time for his hips to become flush to your body. 

Harding’s face moved to your shoulder, at last breaking the kiss. You felt a nip of his teeth again, a small bruise already ready to form. His teeth were sharp against your skin, the pain steep. 

“Harding…” Your hips swirled, trying to push his shaft into you. “Move, please.” 

“Just…” His lips pressed a spattering of kisses along your shoulder. “I just need a moment, my dear.” His deep breath made you realize he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. A little shocked, you couldn’t help playing with fire. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, getting his attention as your legs wrapped around him, holding him in you. 

“Take your time, Harding. I need your cock, I need to cum on you. You’re splitting me open, it’s just what I needed… You feel perfect.” Your lips pressed to the side of his head, half whimpering and half moaning for him. You must have flipped a switch in him, as Harding guided himself up enough to look over your body. His hips slowly started to move, letting your body adjust and spread, relax and accept him in. His hand moved to your cheek, and slipped his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck on something. Your eyes closed as you let out a moan around him. One of your hands moved to his wrist, ensuring it couldn’t move from your skin. You only allowed his hand to move to your neck, a very careful, controlled pressure against your throat.

Harding watched you carefully, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, how you tightened around his cock, just allowing you to enjoy the feeling of him pulling pleasure from your core. Each thrust, each ragged breath from the two of you was music. 

Music that didn’t conclude until early hours of the night, after countless orgasms and moments of respite in each other’s arms. Nearly half the condoms in his modest supply had been used, and you were both coated in cum and sweat. 

Harding had guided you to his bathroom, his shower, and taken care of every inch of you from there to the bed. 

Never before did you expect to find your way down Harding’s stairs, each soft tap of your bare feet showing just how timid you did feel. Your hands pushed the cuffs of Harding’s shirt up your arms, checking once more that the shirt was buttoned. Unsure of which way to take, you let your nose guide you; cooking eggs and toast, you were certain of it. 

You searched your way through the turns and the curves, from the entryway to the living room, a hallway that amplified the scents from the kitchen. Each room you walked through showed a new side of Harding; art from artists you were shocked to see hanging in his house. The Rothko at the hospital was one thing, but the artists you were seeing now couldn’t compare. Local legends, long since past, international, forgotten painters, the abstract colors and shapes expressing emotions you would need hours to properly appreciate. 

You had stopped in front of one painting, a dark canvas that spoke to some deeper emotions in you. Your fingers extended to it, not daring to touch the delicate strokes, but only to feel a closeness to the pain. Whatever the painting was, you knew you’d have to ask Harding about it, one day. 

You only made it a few more steps before stopping, recognizing the strokes on this canvas. It hadn’t been the piece he’d told you he’d bid on; this was a much smaller, and more intricate piece. Washes brought layers into the sky, the bird in sharp relief as you’d remembered those wings. You still remembered the morning; a trip to a small town in years past with your mothers, the sun rising against the sea and a flock of birds, rising suddenly over the edge of the hill. It was sudden, breathtaking, and still emboldened in your mind. 

You finally allowed yourself to move into the kitchen, just around one more turn and through an archway. Such a richly furnished house seemed reminiscent of the man himself; a warmth hidden in the secret parts of himself. Parts of him that only select people were allowed to join, parts only he decided to share. 

“Good morning,” Harding greeted, voice clear to speak to the time he had already been in the kitchen for, the time he had been up for. You took in his dressing gown, deep blues with perfect accents of dark yellow. It fit him well, and you could see the edges of a nightgown under the lapels and hem. 

“Good morning,”You responded, suddenly feeling underdressed. 

“Did you sleep well?” Harding took the few steps up to you, the mug that had been in his hand set to the table near you. You looked at him, inches away. 

“Better than I expected,” You returned, looking down now at his dressing gown, taking in the stitches, the accents. Your fingers moved to the sash, just resting against the folds of fabric. “Other than feeling a little underdressed compared to you.” 

“And I thought the robe I’d laid out was obvious.” Your soft chuckle bubbled out of your lips, and you looked down to the side of you both; the mug he had set down. A black coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?” 

“No, not normally.” A sip of the drink, and you softly hummed your appreciation as the liquid warmed you from the inside. You took the chair at the small table nearby, allowing Harding to return to his task. Silence proliferated between you two, the soft hiss of food cooking on the stove, and bird calls streaming through the windows with the sunlight. 

Another sip of the coffee, and Harding’s voice rang out. 

“Did you hear that bird? That clanking type call?” He fell silent for a moment, and you listened to the call, suddenly hearing it with his instruction. 

“I think so.” 

“It’s quick.” Harding moved from the stove, only to stand next to you, gesturing out the window next to you. Looking out the window brought you the view of a birdfeeder, a muted sunflower yellow. Perched upon the rest was a small bird, small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. You saw its head flick a couple times, before its mouth opened, offering that trill again. 

“That is the Song sparrow. That specific one has been here for a few weeks. My bird feeders have given it no reason to move on.” Looking further out, you saw a wide assortment of feeders, ones Harding must have installed for just this purpose. 

“It’s lovely,” you had to respond, before looking up at him. He’d gotten just close enough that when your head tilted, you saw a mark on his neck, something that must have been a result from last night. You had to look away, keeping yourself from leaning back up. 

“How long have you been watching birds?” The conversation once more picked back up between you both, turning conversations as if they were pages in a book; smooth transitions that allowed for tangents to be explored, all whilst Harding finished cooking breakfast for you both. 

It hadn’t even taken ten more minutes before Harding was setting the food in front of you both, just on the table. Fresh fruits in a small bowl to the side, a simple omelet, and a top off on your coffee, all of it smelled amazing. 

“I didn’t know you could cook this well, Harding.” 

“Breakfast is my specialty.” That smirk, one that spoke to how confident he was, once more adorned his face.  

Harding looked cute as could be, sitting at his own spot next to you. He was holding his own utensils as he dug into his own plate, the eggs slowly disappearing. 

“I had a lot of fun last night,” you suddenly said, taking a sip of your coffee. The flavor flooded over your tongue, robust and warm. “I’m glad that you invited me back.” Harding’s smile spread, looking at you. Without missing a beat, his hand reached out to cup your cheek, simply holding onto you for a moment. You sunk into the moment of tenderness, eyes closing and a soft sigh fanning over his wrist. 

“As did I,” Harding replied, his voice soft. You pressed a kiss to his inner wrist, and looked up at him. The thoughts from last night, of waking him with a blow job, again drifted into your mind. Harding was already up, so perhaps you couldn’t have that exact experience. Yet, you knew that that robe had easy access to him. 

Your elbow hit the fork he’d offered you to eat with, clattering to the ground. A perfect excuse, one you were going to take. 

“Let me-” 

“I’ve got it.” your hand moved to his forearm, pinning him to the table. “You made breakfast, I’ll get this.” You offered a laugh, and pushed the chair back from the table, kneeling down on your knees to disappear under the table. You saw the fork not even a foot under the table, easy grabbing, but you turned to your left instead of your right. The tie to his robe was front and center, until your fingers took the edge of the tie, and tugged. You knew Harding could tell what you were doing when he stiffened. One of your hands moved to his knee, and slowly spread it open, allowing you to get closer in the small space. 

Harding’s curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him, allowing you to slide your hand up his thighs, taking hold of his half hard cock. Your tongue first touched his cock, licking and sucking to get him fully hard. He slowly hardened, filling your mouth. You started to take him deeper, once again familiar with the feeling of being filled. 

His soft moan fell from over the table. It was enough for you to slide your fingers between your legs, finding a wetness you’d expected. It seemed he was able to arouse you so long as he was in you in some way. 

You swallowed around his cock, urging his shaft further down your throat. Eyes closed, you shoved your lips further down, rubbing your tongue along a vein on his cock. 

“Just, ha, like that my dear,” Harding couldn’t help the moan, his hand moving to the back of your head. His hand forced your head to stay as close as you could manage it. Another swallow, and the last inch of Harding’s cock disappeared into your mouth, humming around his shaft. It was a stretch to feel him so deep. Your hand, slicked with your own juice, slipped to rest on his testicles, playing with them only for a moment, before Harding’s balls drew up and his cum splashed down your throat. His groan was loud in the quiet room, fingers lacing with the short hairs at the nape of your neck. 

His hips stuttered forward just an inch, letting the feeling of your mouth rush through his body. 

One last swallow around his cock, and Harding gasped nearly painfully, sliding you off his shaft. His chair noisily slid back, giving him the room to look down at you, kneeling in front of him. His dark blue robe framed his body, thighs still open by your shoulders. Your lips moved to a patch of skin, kissing him before following his body, carefully pulling yourself back from the floor. His hand once more moved to your head, but cupped your cheek first. He managed to guide you closer, and press your lips together. It was just for a moment, and you could taste just a bit of the food he’d eaten on his lips. 

“You’re proving to become an enigma,” Harding at last proclaimed, releasing your face from his hand. You took your seat again, looking at his small smile on his lips. It looked as natural as his eyes blinking, smiling at you. A sip of coffee, and obvious, fake sign of innocence from your transgression, his cum mixed with the warm liquid spreading over your tongue.

“Time will tell if you can figure me out, won’t it?”

[tllgrrl]

The Marks by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Sarah Wilson | Rated: T / SFW

Summary: “What…did you…tell the boys…about those bites, Sarah?”, he says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

It’s one thing to explain about a scar or a bruise from when you do superhero or fishing boat stuff.

It’s another thing to try to explain something like a bite…from when Mom & Dad are having their own “Playtime”.

* * * * * * * * * *

“James…?”

There he was, at the desk in his room up in the attic.

It’s like a study. Bookshelves filled with books, a few framed photos, and some shelves of vinyl LPs.

And there’s a wooden table with a refurbished record player on it.

A wardrobe is on the other side of the attic space, against the wall opposite the bed. There’s also a dresser, a full length mirror, a wall mirror, and a chair.

The king-sized bed is under the skylight, so he knows where he is if a nightmare wakes him.

One of Sarah’s headwraps and her kimono robe are hanging on the bed frame at the foot of the bed.

He also has a sleeping bag on the floor. Just in case.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Breakfast is almost ready…”

“Sure thing.”

He looks over his shoulder, away from the laptop and schematics on his desk, and sees the almost sheepish smile on her face. Like she’s embarrassed about something.

Something that she’s not completely embarrassed about.

“What’s…that look? OK. What happened?”

“You happened. Last night. Remember?”

“Mmmmm…sure do.”

He smiles and his eyes do a quick tour of her. She’s sexy as hell even in some oversized secondhand men’s jeans and, what he knows by its colour, an almost scandalously tight tank top she’s wearing under one of his old dress shirts that has a hole in it…from a bullet fired at him during a shootout in Madripoor where, after that mission, he half-heartedly swore to Sam he’d never return.

“It was nice.” He grins, leaning back in the chair. “Especially when you did that thing where your hips—“

“Yeah, no. This is about the thing you did.”

She was looking at the floor, then she looked up and caught his eyes.

And she smiled, then bit her lip.

Which made him put down his pen, and turn his chair around to face her.

“Sarah…if you ask me if you can give me a hypothetical, I will lock us in this room…and do things with you…breakfast, lunch, and dinner be damned.”

They both laugh.

“I was giving the boys their breakfast, and they saw these…”

She shows him the inside of her left forearm, and also where her neck meets her shoulder.

Even from where he’s sitting he can see that those are his teeth marks, upper and lower, as well as bruising.

“Cass’s mind, of course, went straight to Werewolves. AJ? Vampires.

I had to stop myself from telling them that Cass was the closest, because the White Wolf’s story isn’t mine to tell, sithandwa. It’s yours.

They asked me what happened…and…I…I told them…”

“What did you tell them, baby?”

“Well…I…” she looks away from him. “I…” She drops her head.

“Sarah?” He’s now smiling at her embarrassment. “Close the door.”

She turns, quietly closes the door…and locks it.

When she turns back to face him, he’s about 3 feet away from her.

(How…?! He was way on the other side of the room! How?!?)

“Sa-raaah…” He takes a step, picks up her left hand and pushes the already rolled sleeve up further to reveal her arm, and the obvious bite mark shaped like two crescents, surrounded by bruising, visible on her otherwise flawless deep brown skin.

He hisses and looks up into her eyes, and sees that she’s…

(She’s blushing.)

“Aw, baby.…” He kisses the bite, lightly licks it, and kisses it again. Then he runs the back of his metal hand gently over her left cheek, pulls the shirt collar away from her neck, and sees the same type of bite marks near her shoulder, these too, surrounded by bruises.

“Sarah…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I was putting their plates down, about to reach across for the syrup, and I pushed the sleeve up so it wouldn’t…and I wasn’t thinking about it until I heard Cass gasp and drop his fork.

Then AJ pointed at me and said ‘Mama, are you hurt?’ He saw just the edge of the bruise on my neck. Thank God I pulled the collar closed before he saw the whole bite and started yelling for Sam to come look—“

“Well…what did you tell them? That I’m a werewolf?” he chuckled.

He took off his shirt, unzipped his jeans, pulled them down…and there, on his left side, and on his upper right thigh, were two bite marks, and bruises that looked like they were fading as she watched.

She shakes her head, feeling herself wanting to laugh partially because she’s embarrassed at the thought of her kids seeing evidence of adult—particularly their Mom and Dad’s sexual shenanigans, and partially because her partner in said shenanigans is standing close…really close.

He pulls his pants up and puts his shirt back on.

“And so, my question remains unanswered.”

“I…told them…I…Okay…”

“Saaa-raaah”, he coos as he takes another step closer and his chest is a couple of inches away from contact with her body. “Tell me, baby.”

“James…”

“Yes…?”

“I need to go back downstairs. I have…there’s oatmeal cooking—“

“SAM?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“CAN YOU KEEP AN EYE ON THE OATMEAL? SARAH’S IN THE BATHROOM.”

“Sure thing.”

“THANKS!

There. Now...” He closes the last inch of space between them, bends his knees a little, then pulls himself up to his full height, dragging his body against hers while pressing her back into the door, his hands flat against the wood, one down by her waist, the other up by her head.

“You…were saying?” he says softly, into her ear.

“I…told them…well, I said to them..that…” she whispered, panting.

‘You’re stalling…” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously, “but you know me. I can do this all day.”

He kisses her…and kisses her…and kisses her, his tongue rolls across her teeth and sweeps across her tongue…and he pulls her bottom lip into his mouth…

“Tell me, baby. Use your words…” he says, now also rolling his hips on her as he tries to pull the words out of her with his mouth.

She feels her focus start to telescope down to where all she is aware of is his mouth having its way with hers, and how she could easily beg him to have some mercy and please use that mouth of his on other parts of her…but…

“What…did you…tell the boys…about…those bites…Sarah?” He says very slowly, between each searching, searing kiss. “Tell me, please?”

“Ohmygod…” she says into his mouth, gasping for breath, and giggling.

“I told them…that you’d explain it to them.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Originally posted HERE on AO3 about 2 years ago. Happy Fic Birthday.

[willinglyghoulified]

In my FF, my sole survivor, Gwenora Rose, goes to find Nick Valentine with Codsworth as her companion. Codsworth is pretty durable, so when she inevitably runs out of bullets,Codsworth has to do all the fighting for her.

Gwen is an ex bankruptcy lawyer who struggles a lot with having to kill people in order to survive, always reminding herself that Nate should have been the one to survive and find their son because he was better equipped. “It should have been me, I should have been the one holding Shaun that day,” is what she keeps remind herself. As for how far she’s come by the time she finds Nick, she’s a terrible shot and runs out of bullets often, and her arms are weak and untrained so she prefers small guns. She quickly realized that she had a long way to go before she got good at this kind of thing, but that didn’t stop her from going to find Nick. And Nick is... well, surprised that she made it this far without dying lol

Excerpt from my fic below. Story here.

(Excerpt from Book 1, Chapter 7)

Nick stopped dead in his tracks. “I just realized -- did you come all the way here without a gun or something?”

“I had one, I just ran out of ammo.”

He shook his head. “In every gun in that bag of yours, you ran out of ammo?”

I looked down at the heavy bag of mine and nodded.

He walked over to one of the bodies on the floor, bent down, and rummaged through their pockets. “See here,” he explained, “you can find all kinds of loot. Bullets, Stimpaks, chems, cigarettes, even more guns.”

“Looting the dead? Wait... I don’t know...”

“I know it sounds sketchy, but it’s them or you. And they sure as hell ain’t using it anymore. Now take this gun.” He gave me a machine gun that still had nearly a full chip. He shoved some ammo into my hand as well. “Now you won’t be a sitting duck. Let’s go.”

The gun was still warm. “W-Wait, I don’t know how to use this one,” I objected.

“You point and shoot,” he said over his shoulder. “Do I need to remind you which end the bullets come out of?”

[glxthoughts-old]

the natural evolution of the commedia dell’arte is fanfiction. thank you.

[allylikethecat]

I did it!! I finished the next chapter of You Know Where the City Is! I'm going to do another read through and post it tomorrow 🥰 Thank you so much for everyones patience!

[obeydontstray]

Started a fic for Harding Hooten from Monday Mornings.

Harding finds an abandoned baby at the hospital and is left in charge of it during the day. Part 1/3.

[tazelll]

do you want more angst and pain abt ahsoka and rex burying the 501st post order 66?? THEN LOOK NO FURTHER THAN THEMANOFMANYFANDOMS’ DUST AND SMOKE!!!!!!

[travelingtwentysomething]

I need 100k words on my desk by Monday morning. Prompto.

fake relationship but its a king and his concubine that was once an amazing soldier but he couldn’t go up the ranks for whatever reason so the king was like listen. hear me out. you can be my strategy dude. u just gotta be okay w walking around shirtless a lot. and soldier dude is like man that’s an UPSIDE and yknow they end up falling in love

[luvrodite]

HALLWAY CRUSH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ he's your boyfriend, but you've still got a massive crush on him

Four long, boring hours loom ahead of you when you walk to campus on Monday morning. Lectures all packed closely within the same building, on the same floor, you dread the day. Winter leaves your hands numb as you walk towards the building you’ll be spending your time in today, and you curse yourself for forgetting your gloves, sticking stiff fingers into your pockets.

There is only one other person in the lecture theatre when you walk in, sitting off to the side. You offer them a polite nod when their eyes meet yours, and continue up the stairs to take a seat, thankful for the warmth in the room. The both of you are early, and it’s quiet in the room as you take out your things, the faint smell of something lingering in the air, not entirely unpleasant, but peculiar in the way of old lecture halls. 

It’s this smell you have to endure for the next two hours. When the hour draws closer to 9 and the rest of the few students who actually bother to show up to lectures in person begin to trickle in, you’re already fighting off a yawn and wishing you’d gotten coffee from one of the vending machines in the lobby.

You switch your phone on and off, peering down at the lockscreen fondly. The black and white photobooth strip stares back, three rectangular photos stacked atop each other. The dark haired boy in the picture winks through the pixels at you, and you hide a grin. When your professor walks in and begins to set up, you tuck your phone away, finding a bit of comfort in the pretty smile of a lover.

It only lasts so long, however, and you’re soon back to staring grumpily at a set of slides and fighting back tears at the strength of your yawns–you’ve gone through so many in the last twenty minutes it’s getting rude. It isn’t his fault, your poor old professor, that he speaks so slowly, or that you’re not made for morning classes. After yet another yawn, you rub your eyes tiredly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

The text comes through in the middle of your lecture, an hour into the history of corporations, and you flick your gaze down to the bubble that appears over your lockscreen. Your boyfriend’s contact photo accompanies the message, and you bite back a grin, reading the two words.

>> look up

Confused, you glance up to the door of the lecture theatre that looks out into the hallway, propped ajar with an old textbook. In the background, your lecturer takes a question, and you really should be listening, but you’re wondering whether the message was actually meant for you and then–

Jason, stupidly handsome, and bright eyed, walks past the door, peering in and grinning when you make eye contact. You just about jolt in your seat, unable to contain your own smile when he glances at your professor and shoots you a cheeky wink. Idiot, you think fondly. 

He’s gone before you can blink, leaving you to return to the class once more. Only, how can you, when you’ve got to settle your silly little lovesick heart, grinning like a fool? 

>> you’re so pretty baby

And just when you think you’ve got a handle on your heart, the butterflies spring forth anew with his next text.

i had to sit in the same lecture theatre for FOUR hours today can you believe. anyway made eye contact with everyone walking outside because i was so tired and i just kept imagining this stupid (affectionate) boy walking past and timing his text so you'd see him when you look up. because this is fanfiction. and i can make him do that!

this is separate from the last college!au piece but you can imagine it to be set in the same au if you want! i just think boyfriend jason in a college au is something that can be so special

[writingsofhubris-a]

We're remotely secluded in this far away place

Rating: E WC: 3.8k Tags: Threesome - M/M/Other, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Aftercare, Grinding, Overstimulation, Crossdressing Fandom: Monday Mornings, Pete's Meteor Ship:Harding Hooten/Reader/Hugh Weldon Disc: You'd often travel with Harding when he would find international travel due to work. It was during one such trip to Ireland that you'd met the adorable, nerdy Doctor Weldon. Curls and thick glasses, it hadn't taken much prodding for Harding to let him into your shared bed, and less time to find himself fucking Hugh. Months later, Hugh still enjoyed his time between your legs, and Harding between his.

[Read here on AO3]

[thatwholethingwiththeduck]

In the year of our lord 2024 I wrote a lot of fanfiction about these stupid medical malpractice guys.

It seemed easier to note the ones that weren't Hilson.

(Other fic: a03)

post-series

He Wants

Dying Men 

Suspicious

Favor 

Cocktails 

The Sixth Stage

pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name

eternal themes 

One More Story

Happy [stacy/cuddy]

The Open Road

Declarations 

a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

season 8

the drinks always have subtext

depends on how much you have to drink

season 7

Ten Days

He'd Know 

(He'd want to be left alone) [gen]

between pain and not 

season 6

absolution

Wonder

Manly Heterosexual Beers

Third Wheel

Regular Friendship

Couch Politics

star anise with caramelized onions

cures for insomnia 

Set The Date 

Rings

the secret sits in the middle and knows 

your slightest look easily will unclose me

we dance around in a ring

I'm Your Man

Proposal 2024 

Curious [bonnie/nora]

season 5

Personality Flaw 

Someone Always Cries [cameron/wilson with background hilson pining]

Not Friends

season 4

James Wilson and the Cozy Blanket of Denial

season 3

Questions and Answers 

True Hate's Kiss 

a light breeze

season 2

In The Human World

Autopilot

Hypotheticals 

Don't Cry 

Miserable 

season 1

Spaghetti 

vague timeline

Kinder

Hiring Practices 

5 Feelings 

the thing is 

Drinking Game

Distraction [houseteen]

Data

Fourth Time’s The Charm 

Pain Relief [houseteen]

Souvenirs You Never Lose 

Sensitivity Training 

Diagnosis

what we talk about when we talk about big pharma 

The Replacement 

Guys' Night Out

whumptober 2024 [mostly hilson]

Monday Morning

Open Bar 

miniatures [drabbles]

everyone deserves the chance to fly 

Up Is Down

Desperate Wilsonwives

pre-series

you love him more 

Wedding Bells 

Before [gen]

Feminist Sisterhood Something Something [stacy/cuddy]

the opposite of waiting for godot [gen]

au

two roads diverged in new orleans and i (i took the road less traveled by) 

(do stand so close to me) [bonus amber/stacy, choreman, taubner]

say hello to your friends (diagnosis club!) 

crossovers

Flamingos (Boston Legal)

Divorced Men's Club (Friends)

Napa (Mom)

Second Wives Club (Frasier)

assume it will be brilliant (Grey's Anatomy)

Love is itself unmoving (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

my own beginning, my own ending (Star Trek)