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bittercape · 11 months ago

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2023 fanfic roundup

perhaps the fact that I dreaded writing this roundup really says it all. because this year's stats:

81 fics

176,665 words

Completed projects:

Year of the OTP: 12 works, 30k

Year of Jason and Slade: 12 works, 28k

Whump-/monsterfuck-/winterhawkhoodtober: 31 works, 33k

Exchanges: I don't even know, so many

I've sorted chronologically by fandom, and listed my favourites at the start in case you're looking for a teaspoon rather than a whole bathtub.

author's favourites:

how to get ahead in Gotham

the DC/Discworld crossover someone actually asked for. I'm really happy with this one - it's one of the few fics I took my time with this year, and it's all the better for it. It's a murder mystery (sort of) with Vimes, Sybil and Vetinari in Gotham, and more than anything it's funny. or at least I think it is.

fandoms: DC/Discworld

rating: M

wordcount: 16858

ships: Sybil/Sam, Jason/Slade

it's a horrible morning in Gotham

the soulmate goose fic. I personally thing my writing is best when it's fun, and this one very much is that. it's also a little sad in places, but not more than absolutely necessary.

rating: M

wordcount: 7537

ship: Jason/Slade

the unbearable lightness of bedding

the IKEA fic. this is just comedy from beginning to end, but it was the fic where I figured out Dick's voice and I had a lot of fun with it. also outsider POV on the ship, which I always love to write (and read).

rating: T

wordcount: 2045

ship: Jason/Slade

a bird on the edge of a blade

this one is not all that funny, but I am very pleased with it. featuring my favourite trope murder as a love language. it's what Jason deserves.

rating: T

wordcount: 1261 words

ship: Tim/Jason

cornucopia

back to the comedy, or possibly porn-comedy. in which Jason gets cursed to sprout horns whenever he's horny. it's exactly as silly as it sounds.

rating: E

wordcount: 3078

ship: Jason/Slade

go wherever you go today

I was going to stop at five, but I really am very fond of this tiny little slip of a thing. A slow morning for Natasha.

rating: G

wordcount: 601

ships: none

so! over to the full list:

DC -- series

tell it slant

works: 4

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

with fingers and teeth

works: 2

complete: no

ship: Jason/Slade

blackbird

works: 13

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

(has a little bit of Winter Soldier, but not enough to be a crossover imo)

the kamakura job

works: 3

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

windows of opportunity

works: 7

complete: no

ships: Jason/Slade, Dick/Tim

DC -- oneshots

stuck on a winning streak

rating: T

wordcount: 512

ship: Jason/Slade

paradise at my fingertips

rating: T

wordcount: 1559

ships: Jason/Slade, background Dick/Tim

under your skin (over the moon)

rating: T

wordcount: 1044

ships: Jason/Slade, background Dick/Tim

the unbearable lightness of bedding

rating: T

wordcount: 2045

ship: Jason/Slade

a bird on the edge of a blade

rating: T

wordcount: 1261 words

ship: Tim/Jason

say I'm wrong, make me right

rating: E

wordcount: 3180

ship: Jason/Slade

it's a horrible morning in Gotham

rating: M

wordcount: 7537

ship: Jason/Slade

dulce y fatal

rating: M

wordcount: 1792

ship: Jason/Slade

like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

rating: E

wordcount: 3357

ship: Jason/Slade

headed straight into the fire

rating: E

wordcount: 1925 words

ship: Jason/Slade

you're how I pray

rating: E

wordcount: 1396 words

ship: Jason/Slade

(choke this love) 'til the veins start to shiver

rating: E

wordcount: 2126

ship: Jason/Slade

that hunger in you

rating: T

wordcount: 1702 words

ship: Jason/Slade

eggs eggs eggs

rating: E

wordcount: 3969

ship: Jason/Slade

living and dying and the stories that are true

rating: T

wordcount: 954

ships: Tim/Dick, Jason/Slade

feel me, completer (down to my core)

rating: E

wordcount: 1546

ships: Jason/Slade

sink your claws in

rating: E

wordcount: 2160

ship: Jason/Slade

cornucopia

rating: E

wordcount: 3078

ship: Jason/Slade

just a shot away from you

rating: E

wordcount: 2649

ship: Jason/Slade

poured a drink all over my wiring

rating: T

wordcount: 910

ship: Jason/Slade

cookies & communication

rating: E

wordcount: 2218

ship: Jason/Slade

the snowball effect

rating: E

wordcount: 1428

ship: Dick/Jason

warm like a gun

rating: E

wordcount: 1690

ship: Jason/Slade

Marvel

sub rosa

rating: T

wordcount: 2542

ship: Bucky/Clint

make you feel whole

rating: G

wordcount: 574

ship: Bucky/Clint

the path, it just ain't clear

rating: T

wordcount: 4937

ship: Bucky/Clint

winterhawk bingo drabbles

rating: M

wordcount: 596

ship: Bucky/Clint

go wherever you go today

rating: G

wordcount: 601

ships: none

the Berlin exception

rating: T

wordcount: 3021

ship: Bucky/Clint

Crossovers -- series

barter economy

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

works: 2

ships: Jason/Slade, Dick/Tim, Bucky/Clint

complete: no

snow on the beach

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

works: 15

ships: Bucky/Clint/Jason

complete: no (missing a rather crucial bit of porn)

marvelbats

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating:

works: 2

ships: Tony/Roy, Steve/Jason

complete: no

Crossovers -- oneshots

of people wrapped up tight in things that will kill them

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating:

wordcount:

ships: Bucky/Clint/Jason, complete (strictly speaking whumptober 2022, but was completed in march 23

how to get ahead in Gotham

fandoms: DC/Discworld

rating: M

wordcount: 16858

ships: Sybil/Sam, Jason/Slade

coming night

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

wordcount: 4790

ships: Tim/Venom, Roy/Jason, Clint/Dick

coddled, not shirred

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

wordcount: 4790

ship: Eddie/Jason/Venom

Others

effanineffable

fandom: Discworld

rating: G

wordcount: 1433

ships: none

This madness has only been possible thanks to my magnificent beta and partner in crime @mightymightygnomepriest, who genuinely has the patience of a saint. Thank you so much, darling Rach. I promise I will slow down next year.

#my fic #roundup #sladejay #jayde #dicktim #jaydick #jaytim #winterhawk #winterhawkhood #crossover #jason todd #red hood #slade wilson #deathstroke #bucky barnes #clint barton

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ouroboros-hideout · 9 months ago

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WIP WHENEVER, WHEREVER

(we are meant to be together shakira shakira)

@olath124 tagged me for this, thanks friend!

Still rather low on content or WIPs I can show but it's something

ART

Don't know if I would call it art actually but I am currently making myself some Discord emojis of Aon aka Knife Queen aka Blorbo Girl.

That's the first one I got done. Because smirking is very important 👆 will do 3 or 4 more I guess. Laughing, something sad, angery and what ever inspiration brings along the way.

The Dogtown Noir pics where fun to do but I noticed real quick that I need a lot of focus to get some good shots. And I don't have that most of the time. I heard there is actually a city outside of Dogtown KEK maybe I will go there next and do some photos 💫

WRITING

Putting this last so no one is forced to read the wall of txt. I still have a lot of unfinished ramblings but nothing that would make sense to show. I started to write some small bits for my own amusement and positive vibes based upon a soft OTP promt list (or what ever it was called). It's only stupid conversations and I think it's nothing for AO3, so probably just throw it here whenever I finished one.

Write about your ship getting dressed up in fancy outfits together:

"Oh my god I hate this so much..."

Aon pulled on his black bolero jacket and looked at herself in the mirror next to the large closet in Kurt's apartment on the top floor of the Sapphire with an unimpressed expression.

"You don't like what I've chosen for you?" Kurt asked, still beeing busy in the bathroom.

"No... yes. I mean. No, I don't like all of this." She grimaced a little more and turned around to look at the elegant suit trousers and expensive shoes she would be wearing tonight.

"Fancy clothes, putting up with brainless snobs at glamorous parties. Pretending to care about what they do and who they are. I really don't know why you like that so much."

"You'll have fun, I'm sure of it." Kurt came back to the main room and took his leather harness, which was still lying on the bed, and put it around his shoulders. He chose a more elegant garment than usual for tonight aswell, as Alyona had demanded, but he wasn't going to abandon all of his military habits.

"I'll have fun at the bar. I know that for sure."

She was still tugging at the jacket, as if she was trying to minimize the revealing neckline of the top.

"And you had to pick something so provocative, didn't you? Well, at least it's not a glittery cocktail dress. You could have worn that yourself."

Kurt laughed heartily at the last comment, took a few steps over to her and fastened the last buttons on the collar of his black shirt.

"You look fantastic."

That didn't really convince her.

"Oh, shut the fuck up. I feel like I'm playing dress-up."

Kurt was now standing behind her, looking in the mirror with her, still smiling.

"Well, in a way, we do, don't we? If you want to get close to your prey, you have to wrap yourself in it´s fur."

Aon let out an amused snort. "You're such a poet Kurt, it's almost unbelievable," she replied sarcastically.

"Still, I'm glad you decided to come along. I don't think it will do you any harm to see something other than the workshop." He put his hands on her hips and leaned forward a little. At least he liked the sight of the two of them in the mirror.

"Hmmm, what I wouldn't give to spend all night fixing that Chimera-Junk gathering dust in your warehouse...", she replied with a playfully dreamy tone.

"You enjoyed the evening at the Totentanz. You can't deny that."

"You're seriously comparing your fancy-pants party to the thing at the Totentanz?"

"It was a party, you didn't want to go and you ended up enjoying it."

"Maybe because even the smallest circute in Maelstrom is a more interesting conversation partner than everyone you've invited today."

Kurt leaned a little closer to her.

"If you decide to stay here after all, I want you to come to every party. Not because I like to see you suffer, but because then I would finally have something to look forward to in the evening. Pleasant company and someone I can rely on."

"Don't get too excited. I might already have a plan to ruin everything."

"That doesn't matter. It would definitely still be a night to remember because you were with me."

Her face twisted into a grimace.

"Damn, you're such a suck-up. No wonder you've got all these snobs eating out of your hand."

"But the difference is that I mean my compliments to you seriously."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh again when he noticed Aon blushing and quickly turning away from the mirror so he wouldn't notice.

"Okay, let's get going. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can say I've tried long enough."

She hastily disengaged from his embrace and walked straight towards the door.

He followerd her right away.

"You stay until the end. I'll tell the bartender to keep you 'entertained'."

Think most of the ppl I would tag have already shown their awesome stuff lately so I will skip this time. See you next time!

#wip whenever #writing stuff #art stuff #ouroboros talks #OTP: Like Napalm

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jeremywhitley · 2 years ago

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Julie Power, Queer Relationships and OTPs

Hey, two provisos before I jump into what I’m about to say:

1) My last name is not Marvel and I don’t own these characters. Before and after I write them, other people will write and/or have written them. Most of them. That’s what success in corporate comics looks like in this day and age - not that you get to write a character/group of characters forever but that other creators remember they exist and include them in new stories and they get to have a long happy life. That said, characters change and the valid interpretation is the one that leads to more stories. You, as a fan, are also interpreted to love whatever version of the character you like as long as you don’t hassle creators about it.

2) As always, I am not the perfect person to write this mini-essay, I’m just the one writing the comic and therefore the one that can explain the thoughts and feelings that went into making the decisions I did.

We good? Okay. Let’s continue!

Being gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual or wherever else a person falls in a spectrum does not make a person more or less than human. It does not make every relationship perfect. In fact, having a sexuality for which there isn’t quite as many years of literature and self-help books often leads to complications that you don’t know how to navigate. It is a rarely acknowledged but pretty obvious fact that this would go double or more for people who were also dealing with the complications of being a superhero in the modern era. A lot of those people have experiences with multiple apocalypse scenarios, a knowledge that there are parallel universes in which pareallel versions of them exist (like a version of me who types parallel the same way twice in a row, one can dream), mind control, reality manipulation, and time travel. Their life is complicated and relationships are difficult in a world where few of those things are commonplace.

In talking about Schitt’s Creek, Glen Weldon expressed a frustration and distaste for the central gay relationship in that show, not because it wasn’t cute and precocious but because it wasn’t realistic. You have a person who has been dating around and having several unresolved and unsatisfying queer relationships paired up with a freshly out, just admitted he’s gay, never dated another man love interest. It’s sweet. It also gives an unrealistic portrait of what life is like for a queer person. It’s hard to argue with people loving that relationship, but it’s impossible to argue with Glenn’s point. Dating is complicated and difficult. Adding queerness to that only makes it more complicated, not less. We often don’t know what we want or need and it’s more difficult to understand what you want and need with less context. Straight people have been struggling with telling their partners what they want and need even as their relationship has been a necessity of human species survival.

But we tend to push the idea of an OTP or “one true pairing” onto queer couples for a variety of reasons, but mainly two:

1) There are so few queer relationships in media that when one happens, queer audiences tend to hold onto it tightly in the worry that there will never be another one like it.

2) The idea that all or most queer relationships are the result of an undeniable love between two halves of the same whole reunited at last and it would be horrible to part them, makes queer relationships more palatable to straight audiences who are still growing in their understanding of the difference between same sex sexual attraction, same sex romance, and same sex fucking.

The end result is a pretty warped understanding of queer people and same sex relationships.

All of this is sort of preamble to say that in this week’s issue of Love Unlimited, I broke up a romantic pairing off panel that I created in Future Foundation a few years ago. In the last issue of Future Foundation, I had Rikki Barnes and Julie Power kiss. They had just been through an extremely dangerous prison break during which they had both almost died and saved one another’s lives. The moment was absolutely ripe for two Sapphic people to get swept up in the moment and intensely make out. It was a relationship I would like to have explored more, especially as they are two characters I care very deeply about. I think it would have been fun. I also do not think it would have worked out long term. Most relationships don’t and they are very different people.

I saw a post somebody made earlier today on tumblr about how Julie Power throws herself at every queer and available white girl in the Marvel Universe. There’s only one part of that I would prefer to not be true and that’s the white part. It is true about the comics as they have come out, but I don’t see Julie as the kind of person who wouldn’t fall in love with a person of color. In fact, to the point of that post, I see Julie as a person who is open to connection and cares a great deal about physical affection. She’s a hugger. She’s constantly taking people under her wing. She falls for people hard and loves hard. Not to get too intimate with it, but she’s probably a person who enjoys sex and physical contact and affection. Those things aren’t important to everyone or meaningful in the same way to everyone, but they are to some people.

But also, that doesn’t mean that every relationship those people enter into has to be THE ONE. We all enjoy our own OTPs and a lot of us have that same investment in people we know in real life. God knows, I have had that investment in queer friends that found love and there are people that have had that same investment in my wife and I because we’re a mixed race couple. Those facts about a relationship don’t make it work out without the same sort of effort, love, affection, and sheer luck as any other successful relationship. I think ascribing that same sort of mythological status to every same sex relationship is ultimately short sighted and harmful.

Julie’s way of finding love, like a lot of us, is to throw herself headfirst into relationships, love hard, experiences extraordinary moments, and get hurt when things don’t work out. She, literally, has a heroic impulse toward relationships. Is that healthy, maybe not. But hey, I kind of admire it.

So yeah, I broke up a relationship off panel that barely had a chance to exist on panel because that’s the way I see it going. On the bright side, she’s in another relationship now and we’ll see how that goes.

If there’s a thing I guess I want people to take away from this, it’s that it’s okay for your relationship not to work out and that you shouldn’t treat your queer friends like they’re characters in a Shakespeare play that have to love each other unconditionally and die together in a crypt if things don’t work out.

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c2-eh · 1 year ago

Note

Charlos, 50 through 55

thanks maina for asking mwahhh

50. Who's more likely to do something out of spite?

Both, but I am leaning towards Charles. He can be a little bitch sometimes (affectionate)

51. What's a non verbal way they say I love you

FOREHEAD! KISSES! BELOVED! also any type of handholding. Squeezing your hand to say i love you and comfort you without words ❤��

52. Describe their weekend getaway

They'd fight where to go between Mallorca or wherever Charles wants to go. They end up spending time on yacht because they're basic like that, but somewhere more private without any prying eyes. They do the usual - eat, drink, fuck, swim, sleep and just relax because their lives are insaaane. Orrrr I can see them going to dolomites they both looooove so much (annoying /lh). They prefer to go alone to fully enjoy each other :))

53. Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Yes. Although they'd have to do it on some private island or sth otherwise we'd get paparazzi pics of their dicks

54. Who's more likely to carry the other to bed?

Carlos

55. Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

Star gazing!!!! Carlos actually watches Charles more than the stars, because he's his best view ❤️

obligatory OTP asks

#obligatory OTP ask #charlos

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janeyre · 9 months ago

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call me on the way home (1/2)

otp: tentoo x rose

word count: 5k

summary: After a slight mishap at Torchwood, Rose has gone temporarily missing. While Mia is out, she runs into her mum, but not as she last saw her - instead wearing a blue leather jacket with deep circles beneath her eyes. Worried about her mum's state and trying to comfort her, Mia calls the Doctor so Rose can speak to him.

AO3

Really quite a bummer when your mum goes missing, even if it’s just for a Torchwood mission and it’s probably fine anyways. Wandering the streets of central London, Mia Tyler was hopeful it would all be resolved soon – her dad wasn’t one to let anything happen to the one and only Rose Tyler.

The corners of her mouth turned up at the thought. She had fifteen years of experience in just how protective her dad was over “his girls.”

Apparently they’d been dealing with some aliens, Ainchenns, who had what her dad liked to call a “transport gun” – a teleportation device turned weapon. Whoever wound up on the receiving end suddenly found themselves somewhere else entirely. The beam wasn’t very strong though, so at most, her mum had just been displaced to some other location on this little island they liked to call home. God forbid she ended up somewhere the likes of Aberdeen, though.

The very thought made her shiver, no matter the summer sun that shone in the sky.

Lost in her frigid northern thoughts, Mia was quite content to let her feet take her wherever they may. Truth be told, it almost stressed her out more to be with her dad when things like this happened. Living in the uncertainty of the situation right there along with him was a lot different than being somewhere else and trusting that it would all work out. Besides, he was probably sitting there just trying her mum’s mobile anyway.

No sooner had she rounded a corner and found herself in front of the Thames, that she found her mum as well.

The sensation of the void ate at Rose Tyler’s very being as if pulling her apart from every direction and then– it was over.

Christ, but she was still in London.

Upon immediate reflection, it wasn’t the right one either, as the TARDIS key she had carefully tucked beneath her shirt remained cold.

“Control, shift me back in fifteen. Not the right universe, gonna take a quick look around.” Don’t even think I left this universe in the first place, she murmured under her breath. The zeppelins overhead certainly weren’t a good sign.

“Roger that, over.”

She looked up from sliding her phone into her pocket right into the face of a shocked teenage girl who had just rounded the corner and was now, at the sight of her, running up to grab her in a hug.

“Mum! Oh thank god you’re alright, we’ve been worried sick about you.” And suddenly Rose found herself with arms thrown round her neck, hugging her tightly.

Shit, shit, shit, she thought. Whoever this kid is, I’m not her mum. But I can’t go breaking her heart, if she’s vulnerable enough to throw herself at a stranger.

The young girl let out a laugh that seemed suspiciously wet. “Dad’s gonna be so upset when he hears that after all the work he did, it was me who found you.” She inhaled deeply, as if finally relaxing. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

What am I gonna say to her? Rose thought. She returned the hug gently, so as not to alarm her. Think of something, think of something…

She pulled away slowly to look the young woman in the eyes, brown enough to remind her of– she stopped that thought in its tracks as soon as it started, even if the metaphorical knife between her ribs was already twisting. “Sweetheart, I…. I may not be who you think I am.”

The look in the teenager’s eyes changed in an instant. “Mum?” The single syllable was dripping with confusion.

But before Rose was forced to think of something else to say in this painfully awkward conversation, a lightbulb seemed to go off in the young girl’s eyes. As if sizing her up, she scanned Rose up and down, before nodding her head ever so slightly to herself.

“You’ve not just come by way of Ainchenn transport gun, have you?”

Rose shook her head carefully, brows knitting in confusion. How could a kid think to ask a question like that?

This too had a profound effect on the stranger. Her cheeks burnt bright red, her eyes flying down to her trainers.

“God , I’m so sorry. I’m, well, I’m Mia. I’m, um,” she paused, searching for the right words in this impossible situation. How to introduce yourself to the person who chose your name, raised you? “I am still your daughter though.” She cringed instantly. Great word choice.

Rose only quirked an eyebrow before the girl – Mia – started again.

“Sorry, sorry, that sounded insane too. What I mean is, well,” another pause, “you’re not from this time period, are you?”

At this, Rose grew deeply, genuinely confused. It was her turn to size up the person in front of her. How could a girl who scarcely looked old enough for high school know about time travel? Why would she?

“I’m not, no. I’m travelling, trying to get back to this man I used to travel with, called the –”

“The Doctor,” Mia finished in unison.

Rose’s heart set quick to pounding. “You know the Doctor?” She could tell her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open, but she didn’t care. If this girl knew about the Doctor, she would take whatever she could get. She could feel the blood rushing hot through her veins.

Mia smiled, and nodded cautiously. “Yeah, like I said, I’m your daughter.”

Rose’s head span. What?

“What do you mean?”

Mia smiled sheepishly. “The Doctor and Rose Tyler are my parents. You’re Rose Tyler.”

Rose’s ears were ringing. The Doctor and Rose Tyler are my parents. She and the Doctor had a kid? She’d never even considered kids with him, let alone thought he might want to have some with her one day.

But if she were telling the truth…

And if she really was still in Pete’s World…

And Mia’s eyes did remind her of the Doctor’s.

Rose shook her head; the thought was insane. She needed to get a hold of herself.

She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

“How do you know about the Doctor?” she questioned again.

Mia bit her lip, deep in thought. Clearly this whole “knowing the Doctor” thing was a hang-up for her mum – makes sense if that’s the one thing that’s been kept out of her reach for the past few years.

Another lightbulb clicked on.

“Can I show you a picture?” When Rose didn’t show signs of dissenting, she pulled out her phone. “For us, your birthday was just last week, so we went out to dinner, the three of us. I can show you.”

Mia drifted into Rose’s personal space, where Rose practically vibrated with tension. She watched with rapt attention as Mia opened her messages, tapped a string titled “THE tylers” and then scrolled up a ways. She tried to read the messages as they flew past as fast as she could – the phrase “Grandma Jackie” stood out to her, and a text that read “so I’m still picking you up from school?” At last, Mia found what she was looking for, and tapped on the picture to let it fill the screen.

Rose’s heart stopped in her chest, her very breath freezing in her lungs.

There for her eyes to drink their fill was herself, squished between the young woman who stood before her and the Doctor. Right there, grinning so wide it could split his face, with his arm around Rose’s shoulders.

The Doctor.

She couldn’t help herself from lifting the phone from Mia’s hands to inspect it closer, or to quickly brush away the tear that had landed on the screen.

The face that she hadn’t seen in almost three years. Looking into the camera. Looking at her. She wanted to stand here and soak it up forever. She wanted to do whatever it took to be in that photo.

(As if flinging herself across universes wasn’t enough. If only it worked.)

Mia was finding it hard to be unaffected at the sight of her own mother being so distraught, no matter how far apart in time they were. Her own heart clenched at the way tears welled up and ran down her mother’s cheeks, unnoticed, because she was so entranced by the picture before her.

It was devastating. Hearing her parents, stupid, love-drunk as they were, talking about their time apart was one thing, but watching one of them trapped in the very middle of that heartbreak was something else entirely. Before she even realised she was doing it, Mia was searching for a way to fix this, to make it better.

She’d heard when she walked up that her mum was already planning on jumping back. Not reversing the transport gun like she’d thought, but jumping back. With the dimension cannon. Having her dad come over from wherever he was wouldn’t work. They might not have a lot of time.

A lightbulb didn’t flicker on this time so much as a neon sign above an all-night diner never really turns off.

“I can call him,” Mia suddenly heard herself say. Rose’s head snapped up, as if on a string that had been yanked. “If you want.”

Rose’s throat went dry. “Call him?” She blinked, tried to stand up straighter.

Mia nodded, unsure but hopeful. “Would that be okay? Would you like that?” Please say yes, she thought.

Rose nodded, trying to take hold of herself. “Yeah. Call him.” She tried to catch her breath. “Please.”

Her heart was pounding. It was like she’d just had ten shots of espresso, ran a marathon, and been awake for three days straight. In a few short moments, she was going to talk to the Doctor.

Rose delicately handed the phone back, treating it as if it were a newborn baby. As far as she was concerned, it was precious. She watched as Mia took it, navigated to the phone, and from the favourites list tapped on the contact titled Dad, followed by three banana emojis.

As it began to ring Mia brought it to her ear. The sound was deafening.

Make that eleven shots of espresso. She was going to throw up. The blare of the dial tone. She was going to pass out. She was going to–

“Hello, my ladybug,” a garbled – but unmistakable — voice said on the other end of the line.

The Doctor was on the other end of that phone call. It was all Rose could do not to break down into tears right there.

Mia felt suddenly winded. “Dad?”

“I’m here. Is everything okay?” It was so good to hear his voice. Why did she have tears in her eyes?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Um, funny story, though.” Her eyes flickered nervously to her mum, who wasn’t so much looking at her as the phone pressed to her ear.

“Funny story in a good way, or a bad way?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You know how before Mum found you again, she jumped around to different places? Across, like, universes, and stuff?”

“I’m not likely to forget.” It was an attempt at cheek, but his suddenly sombre tone belied any humour.

Rose’s heart felt almost too big for her chest. She was going to explode. She was listening to the Doctor talk about what she was going through right now. He remembered. In whatever future he was in, he knew and he remembered because they were in that future together.

“Well, uhm.” Her voice picked up speed. “It’s not Mum now, it’s before she came back, she’s jumped here and she’s here and she wants to talk to you. She, uhm. She misses you.”

“What? ” Even without seeing him, both women could clearly picture the look of confusion on his face.

“I think she may have to –” she searched for the right word “-- go back soon, but I was thinking you could talk to her?”

Even from here, she could hear the gears turning in his mind.

“Can I give the phone to her?”

He came out of his stupor a little. “Yeah, yes, please. Thank you, Mia. You clever, clever girl.”

Mia looked up at Rose then, gently offering the phone towards her. Rose gazed back, as if she was being trusted with something too precious to be exchanged here, on this pavement beside the Thames, on a random over-bright day.

She brought the phone to her ear, ever so delicately.

“Rose?” the Doctor said.

She couldn’t help it.

She burst into tears.

“Rose, is that you?”

She tried to manage an affirmative mmhmm, she really did. But he was talking to her and she had missed him so much .

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry I’m not there with you right now.” The sound of his voice . She sobbed. “Are– are you alright?”

“I just–” She blew out a long breath. “I - I miss you.” The admission was enough to start her off again, her grief having finally found an outlet through which to pass freely; the water of the river finally crashing through the dam.

“I know,” he murmured, “I miss you too.”

And it was so terribly true, the Doctor thought to himself. Sitting alone at this table in a conference room at Torchwood, having spent the whole afternoon trying to find his wife. And she was looking for him too. His heart twisted and snarled in his chest, looking for something to close around, aching to be with her. No matter the time or the place. They were always trying to find their way back to each other.

Another sob breaking through her almost destroyed him. He’d spent (too much) time since opening his eyes to this new existence now more than twenty-some years ago, thinking about all the ways he wished he could have been there for her when she was doing this – jumping from universe to universe, no end in sight and no reason to hope, with the weight of all of creation and then some on her shoulders. All alone.

All but for this stolen reprieve.

“You are so brave, my precious, brilliant girl. I am so lucky being able to talk to you right now, to tell you that it’s all going to be okay. Because it is. I’m proof, and so is Mia.” Rose resigned all hope of reigning in her tears. Her eyes flickered up to Mia at the mention, who was watching her nervously but tried for a reassuring smile at the eye contact. She offered her mum a little thumbs up.

“We have a daughter, Rose.”

Even though he knew it, and had known it, and had revelled in the joy of it for more than fifteen years, the Doctor still found himself suddenly misty-eyed. “Every single joy in the universe lives in her, and in you, because you found your way back to me. I promise, you are so close to this nightmare being over, okay? I promise. Even though I’m not with you now physically, I’m always with you. My Fortuna.”

Her breath shuttered and halted and rushed back in. My Fortuna.

“Can I ask, when you’ve just come from?”

She cleared her throat and tried to take a steadying breath. She was going to find her way back to him. The thought overwhelmed her every sense. She was blind, unseeing in the dark, except for this one flicker of light she could now crawl towards.

“My birthday’s just gone, too. Just over a month ago now. 2008.”

The Doctor couldn’t help the short gasp he let out. If it was almost June 2008, then she really was close to this nightmare being over.

“Is – is that good?” Nervous.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, could picture it stretching his cheeks and shining like the sun. “Yes . I know I don’t need to tell you we’re toeing the proverbial laws-of-time line as it is already, but you are so close. You’re in the home stretch.”

A bomb could have just gone off, from the way her ears were ringing. The home stretch. She was in the home stretch and she was going to find him again and one day she’d be able to see the smile she could now only hear.

With cruel irony, her dimension cannon beeped at her side. A computer’s voice announced, “two minutes until shift.”

Damn that stupid cannon and these stupid universes and her stupid luck.

“It feels like I’m never gonna find you,” she whispered. Her darkest secret.

His heart twisted and shattered and broke. He missed her. He needed her. He loved her.

“You will, I promise you will.” He bit down on his lip. The Doctor was and always had been a fixer, but this was a moment where he couldn’t and had no choice; resigned to being a passenger as time ran its unrepentant course. But there was one thing he still hadn’t told her that he wished she knew.

Well, fuck it.

“I’m not going to rob you of any moments you have yet to experience, and there are going to be a lot of good ones,” he chuckled to himself, “but, well, there is something I want you to know. Do you remember the last time we spoke, on the beach?”

Rose Tyler, I- . As if she could ever forget. Pain twisted in her chest, sharp and stinging.

“Yeah,” she breathed out.

The Doctor took a deep breath. “You told me something. Something I don’t take lightly. And I want, need you to know, that… you’re everything to me. You have given me happiness more infinite than I could have ever dreamed of. You are the centre of my universe. You are my heart. I… I care for you more than I can say. Do –” he felt suddenly worried, worried that this opportunity might be lost, that she wouldn’t know, that she was doomed to suffer this next month in the dark, that she had never known until that second time on the beach; not at the Game Station, or Krop Tor, or— “Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

Rose’s tears were hot against her cheeks, her chest heavy with longing. She wanted to run until she found him, and rest with him in her soul at the crack of dawn after this long, long night.

He loved her.

“Yes, Doctor. Of course I do, I do too, I–”

The phone, suddenly without someone to hold it up, fell offensively to the ground. The way it laid there, staring unblinking into the sun against the pavement, was almost violent.

“Rose? Rose?!”

Mia picked the phone up gingerly.

“She disappeared, Dad.”

His head was full of static. His thoughts were rushing and all he could hear was the crash of a wave just about to take him under.

Of course I do. I do too, she had said.

He let out a breath, devastated and relieved as realisation struck like lightning to every one of his nerves.

Oh.

She knows.

#tentoo x rose #ficandchips #rose tyler #doctor who #my fic #otp: if i believe in one thing i believe in her #soooo excited to share!!! been working on this for awhile and finally finished it up #second chapter is already finished so i will post soon 💞#please enjoy !!! i havent published anything since 2021 skckdkk #but trust that i have been here The Whole Time #skdkskdk

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teddybeartoji · 26 days ago

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for the otp/selfship ask game!! i am asking you number 20 with any selfship of your choice 💗

OMGGGG HII CIELO HIIIII:3333333333

20. choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship

OKAY THIS MIGHT BE SUCH A BORING ANSWER BUT.... i love that song and i love him okay...................... my kind of woman by mac demarco and toji😣😣😣

oh, baby // oh, man // you're makin' me crazy // really drivin' me mad // that's alright with me // it's really no fuss // as long as you're next to me // just the two of us

you're my, my, my, my kind of woman // my, oh my, what a girl // you're my, my, my, my kind of woman // and I'm down on my hands and knees // beggin' you please, baby // show me your world

oh, brother // sweetheart // i'm feelin' so tired // really fallin' apart // and it just don't // make sense to me // i really don't know // why you stick right next to me // wherever I go

selfship asks!

#i am glued to his side #always and forever #i will bother him to death and he will love it #CRYING SOBBING WAILING I LOVE HIMMMM #CIELO THIS WAS SUCH A SWEET QUESTION ILYY:((((((((((#cielo <3 #friends!!#miji

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twisting-echo · 10 months ago

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Explaining my OTP with ship dynamic memes!

This is my crackship turned OTP, Merida DunBroch x Randy Boggs (Meridall/DunBoggs/Chase the Winds of Change). My headcanon is set in my modern Mirrorverse University AU, where Randy grew up as Mike and Sulley's childhood friend. He keeps his cute and sweet little cupcake nerdy personality without Johnny Worthington's influence from MU, rather than his evil personality from MI. Strangely enough, Randy managed to win over Merida, his handsome girlfriend, with his adorkable personality. Just think of them as Nerd and Tiger from Nerd and Jock.

(Randy is who Merida is gay for 🤭)

(Merida has blue-firey-wisp-energy powers in my AU, plus she drank from the Fire Falls, so this makes sense.)

(Randy is useless without his glasses, but luckily, his handsome Scottish girlfriend reads things for him.)

And finally...

Yes, I am a die-hard Daisy x Luigi (Luaisy) shipper; I love their dynamic, and wherever I think of Merida and Randy, I think of Daisy and Luigi. The Daisy and Luigi art belongs to @cremanata_art @/cremanata

I don't own any of the other ship dynamic memes; I just found them on Pinterest. If anyone knows to whom some of the pictures belong, tell me, and I'll credit them.

🚫 IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS SHIP, PLEASE DON’T COMMENT OR REBLOG 🚫

🚫 PLEASE DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST MY EDITS 🚫

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leopardmuffinxo · 6 hours ago

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slow blinks ♡

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redwayfarers · 8 months ago

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so i made a thing i refuse to edit but here's a stupid little nika and magnai thing that's been in my head all fucking day. with a side of nika + artoirel bc they're THE otp

After the Naadam, Magnai was obviously displeased. The Oronir tribe should’ve won, without any doubt, and the little Mol were supposed to stay just that, little. Yet they’d managed to gather allies - outsiders even - and thus, until the next Naadam, the mighty Oronir are dethroned, and the Mol are just slightly bigger than they normally are. Even in his displeasure, though, he has to admit that he finds the outsiders interesting. There’s a Doman, Hien, and his samurai friend. There are also hyur - a man and a woman. The woman Magnai cares little about, but the man catches his attention the moment the Oronir warriors bring them before him. There’s something in his eyes, Magnai thinks. They are of different colors, but that’s the least interesting thing about them. They’re hard, they offer a challenge; when Magnai speaks, they follow the man’s words with equal defiance. He introduces himself as Nika, in a voice that still rings of boyhood, even if his body is that of a man. Magnai later learns he also sings. But before he heard his ballads and tales, he heard his bow sing in the Naadam, and that’s what stayed with him. Nevermind that he heard Nika actually sing later, in the celebrations of the Mol’s victory, and that there was so much joy in it that it almost made Magnai forget his pride was wounded. This man is no ordinary outsider, Magnai decides. Not only is he a khagan, but also a bowman that rivals the Oronir, and he sings songs that can make stars weep. Too bad that when their eyes meet, Nika still looks as defiant as he did back before the Naadam even took place. Even worse, Magnai likes it that way.

“Care to burn that dinner off, Magnai?” Nika asks. The sun is setting behind the Dawn throne, making his black hair stand out against the warm sea of rays behind him. It paints his skin with light, or maybe that’s the brilliant flash of teeth he gives Magnai as he stretches his neck. “Been sitting for a long fucking time. Isn’t it time for your twentieth daily wrestling or something?” “That is a form of exercise, khagan,” Magnai responds, voice on edge. He takes another hard bite of meat and chews loudly. “One needs food to do it.” “I think I know a guy who’d stare at you dead in the face for chewing like that,” Nika grimaces. Then his face changes. “I would like to see him stare you down, though. Just to see who wins. Unstoppable force against an immovable object.” Magnai frowns. “Who is this man? Are you challenging me on his behalf?” Nika stares. Then he bursts out laughing, like Magnai just told the funniest joke on the Steppe. Women don’t laugh at him like that, only his warrior brothers and apparently, the outsider khagan. “He has zero idea you exist at all, Magnai.” “Take me to him! We take the yol and fly to wherever he is!” Magnai drops his plate on the ground and raises his chin. Nika’s face contorts as if he’s trying so hard to not laugh still, and then the mask breaks and he wheezes out even more laughter. “I am not taking you to Ishgard,” Nika says in between laughs, but Magnai has no idea where Ishgard is, nor who this mysterious man may be, he only knows he doesn’t like being laughed at, and here is Nika, near crying from how hard he’s laughing. His scar scrunches around his forehead as he wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Artoirel would end me on sight. I care about a few people’s opinions, and his is one of them, so no, you’re not going to Ishgard, yol or no yol.” Magnai stands up. “You are in the Steppe–” “And you’re the big bad Oronir leader guy. Brother of the Sun, was it? I respect that. You can make me break a sweat. But!” Nika raises a finger and lifts a brow. “Until the next Naadam, you’re not khagan. If that frustrates you, we can fight it out. But no Ishgard! Khagan’s orders, or whatever.” He holds Magnai’s stare. Magnai has to admit to himself he likes that, too.

Magnai’s vindicated heart soars when he has Nika in his room, pressed against the wall with little room to move, let alone escape. The indignancy on his face, expressive as ever, makes Magnai laugh, tall and powerful over him. “What now, khagan?” Magnai asks, his delight obvious. Nika claws at his skin and attempts to kick him in the shins. His hair’s in disarray, his clothes too. All of this delights Magnai to a degree he hasn’t felt in a long, long while. “Don’t lord over me, you asshole,” Nika bites out. His breath comes out faster. “What now, khagan?” Magnai repeats. Nika pulls him by the horns. “This is what, you giant lizard,” he says roughly and kisses him hard.

“We can count on you in Doma, then?” It’s the last night before Nika and the outsiders leave, with a promise of the Xaela and their yol in the upcoming battle, and it’s also the last night Magnai has to look at the uninterrupted expanse of Nika’s skin. He’ll miss it; he’ll miss its touch, he’ll miss the silky black hair, but above all, he will miss Nika’s defiant, mismatched eyes. “Yes. Nothing threatens the Steppe.” Magnai leans on his elbow. “Good to know. Garleans are shit for everyone.” Nika settles on the bed. “What?” “You are leaving tomorrow. I’d like to look at you.” “No khagans this time around?” “By the time you come to the Steppe next, you will not be one.” Magnai smiles. “You are not my Nhaama, but this was pleasant.” “I lack tits to be your Nhaama, for one. Number two, even if I had them, I’d still not be the woman you want.” Nika turns to the side and grabs the covers. Small firelight illuminates the scar on his hand. “You don’t need tits to be a woman, but you know what I meant. As a final word of advice on that, women like it when you’re not an acerbic and prideful fuck.” He laughs, but it’s a shaky sound. “Take it from me. Otherwise, this was pleasant for me too.” Magnai laughs. “I��ll see you on the field of battle, Nika. Together, Nhaama or not, we will bring the Garlean empire to its knees. Nothing defeats the yol of the Xaela.” Nika raises a hand. “Don’t have a drink with me, but here’s to seeing Garleans fall once and for all. And to you finding that damn Nhaama.” He then smiles, and it’s a soft, gentle thing. “I think I already found mine.” In the morning, as Nika is flying off to save Doma, Magnai watches him go. He will really, really miss Nika’s eyes.

#nero plays ffxiv #ffxiv #inspo birb has come to town #nika perseis #magnai oronir #stormblood spoilers #not my best work but it's fine

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impandgnomes · 2 years ago

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May I ask you for uhhhhhh Tweek? 💚

Awww tysm! 🥹 Spent a while typing this on mobile, so forgive any typos lmao

1: sexuality headcanon

Honestly, that kid is gay af bless his soul. I could maybe see him also being ace when he grows up ngl?

2: otp

Creek is such a massive cliché, but CREEEEEK. I guess I'm one of those people who feels like it reminds them a lot of their irl relationship lmao. If you swapped out Craig's guinea pig thing with rats, you'd probably have a good approximation of my partner but as a 10 year-old American cartoon boy

3: brotp

Any one of the kids known as being in "Craig's gang" by the fandom (so like; Clyde, Jimmy, Tolkien lmao), and honestly Wendy. Those two haven't really interacted much, but she genuinely seems to give a shit about him lmao - her genuine concern for him after the fake breakup in Tweek x Craig made me feel so bad for her (Side note; anyone else ever been really bothered by how everyone still probably thought Craig was the bad guy at the end of that episode??? I like to think Tweek confessed to that whole ruse in front of literally the entire town right away 😭 Craig may seem like a bag of frosted arseholes but he's a good kid who desrves to be seen for who he is and not done dirty)

4: notp

I hate to say it but I've never really seen him as being with anyone but Craig lmao - maybe hetero ships? Not going to go on crusades or even feel mad, but it feels odd to imply he's anything but gay to me. it definitely feels weird to see him with anyone else romantically, but if whatever is said by a fan piece interests me, I'll probably check it out.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

I like to think that his parents are so narcissistic, that they named him Tweek unironically as a way of advertising themselves and their shop wherever the boy goes - even when his name isn't said in full. He was 100% named after the place, but they probably have some pamphlets by the door on their "company history" saying otherwise.

6: favorite line from this character

The panicked way he says "It's easy??!!?" in response to being asked what's good about toddler murder in Free Hat is utterly hysterical to me. Peak autism and peak anxiety - I probably would have done the same as a kid in that situation ngl

7: one way in which I relate to this character

I am an anxious little freak of a man who drinks too much coffee and seeks advice and reassurance from my partner - I feel like Tweek at least has an excuse given his parents usage of...concerning substances. Yeah, let's put it that way.

8: thing that gives me second-hand embarrassment about this character

I am an anxious little freak of a man who drinks toouch coffee and seeks advice and reassurance from my partner - but seriously, sometimes the little dude lacks confidence that just feels too real on a level when you strip back the comedic absurdity of the show he's in.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave

He's a cinnamon roll - he has his problems but he honestly seems to have infinitely purer intentions than any of the other kids in the show lmao

#south park #sp tweek #tweek tweak #sp creek #tweek x craig

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superblycaffeinated · 4 months ago

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Run Away With My Heart:

summary: The one where Zach & Cammie slip away at Rachel and Joe's Wedding | NSFW - this is 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI please | CW: alcohol mention/ "underage" alcohol consumption

A/N: thank you so much for your patience, I hope you love this 💙 it's a smidge on the poetic illusions to sex and not like, full on descriptions, but def still NSFW. The characters in this are over 18.

Also, like, this song is not "sexy" but it is ABSOLUTELY my Zammie song, my OTP forever and ever - for your listening pleasure (seriously, listen to it): Wherever You Will Go by The Calling

Cammie Morgan / Zach Goode

I’ve seen Zach Goode in almost every way a person can see another person.

In casual clothes with deep enough pockets for contraband m&m’s to offer to a subject he’s tailing without her knowledge. In starched and unfamiliar uniforms, pressed and ironed and the perfect cover, allowing him to be aloof, sarcastic, curious, and though he’d never admit it, a little jealous of a normal boy in a normal town. Or with taped knuckles and sweat slick skin, telling me I’m pretty good, Gallagher Girl. I’ve seen him even further dressed down, in nothing but a towel, or barefoot in blue jeans - cooking bacon, shirtless.

Even in ways you don’t see with your eyes, I’ve seen Zach. I see him in the same way he sees me. Like I’m being seen, really seen, for the first time every time he looks at me. Every time we know what the other is thinking and we don’t have to say it. The understanding in our gazes on one another, whether we’re feeling pain, heartbreak, loneliness, joy - it doesn’t matter.

I’ve seen the way he looks at me, right before he’s going to kiss me. The way his green eyes always look at my lips, then my eyes when he’s thinking about it. I’ve seen the way his tongue swipes over his top lip, like he’s thinking, like he’s analyzing his next move, and I’m it.

And no one can blame me for seeing these things, or noticing these things, because, well, I’m a spy.

Which, coincidentally, is the way I’m used to seeing Zach when he’s dressed like this. And while Zach Goode is always a spy, he seems to especially be one when he’s wearing a tuxedo.

Zach stands next to Joe Solomon, both men looking at the room with the eyes of operatives and seeing more than most, probably. Joe leans down and says something to him imperceptible due to his minimal lip movements and the bodies gliding across the floor between me and them.

I frown when Zach smirks.

When you see Zach Goode smirking, you’re probably already in trouble.

“I hate it when they do this,” a thick British accent floats and glides like music notes next to my left, accompanied with a sigh.

Bex’s dark skin glows in the light of a pink and tangerine July sunset spilling in through the open tents. Only even more complimented by the hue of the dress Macey carefully selected that hugs and falls over her curves in a way it simply never could on me. She smiles, apples of her cheeks dewy and eyes sparkly as she sips out of a crystal glass that costs more than I can fathom, bubbles bouncing and shimmering in the flute as she sips.

“Do what?” I steal the glass from her and take a sip myself, rolling my eyes at the eyebrow raise it grants me.

She nods her head towards the two I’d just been staring at. “Look like that. Handsome,” she starts pointing around the bustling room, suited and tuxed man after man, “Every last one of them more attractive in their bloody dress clothes than the last. It’s foul, and unholy, and should be ille-“

“How many glasses of this have you had?”

She waves a dismissive hand and takes it back, mumbling into the lip of the glass, “A few.”

Which is when the champagne is plucked from her fingers, held up to ruby lips that smack together, satisfied, after drinking down the rest in three gulps.

“Thank you for the drink, Rebecca.”

My Aunt Abby smiles at Bex’s frown.

“I am allowed to drink, you know. I’m nineteen.”

“In London,” my Aunt clarifies.

“Pretty sure I’m nineteen everywhere…” Bex muses.

“Don’t be cute.” Abby waggles her finger.

Bex takes a big breath, and Aunt Abby has that look in her eyes and I know that they will literally go all night, so I interrupt.

“Speaking of cute,” I smile at Aunt Abby, “You and Agent Townsend seem pretty smitten tonight.”

Aunt Abby sighs dramatically, but it’s much more wistful and dreamy than the one Bex gave earlier. Her waves curled hours before still shiny and bouncing as she smiles at the man now standing with Zach instead of Joe.

“He does look so handsome in a tux.” She tilts her head, freckled cheeks blushing when he looks up and smiles at her. When he looks away, Abby murmurs, so quietly I don’t think she even realizes she said it, “I’m gonna marry that man.”

Bex grabs two new champagne flutes as a tray passes, and hands one to me as Abby walks towards Townsend.

“Good lord, did she mean tonight?” Bex chokes on her sip.

“I…”

Aunt Abby glides across the dance floor, her sights set on her target, but she’s intercepted by a woman in a white gown spinning.

My mom’s laugh is louder than the music, smile brighter than the dress as she catches her sister’s hand and let’s go of her groom’s. She presses her forehead to Abby’s, giggling like girls far younger than they are while whispering.

It feels natural, to watch sisters interact and feel the need to knock my temple against my own. To clink our glasses together and be a little sappy.

“So,” Bex clears her throat, “CIA next month. Georgetown too.”

She isn’t asking a question, but I nod anyways, answering.

“I know loverboy over there is a great spy and all-“

“Loverboy?”

“You heard me.” Bex stands up straight and faces me, a soft smile on her lips as she shrugs. “If I can’t be the one backing you up, I’m glad it’s him, for what it’s worth.”

“Bex,” I start, unsure how to speak around whatever’s stuck in my throat. It’s not like this is goodbye. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.

So that’s what I tell her. “We’re going to see each other all the time. And talk on the phone and-“

“Oh I know,” she smiles, raising her eyebrows, “You’ll be calling me tomorrow to tell me all about tonight.”

“Tonight?”

She rolls her eyes in dramatic Bex fashion, “Cammie, my love, yes tonight is the night. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking he looks delicious and you’re starving or that he hasn’t been looking right back like he’s going to eat you.”

My cheeks are literally on fire as I hiss her name and she holds up her hand and interrupts.

“Chameleon, you know you shouldn’t lie when you’ve already been caught. Oh, speaking of yummy things, there is a snack over at the cake table that requires my attention, excuse me.”

She steals my drink and spins on her way to the table, the hiss of her name again lost as I take a step towards her and Agent Townsend approaches me.

Bex winks from her spot next to Macey at the cake table and I shake my head, plastering on a smile when I spin to face him.

“Ah, Miss Morgan, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Agent Townsend introduces me to yet another handsome man in a suit who has stories of my parents and high hopes for me and well wishes for my future at the CIA. I nod politely and listen as intently as I can until a hand is sweeping over my lower back, thumb brushing up and down along my spine.

“So sorry for the interruption,” his voice confidently comes from over my shoulder, deeper than normal, “But may I steal Cameron?”

I turn to see Zach holding a whiskey glass that I am ninety-eight percent sure is just coke. His eyes sparkle, no doubt from the chance to sound official using my full name as the man in the suit nods, sipping his actual whiskey.

“Of course, I’ve monopolized her for far too long, I’m sorry…” the man extends his hand to Zach as he trails off.

“Goode,” Zach’s voice gets even deeper, extending his hand and firmly shaking, “Zach Goode.”

Hard to contain my eyeroll on that one.

“Oh yes, Townsend was just raving about you as well. Excited what you two will get up to in August.”

The man points to both of us with a sly smile and heads off.

Zach’s arms wrap around my waist, spinning me unwillingly onto the dance floor.

“No!” I laugh, swatting at his chest, “Put me down, Zach! And where’d your coke go?”

He tilts his head and hooks a thumb at his chest, “Spy. And it was a Dr. Pepper, you’re slipping Miss Morgan.”

The last bit said in a perfect British accent.

Also, dang. I am slipping - but it’s Summer break, and…

Zach spins me slowly, it’s more of a sway in the middle of the dance floor as he whispers, “Where’d you go, Gallagher Girl?”

I smile, hands flat against his chest, “Just thinking that it’s Summer break, except it’s not a break. It’s just Summer. And the rest of our lives start next month and everything’s changing and I don’t know if I’m ready.”

The last part comes out quiet, barely a whisper, but I know he hears it, because his arm around my waist tightens.

He pulls at one of my hands, kissing my wrist before lacing his fingers with mine and holding it aloft, starting to move us around the dance floor.

My head falls against his chest, right in the perfect spot below his chin, so it’s easy for his voice to slip lower, so only I can hear it.

“It is Summer, that’s a fact, so you got me there. Personally, I’ve always been more of a winter guy myself, so I get it. It sucks.”

I laugh, forgetting I’m dancing until he spins me again, smiling at my eye roll before he’s bringing me back into his chest.

It deflates beneath my cheek from the long exhale, “Everything is changing, but change can be a good thing. Now, tell 16 year old Zach and he’d be arguing on your side, but I don’t know…this guy, dancing with you…he’s a pretty big fan of change.”

My nose presses to his chest, his hand squeezes my hip.

“And Cam, you’re more ready than anyone I know. And I’ll be with you, so that’s not changing.”

We stop dancing, and I look up at him, swallowing.

“And the rest of our lives starting next month?”

Zach smiles and shrugs. “I say, bring it on.”

His smile falls slightly, fingers catching a piece of my up-do and twirling it before he adds on, “Decided on if you’re dorming it up at Georgetown yet?”

I shake my head, “I haven’t, but I’m leaning towards no. With the hours and work I’ll need to do for Townsend, I don’t think I can swing it. Unless they find me someone with the same clearance…”

I tilt my head just as he did earlier, when he nods, his breath changing in a way that someone else might not notice, but I do.

Zach’s breath sucks in, his question after a rush of air out.

“Well, what if we lived together?”

We aren’t dancing anymore, just standing in the middle of the dance floor, bodies twirling and swaying around us.

“Wh-what?”

Zach smiles, my shock and surprise the confidence boost he needed. He grabs my hands and pulls me closer, “Come on Cam, this isn’t a surprise. You’re a spy.”

He twirls me and he keeps talking, his thumbs swiping over the back of my knuckles he’s staring at. “A spy who needs a roommate who gets her. One that’s excited for the rest of their lives to start. Together.”

A faster song starts then, so my heartbeat is masked slightly by the drum beat, but not completely as we stand still and I ask, “What are you excited about?”

Zach pulls me off of the dance floor, tugging me close to his side as he lists, “Excited to find shitty furniture we never sleep on cause we’re in Argentina, or Russia, or, I dunno, Egypt. Excited for when we do get to sit or sleep on that furniture we could show each other our favorite movies and music. Who knows, hand out Halloween candy to neighbors! On Sundays, we can have coffee and read books. We’ll have waffles for dinner every night because we can. So yeah,” Zach sighs, his nose and forehead against mine as we come to a stop. “When I hear the rest of our lives start next month, I say: Bring it on.”

I’ve kissed Zach Goode in a lot of public places, in front of all sorts of people.

But never after he said something like that.

Our lips slot together like magnets that can’t help what’s in their nature, and the only reason they’re separated is because of some outside force pulling them apart, like needing to breathe.

There’s a couple whistles when we break apart and Zach smirks and I frown and I tug on his neck, keeping his forehead pressed to mine as I beg,

“Can we please get out of here?”

“God,” he laughs, kissing my cheek, “Thought you’d never ask.”

We slip outside, my heels and his fancy shoes sinking into soft grass until I’m laughing and telling him to stop, that my heel is stuck.

So he’s picking me up and leaving my shoes there and placing me in the passenger seat of a car I don’t recognize.

Breathless, but not because he’s out of shape, as he holds up an old hotel key with a smile when he gets into the driver’s side.

“Well that was presumptuous of you.”

Zach is not calm, cool, or collected at my statement. His cheeks flush and so does his neck and he shakes his head, waving his hands. “Wait, no, we don’t have to-“

My lips easily interrupt him and he eagerly matches their movement, kissing him like I haven’t before. Kissing him like I’m ready for next month, for all the change, because he’s going to be at my side. I kiss him until I can’t possibly not breathe anymore and he tries to follow my lips as they leave his.

“Zach.” I smile at his blinking eyes, his dazed expression.

“Yeah?”

“Bring it on.”

***

It’s a hasty drive into Roseville, and an even hastier check in. Full of clammy hands and movements anyone who trained us would be yelling about nerves and getting sloppy. All giggles and stolen kisses on elevators that he whispers into my mouth about how cute I was the first time we met.

How he wishes he could go back and tell that Zach to press the emergency stop button so he had more time with me before I hated him.

And then we’re in the room.

The door closes slowly behind me with a soft click, there’s nothing in our way. Just us and a dimly lit space and tension so thick I get why they say it can be cut with a knife.

Zach swallows as he takes a step towards me, then another, until his hand is cupping my jaw and he’s looking at my mouth then my eyes.

His tongue swipes over his lip and I can’t help but smile, which makes him pause his leaning.

“What?”

I shake my head, fingers playing with the lapels of his jacket.

“Nothing.”

He raises his eyebrows at me as if to say “Really?”

His thumb swipes over my cheek, tilting my head so I have to look at his unrelenting stare until I’m too hot under it.

“You just…do something every time you’re about to kiss me,” I admit quietly.

Zach blinks, lips twitching up on one side.

“Yeah?” He asks it quietly, smugly, like I’m the one with the tell and not him.

“Mhm,” I sigh as his hand travels to the back of my head, cradling it and gently directing me.

Zach kisses the corner of my lips softly, then my jaw. Hot open mouthed things that have me curling my fingers into his collar, have my breath coming a little sharper.

When he reaches my neck, he drags his mouth down my throat, pulling out a noise I didn’t know I could make through my parting lips as his fingers tighten on the back of my neck.

He speaks into my skin as he backs me up towards the door, “You have a tell too, Cam.”

“Wh-what?” My hands fall, pressing to the wood behind me.

Zach hums into my shoulder, placing a kiss next to my strap before murmuring, “You bite your lip when you want me to kiss you.”

And if my bottom lip was between my teeth as he said it, at least he didn’t see it.

“Like right now.”

His thumb catches the lip when I try to release it quickly, his eyes glinting as he faces me again. The pad of it drags down my lip, and he watches it as it pops back into place. He swallows, and blows out his breath through his nose.

“Nice try,” he rasps, one hand on the back of my neck and other still holding my jaw. His body presses closer to mine and I reach for his waist on instinct. The tip of his nose bumps mine, lips brushing together in light passes as he whispers, “And just in case I don’t do my tell, I’m gonna kiss you now.”

I’ve had a lot of kisses with Zach.

Dramatic, cinematic, dip-in-the-foyer-and-deliver-a-cheesy-line kind of kissing. Angry kissing, where we’re both mad, and hurt, and let’s be honest just scared, so it’s fast and passionate and a little mean. Reassuring kisses, that have just as much passion behind them, but softer, sweeter. We’ve shared the I love you, overjoyed kind of kissing where it’s not so much a kiss as it’s two smiles pushed up against each other, teeth bumping and not sexy at all. And then there’s the sort of lazy, effortless, we don’t have to be anywhere and hey we’re alone for what could be minutes or hours and just-

Well, we’ve made out.

A lot.

Which I’m not going to explain myself for because I feel like it is every couple’s right to make out in general, and it’s not like Zach is the first guy I’ve done so with.

He’s the second.

But, despite minimal…experience… we’ve gotten pretty good at it, I like to think. It’s been fun to learn I like him pulling my lip and he likes me tugging on his hair just a little bit. It’s been interesting to find out when either of us is becoming one with couch cushions with the other draped across them, we both tend to pull out a spontaneous move from P&E and get the upper hand once more. And to put it bluntly, it’s been hot, to kiss and kiss and kiss some more and be in various states of half undress and have matching heaving breaths as we say we should slow down, because well, I didn’t want to have sex in a hay bale on a farm and he didn’t want to in a car and we haven’t exactly been alone long enough to speed it up if you catch my drift. So that lead to understanding kisses. Kisses that captured sighs and conveyed promises.

There’s been a lot of that kind of kissing lately.

But never kissing like this.

Never with Zach in a tux and me in a dress like this. Never pressed up against a door that no one else has the key to. Never in a room, alone, with the promise of no interruptions until we say so.

My lips follow his lead, like that dance all those years ago. Like the one tonight.

Slow, and patient, but eager. Tongue slipping over mine until I’m sighing and tugging at his waist, needing him closer.

His hands slip down my neck, my shoulders, following the curve of my chest and resting at my ribs while mine climb higher, bumping over buttons of the white button down on their way up. Zach breathes harshly against my mouth, my name quiet and full of gravel as it’s whispered into my lips like a secret, before he’s tugging on my bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it.

My hands are in his hair now, a whine bubbling out my chest when he lifts me just so and with too much ease against the door, so his knee can rest between my spread thighs. His breath hitches when I roll my hips, tugging him closer as I do.

Zach breaks the kissing that turned frantic, both of us taking large gulps of air. His nose traces down mine, green eyes almost black under fluttering lids as he asks, “You sure about this Gallagher Girl?”

I nod and press my lips to his softly, tenderly, making sure he knows all those promises weren’t just words. His fingers curl into the fabric at my waist, his sigh warm against my cheek when he exhales from his nose.

“Need to hear-“ Zach’s breath is shaky, eyes squeezed closed as I roll my hips against his thigh again, needing more. “Need to hear you say what you want.”

My fingers fiddle with the curls behind his ears, heart thundering and make it hard to hear myself in my own.

“You, Zach. I want you. All of you,” his eyes open at my rush of admittance, and the way they shine makes that much more spill out of some deep vault I’ve been keeping it all locked up in, “All of you and all of it. The waffles and the movies and the reading and books and I want this. Now, Zach, please.”

“Shit,” it slips out as a whine, some sort of desperate, raw sound that I’m not sure I heard and I’m not sure he knows he made. It matches his actions though, lips crashing into mine, filthy and eager - greedy. Kissing that feels like it’s sole purpose is to swallow me whole and leave not even a crumb of who I used to be without him.

It’s kissing that I’ve only seen in movies, his hands on my hips and rucking my dress up as his mouth moves against mine hungry, searching. Parted and pushing and pulling precisely, spit slicked lips panting his name in protest when he gasps for a breath he can’t help but need to take.

“Wait.” Kissing stopped abruptly as he squeezes at my waist. Slippery fabric of my dress dragging with his hands as they roam higher again, his head tilted up as he gasps.

I kiss over his jaw, down his throat as I whine, “We’ve waited so long.”

He lowers me slowly, dress falling back around my thighs as his palms press flat to the door on either side of me. He closes his eyes, forehead knocking against mine as he takes deep, even breaths.

“Zach?” I whisper, my fingers tugging on each other, scared of how quiet he is. “We don’t have to-“

His lips interrupt me easily, though slowly. Much slower than how we were just kissing, much more patient and purposeful. His hand cups my jaw again, tenderly brushing over my cheek as his lips hold my top one between his until I’m sighing and pliant against the door.

Zach’s breath out is mine in as we part and he steals another kiss, chaste and delicate.

“I want you too, and this, for the record,” he speaks slowly, eyes tracking over all of my features like he’s memorizing them. My cheeks warm and getting warmer under his thumb that’s still brushing it as he smirks, “And yeah, we’ve waited a long time. Which is why, we can wait a little longer.”

“Oh,” I nod, eyes on the floor and trying to remember every single thing I’ve ever learned about keeping a straight face. “Right, well, um-“

“No, shit,” Zach laughs, knocking his forehead to mine again, nose gentle against the bridge of mine, “I just meant I’m gonna take my time is all. Wanna take my time, that okay?”

Zach’s staring at me, his cheeks just as pink as mine, lips a little redder and swollen and he’s clearing his throat like something’s stuck in it when I nod.

“Yeah,” I murmur, “Yeah, that’s okay. More than okay.”

It’s so okay and the word okay feels like not an okay one at all to describe what it feels like to hear Zach Goode wants to take his time with me. With this. So completely okay that an operative who’s used to split second decisions and trusting his gut and never knowing when he’ll get to stop running, wants to slow down for this.

“Cool.” Zach smiles.

“Cool…” it trails off in a laugh when he groans at my repetition.

“God, I thought I’d be so much smoother than this…stupid tux making me think I’m James Bond…”

“Well,” my fingers play with the top button of his shirt, “Why don’t we start there?”

Zach nods, slow, his adams apple bobbing with a swallow as my fingers push at his jacket.

It drops to the ground as he kicks off his shoes and I do the same to mine.

Zach’s lips are on mine again, zinging and zapping and making something inside my stomach flutter to life as I fumble with the buttons down his shirt. It’s not gasps for air between frantic kissing anymore, but deep sighs, content, longing, as hands linger on skin revealed until he’s standing in front of me in just his boxers and I’m still in my dress.

Somewhere along the way, Zach stopped being that boy in an elevator and became a man. His jaw more angled and his hair darker. The muscles of his arms, chest and stomach all highlighted in gold lamp light and shadows as he steps towards me again. His lips lift, lopsided, and in a signature smirk.

“See something you like?”

The smug phrase isn’t so cocky, with the softened eyes and the quiet tone and the hands gently turning me to face the bed and away from him.

Zach’s breath is warm on my neck, then his lips soft against my shoulder and making me jump and pebbling my skin with goosebumps. A shiver rattles my ribcage as his fingers slip my dress straps down my shoulders.

His lips skim across skin, trailing to my spine as his hands squeeze my hips.

Everything is amplified - the sound of our breath, the ticking of the clock on the nightstand, both of our heartbeats. Each pop of a button on the back of my dress quiet, yet a thunderous step closer to a ledge we’re about to leap off of.

Together.

The back of Zach’s fingers graze my spine with each undone button, his breath hitches in an unfamiliar pattern when he reaches the last one and hits lace.

The pads of his fingers glide back up the center of my back, all the way to my hair, where they pull pins and clips till my hair is falling around my shoulders and face.

At one point, I began to hold my dress up, close to my chest, and I don’t realize it till he’s stepping up behind me closer. Bare back to bare chest, his arm wrapping around mine, fingers laced together against the fabric.

Zach kisses my shoulder, brushing the newly undone hair to the side so he can continue up my neck, to just beneath my ear where he speaks into my skin.

“Ready Gallagher Girl?”

I spin to face him, to find blinking surprised eyes and hands raised in mid-action. I push down my underwear behind the dress, stepping out of them and then glance up at him.

“Ready, Blackthorne Boy.”

And then my dress is falling in a puddle at my feet, shimmering and cold compared to heated skin on full display for the first time.

I’ve seen Zach Goode in almost every way a person can see another person.

Never like this.

Never with an unwavering gaze. One that’s studying and memorizing, but cherishing - like I can see the wheels turning in his head trying to remember every detail because he’s worried he won’t get a chance to be here again. With a face that looks close to how someone looks when they worship, adore, love undeniably. A mouth that’s parted, but truly rendered speechless.

I’ve never seen him whisper, “You’re so beautiful Cam,” before stepping closer to me, with gentle hands that caress and trace over my skin in a way that feels an awful lot like the promises of our kissing. Never seen him swallow and trace my collarbones as I pushed at black elastic on his hips. Or pressed up against me, with nothing separating us anymore.

Before now, I’d never seen how he looks hovering over me, pressing me into soft sheets. Now, I know he gets a wrinkle between his brows when he’s asking if I’m okay, or that his jaw pulses when I arch my back and say his name like I’ve never said it before.

There’s too many new views of Zach to count now, too many that compete for my favorite. How he looks when my hands are in his hair and my legs are around his waist and I can’t really remember how to breathe as our bodies work together like they know how to more than we do. Or how his thumb catches my bottom lip from between my teeth, his other hand pressed to the mattress as he rolls his hips and leans down to capture my moan with his mouth. Or how he looks when I’m saying his name in an almost silent scream and his hands are pushing mine into the mattress and our hips are slowing at the same time. Maybe it’s when he’s holding me, fingers loop de looping on my bare shoulder and arm that’s draped over him, our legs tangled together with the sheets as both of our breathing becomes slower and slower.

But I think my favorite is how he looks right now, at the hotel breakfast.

His hair is a mess, his eyes are sleepy, but bright green as they look up at me.

He looks different.

I wonder if I look different too.

He smiles, waffle shoved in his cheek and I lean forward and swipe syrup from the corner of his lips with my thumb.

“Yeah, you owe me forty bucks.”

Zach and I blink as Bex slides next to me, Liz next to Zach, and Macey at the end of the table.

Liz blushes and whispers, “Guys I thought we weren’t-“

“I do not owe you anything, Baxter.” Macey stabs a strawberry.

“She me owes me forty bucks, I know it happened. Open your eyes and look at them.” Bex gestures to the two of us, the two who had just been minding their own business and enjoying their morning.

I sip my coffee unphased, Zach chokes on his.

Macey groans and Liz lets out a little squeal and Bex looks far too Bexish.

“Well, that’s my cue, so,” Zach stands and turns to leave, but then turns back around.

He leans over the table, looking down at me. He looks at my mouth, then my eyes.

I bite my lip.

He smiles.

He licks his lip.

I smile.

He kisses me gently, nose tapping mine as he backs away.

Zach clears his throat, “Ladies.”

And I thought maybe the wink he shot me over his shoulder was actually my favorite Zach, but it turns out, it’s the Zach that’s spilling coffee on himself as he turns around and runs straight into my mother and Joe.

I’ve seen sarcastic Zach, sad Zach, sexy Zach, sweaty Zach, swoon level off the charts Zach.

I’ve never seen a Zach so flustered by a simple question.

“And where’d you run off to last night?”

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fanfiction #cammie morgan #zachary goode #zammie #cw alcohol mention

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