#please please please feed us (knows the fic is finished but needs to print it out and eat the pages)

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Fic Rec Friday!

This week's fic rec is If The Universe Was Merciful by bloop_im_a_frog_now (@bloop-im-a-frog-now)

First of all, YES. Angsty and amazing in it. I am also SO looking forward to learning what the tag "Jellie is an Eldritch Being" means :eyes:

And! If i'm not mistaken, the second chapter is out today! YAY!

It's a very good read, very much recommend ^-^

[seriouslydidijustdothat]

Fanfiction & Permissions Master Post

Hi! Call me Seri 🙂 I mostly write Gen, big hurt/comfort (whump) enthusiast.

What's below: where to find me (including tumblr tags), WIPs, completed fics, permissions

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Twitter (the only thing I'll deadname) though I barely use it these days Bluesky AO3 ➡ note the two names Animefreak11 (anime/manga related) writehererightthere (everything else)

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WORKS IN PROGRESS

Title: Fallen King Fandom: The Uncanny Counter 🟣 Rated M, 60k, Gen, Shin Hyeok-u & So Mun, Shin Hyeok-u & Everyone 🟣 Enemies to friends, redemption, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, canon divergent from ep10 ⚠️ Graphic depictions of violence, canon-typical violence, blood & injury, please read full tags (it gets worse before it gets better) AO3 link Tumblr post (will be updated once finished)

Title: Liability Fandom: Naruto 🟣 Rated M, 64k, Gen, Hatake Kakashi & OFC, OFC & Everyone 🟣 Isekai, action/adventure, civilian OC, realistic, light angst ⚠️ Canon-typical violence, injuries, tags to be added AO3 link Tumblr post (will be updated once finished)

COMPLETE (🔒)

I've locked completed fics, if you don't have an AO3 account I have invites! Message me here or on Retrospring (link above).

Title: The Kid Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man 🟣 Rated G, 1.2k, Gen, minor or background relationships Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy AO3 link Tumblr post

Title: Missed Call Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS 🟣 Rated T, 11k, Gen, Min Yoongi & Everyone 🟣 Tumblr prompt, college AU, kidnapping, hurt/comfort, protective bangtan boys, OT7 friendship AO3 link Tumblr post

Title: Alone but For One Series: Roots of my Own (1/?) Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS 🟣 Rated M, 11k, Gen, Park Jimin & OFC 🟣 College AU, found family, mild hurt/comfort, magical realism/supernatural elements (ish), asexual character ⚠️ date rape drugs/roofies (nothing bad happens) AO3 link Tumblr post

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Thank you and happy reading! 💜

[bibliocratic]

Do you think you might ever follow up that forking paths fic chapter where the two jons talk? Like after our jon leaves, id love to hear your take on how younger jon reacts when martin gets back from (what he now knows, thanks to our jon explaining) that trip to visit his mom. How do you think that jon goes about approaching martin, bc its def clear that our jons words really stick with him

Anon, I loved your prompt, and I’ve thought about it often. 

No CWs apply. Set in an alternative series 2, pre JonMartin

This is related to a time-travel AU where both the ‘original universe’ Jon and Martin have visited alternative versions of the archives. There’s no major spoilers for that story, although if you’d like to have a read, it’s here. :)

Coat slumped onto its hanger by the front door. Keys jangling in a lumpen heap. He checks, then double checks the bolt lock, the latch, the door chain, and then toes a door wedge harshly in place for good measure.

Martin puts down his overnight bag, fat with clothes that need going in the wash.

A signal failure at Yeovil Junction, stretching a three-and-a-half-hour journey back from Devon by over an hour. There had been a motley gaggle of the rowdy and the drunk on the Victoria line, and they’d squawked and cheered at the inanity of nothing, their laughing getting louder. He had avoided eye contact, felt his headache building.

Back in his flat, he takes two paracetamol and sits down, feeling like the final pieces of a cliff-face, falling seaward.

A breath out. A breath in.

Sleep is slow to come, and he wakes more than once. Eventually, he just waits for his alarm to go off.

He can’t find an ironed shirt, so he wears a jacket to cover up the worst of the crinkles. He’s on time, but he still frets as he stands, compressed by strangers on the Tube.

The main office area is quiet when he comes in. Martin clicks on the light switch, with a heavy feeling of experiencing the entire weight of the upcoming week at once, then goes into the small staff room to make himself a tea.

Jon’s there when he gets back. Stood by his desk.

“Oh! Hi,” Martin says. The tea sloshes ominously as he jumps, but it doesn’t spill. “Didn’t - didn’t see you there.”

“Martin!” Jon says. Looking and sounding, rather unusually, like he’s slept more than his rationing of three or four hours nightly.  “You’re – you’re back. Good. That’s. That’s good.”

“Oh. Er. Yeah.” Martin puts his tea down on a coaster. Jon skitters back to give him space but he’s still close. The bags under his eyes lighter. “Back to the old, er, grindstone, I guess.”

Martin trails off weakly. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Jon’s company, but it’s early, and Martin hasn’t stored up reserves to be his friendliest just yet, nor to navigate whatever mood Jon might have been stewing in.  He’s half waiting for Jon to just tell him what work he wants him to be getting on with.

He wonders where Tim and Sasha are.

Jon, no better word for it, lingers. Weight shifted from one foot to another. He looks over Martin intently, and Martin’s face heats to think of what he probably sees; un-ironed shirt, scruffy shoes. He shaved this morning in a rush, and he’s likely missed a few bristles under his throat, down his jawline.

“How… How was your trip?”

“Um. Yeah. Ok,” Martin lies. “You know. Nice to get a few days away.”

Jon hums, opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it. Then: “I’m… I’m going to Costas.”

“Oh. Ok. That’s fine.”

“Would you like anything?”

Martin’s small smile bursts onto his face like breaking the surface of a wave, and he’s surprised, by how touched he feels at Jon’s gesture.

Jon reflects his expression for a moment with a similar smile, before it’s quickly schooled into blankness.  

“No. But thanks, Jon.”

“Ok.”

Jon makes no move to leave.

“Come with me?” he asks. He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs, the ring on his finger. “It’s not far, and… I would like you to. If you, er. If you want to.”

Martin nods, and doesn’t understand the relief on Jon’s face.

-

Jon’s pace is clipped, brisk with speed, and Martin hurries after him, feeling a little bit like a satellite orbiting a force of gravity. By the time they get to the café, it’s the dregs of the morning rush in a small queue that trails limply from the counter around past the coolers stocking juices and sandwiches. Martin offers to get them a table, but Jon makes some flat-footed excuse about needing help to carry the tray while he pretends to peer at the overhead menus with far greater attention than they necessarily deserve. So, Martin waits with him. Listening to the whistling rush of the steamer and the juddering grind of the large silver coffee machine behind the counter. One of the baristas shouts to get the attention of a customer wearing headphones.

Jon won’t hear a word for Martin paying, waving him off impatiently in a distracted, short way that is followed up by a pause, and then a deliberately politer comment about how Martin can get the next one. It’s such a seesaw of tones that Martin’s left a little at sea by it all. Mumbling a thank you, jumbled and lost with the way this morning is going, the buoy lines and anchor points shifted since he went away.

Jon’s face reads similar.

They sit down at a four-seater table, Martin insisting on being allowed to carry the tray, if only to give himself something to do. Jon makes a protracted faff of adding sugar to his tea, drip-feeding it milk until it reaches an acceptable shade while Martin’s fingertips prickle with heat as his hands make flood barriers around his own cup.

“What’s this about, Jon?” he finds it within himself to eventually blurt out.

Jon looks up from his cup. Glances away almost as fast. He manages to balance a fine line between guilty and defiant with only the set of his jaw.

Ah. It’s going to be one of those talks then.

Some sheltered, tentatively uncrumpling part of Martin had hoped that they were past this.

He might as well jump straight to it.

“If this is your idea of some… I dunno, public place where you feel you can accuse me of being a murderer again – ”

“What?! It’s – ”

“  – I know you’re going through a lot, I get it, I do,  a-a-and I am trying to understand – ”

“It’s not – ”

“ – I-I thought we were past this, I thought you trusted me, at least not to murder you in your sleep, for God’s sake – ”

“I… It’s not, Martin.” Jon’s hands are held up, palms outwards. “I promise. I. I trust you. It’s not about anything like that.”

Martin’s hands unclench slightly from around his teacup. Jon’s expression bares the singular marks of a man struggling between emotion and ingrained habit.

Finally, nearly glowering, he stares into his own tea, rather than at Martin.

“Tim and Sasha will be here soon. I’ve texted them, told them to come here, not into the Archives.”

“What, why…?”

“There is every chance we may be overheard there, and – ”

“Not this again – ”

“Martin.” There is nothing harsh in Jon’s rebuke, for all it is phrased as a curt interruption. He huffs an irritated breath and meets Martin’s eye almost defiantly. It loosens into regret. “I know that I have… have not exactly given you much reason to take me on faith. And my behaviour these past… I suspect I owe you my apologies for a multitude of minor indignities that you have neither warranted nor deserved, and I am sure that if we had more time, we could both sit here listening my faults and failings to our mutual satisfaction. But the fact is that we don’t have time, and at the moment, my request for your patience and attention is far more important than my desire for your forgiveness.”

Jon’s sincerity is straight-forward, clean-edged.

“Tell me then,” Martin replies.

“Something happened, while you were visiting your mum.”

“How did you know I was – ?” Martin starts, but Jon waves a restless hand as though eager to move on to other matters, to which Martin’s temper rises because oh no you don’t, and he snaps: “Have you been following me?”

It was clearly not what Jon was expecting him to say. His face, scrunched up with impatience, slackens into a mild panic.

“No!” he says. “No, I. I haven’t. I swear, Martin, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you know about my mum?”

“I can explain, a-and I will. But let me finish, please?”

Martin nods. It is not fear that is starting to itch under his jacket, but it bears a family resemblance.

“We had a visitor,” Jon says. From his coat pocket, he pulls out two cassette tapes, like the ones they use for the difficult statements. “Two, actually. While you were away. We can listen to them both, later… and you should. You have a right to. They’re about you, a-and me – um, us. Tim and Sasha were here when the – er, the statement givers delivered them, and I’ve already filled them in on the supplementary information that we didn’t get on tape. I haven’t… I’m not asking you to trust me, or even believe me straight away, but there’s… Martin, there’s something dangerous at the Institute. Something that means all of us harm, and these tapes – ” He taps on them with a nail. “ – they’re a warning.  About what our future might entail. And I… I firmly believe that together, all of us, we can stop it.”

Jon winds down like an exhausted clock, and he slumps, his gaze dragged away from Martin’s as though he’s suddenly embarrassed by his outburst.

Martin lets out a long, billowing sigh.

“OK,” he says.

Jon looks up.

“Ok?”

“I don’t – I don’t even begin to understand what’s going on here. But I believe you. Though God knows why.”

Almost furtively, Jon’s face fractures into one of those small, surface-breaking smiles again.

“Thank you, Martin. I – I appreciate that.”

Martin’s blood vessels at that moment traitorously decide to flush his face with heat. He clears his throat.

“Right,” he says. “Right, so, these are the – the warnings, yeah?”

“I’ve brought headphones if you want to listen.”

“Which one should I…” Martin begins, but his voice sputters silent in his throat as he reads the labelling down the sides, printed in Jon’s aggressively neat hand.

Case #0160920: Statement of Martin Blackwood, for the attention of Jonathan Sims. Case #0160921: Statement of Jonathan Sims, for one Martin Blackwood.

“I didn’t record any – ”

“No. You didn’t.” Jon’s expression is steady if wary. “And neither did I.”

“S-so this statement here, that’s – that’s – and that means that your one there, that’s – ”

“Yes.”

“Fuck me.”

He meets Jon’s eyes. Lets out another, decidedly less steady breath.

Jon promised to explain. Jon promised answers.

And Martin can trust that right now. It’s easier, somehow, with Jon looking at him like he won’t let him get lost.

“This one first?” he says, pointing at the tape that another Martin Blackwood has made.

Jon nods, and passes Martin the headphones.

And in a coffee shop on the Southbank, Jon’s gaze not breaking from him, Martin listens to the story of how the world ends.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Birthday Wish

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s your birthday and all you want to do is spend a quiet day with Loki. Unfortunately, he’s decided to plan you a crazy party. Can you get your wish by the end of the night? Warnings: none A/N: It’s my birthday today (10/6), so I whipped up this quick little fic 🥳 I’ve been reflecting on everything like I usually do at this time of the year, and I just wanted to take a quick minute and say thank you to all the people who support me and read my stories. All the love I’ve been getting from you guys has made these past few months some of the best in my life! Please enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The blaring of your alarm clock woke you up for the third time that morning. You rolled over and hit the stop button this time, rather than the snooze, determined to get up. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you decided that you really ought to start going to bed at a reasonable hour. As your vision focused, you noticed a small box wrapped in white paper with multicolored happy birthday text printed on it. The neat green bow on top clued you in to who had left it before you even read the gift tag. You tore into the wrapping paper and opened the golden box inside, expecting a bracelet or some other piece of jewelry. Instead, you were greeted with a silver key.

“What are you up to, Loki,” you muttered, pinching the key between your thumb and forefinger.

Finding no clues on how to use your mysterious present, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. You eyed the shower for a minute, contemplating just splashing some water on yourself instead and calling it a day, before turning it on. You let the cold spray wake you up, turning your face towards the shower head. Once you felt alert enough, you changed the water to a more comfortable temperature. A part of you wanted to stay in here forever, or at least for the rest of the day, but that damned key had captured your interest. As you toweled off, you caught a whiff of your favorite shampoo, which you’d just lathered in your hair. Incidentally, it was Loki’s favorite too, and with any luck, he’d be smelling it later during some birthday snuggles.

After slipping on your coziest outfit, you walked out of your room and towards the kitchen. You could already smell the bacon sizzling and waffles being made. It caused an embarrassing grumble to sound from your stomach as you rounded the corner, but it was drowned out by your teammates shouting “happy birthday” in a boisterous cacophony.

“Happy Birthday, dove,” Loki whispered in your ear as he scooped you up in a hug, his godly strength making it easy to pick you up and spin you around.

“Thank you, Loki,” you giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You received hugs from the rest of the Avengers as someone slid a plate piled high with breakfast foods in front of you. This time last year you’d still just been an intern at SHIELD. It hadn’t taken long for Tony to notice your skills and offer you a job at Stark Industries, a position you’ve been glad to have gotten more and more every day. Now here you were, who knows how many field missions later, a part of the team and surrounded by a beautiful chosen family. Not to mention a very caring, raven-haired boyfriend who treated you like royalty.

“This is perfect, guys. Thank you,” you said, beaming at the group.

“This is nothing,” Tony responded. “Wait until your party later.”

“A party, huh?” you parroted, stuffing a forkful of fruit in your mouth so no one could see your frown. “Just us, right?”

“Nope,” Tony informed. “A bunch of your old coworkers from SHIELD, all the people who work in the Tower, owners of businesses we outsource to, and probably some other groups I’m missing. Don’t look so down, it’ll be fun. And the best part is Loki planned it,” he finished with a wink at the god.

“Oh?” you questioned, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be great then.”

You changed the topic before someone could comment on how shocked and disingenuous you sounded. Not only did that not seem like something Loki would do, it also meant he didn’t know you as well as you thought he did. You didn’t want to be ungrateful, but large parties just weren’t really your thing. You much preferred a quiet day with your friends. But if your boyfriend planned it, you were sure you would enjoy it. Maybe it was like a reverse surprise party or something, and they told you it would be a crazy party when it would actually just be a fun little movie night. Loki always has a trick up his sleeve, you knew, and you were sure that whatever it was, you’d enjoy it.

Sadly, your certainty was gone as you pulled on your jeans that evening. Giving yourself a once-over in the mirror, you decided that you looked ready for a party, though on the inside you were anything but. A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you went to open it, expecting Loki to be there to escort you. Instead, you were greeted with Wanda, Bucky, and Peter holding a plastic bag filled to the brim with neon props.

“Whatcha got there?” you asked your best friends, letting them into your room.

“Your accessories for the evening,” Wanda replied, placing a neon pink feather boa around your neck.

“You pick first!” Peter added, holding up two pairs of light-up shutter shades.

At least this part of your evening was fun. You’d been reduced to nothing but a laughing mess on the floor multiple times as you all figured out which accessories to wear. Finally, you ended up with the pink boa from Wanda, blue sunglasses Peter picked, a green fedora of your own choosing, and a bunch of glow stick bracelets that Bucky was amazed and obsessed with.

“We should probably get going,” you ventured, glancing at the clock. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Or we could just stay here,” Bucky offered. “I mean, do any of us really want to go?”

You all shifted your weight, seriously considering hiding in your room for the rest of the night. Deep down, you knew you would never actually do that, not after Loki put effort into planning it for you. Something about that still didn’t sit right with you, though.

“No. We should go.”

“Why? I mean, they invited so many random people that no one will notice if we’re not there.”

“Bucky,” Wanda hissed, throwing a pillow at his head. Sadly for her, his reflexes were too quick, and he caught it with a shrug of his shoulders. “People will notice if the guest of honor isn’t there.”

Before anyone could argue the point further, there was another knock, and this time it was Loki. He pecked your lips before taking in your goofy outfit.

“There you are, dove. I’ve been looking for you,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry, we were just on our way,” you told him, noticing a few glow bracelets on his wrist. You added it to your mental list of odd things to happen on your birthday. “Come on, guys.”

“Actually, if you do not want-”

“There you are,” Tony greeted as he appeared around the corner. “You’re missing the party of the century.”

“You didn’t need to send a whole committee,” Wanda said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out into the hall. “See, we’re halfway there already.”

Everyone crammed into the elevator, looking rather glum. Except for Tony, that is. He was blowing on a noisemaker as soon as the door opened. Not that you could hear it very well over the pounding music of the DJ.

“Uh, great party Mr. Loki,” Peter shouted over the noise, flashing a thumbs up before exiting the elevator with Wanda and Bucky.

“Yes, thank you spiderling,” Loki distractedly said, putting an arm out to stop you from leaving, too. “Dove, I’ve been trying to tell you all day-”

He was cut off once again by Tony, who was now at the front of the room and pointing towards you. There was a round of applause as he announced you as the special guest, and you awkwardly waved, feeling unsure of yourself in front of so many people. You were not exactly a social butterfly, and Loki knew that. You still couldn’t figure out why he had thrown you this party. And then there was the matter of that key from this morning. You patted the front pocket of your jeans to ensure it was still there. It was, but you had no idea how to use it. Maybe that’s what Loki’s been trying to tell you.

About half an hour later, he pulled you away, clearly too impatient to wait any longer to get his words out. You hadn’t even finished making the rounds, but then again you barely knew half the people there, anyway. They probably wouldn’t miss you, in that case. After all, it was more Tony’s party than yours. And that’s when it hit you.

“You didn’t actually plan that, did you?” you asked Loki as the elevator doors closed behind you.

“Took you long enough to figure it out, dove,” Loki said with a smirk. “But you are correct. It was Stark, not me.”

“But why did he give you the credit then?”

“He thought I did not know Midgardian birthday customs well enough,” Loki answered as his nose scrunched up in distaste. “ I suppose he thought he was doing me a favor. The one thing he forgot, though, is that I know you quite well.”

You exited onto the floor of the library and your boyfriend pulled you off to some hidden nook, proudly gesturing to a small key hole in the wall. You pulled out his present and looked at him inquisitively. One eager nod from Loki later, you were turning the key and greeted by a small clicking sound. A hidden door slid open and revealed a cozy room complete with your favorite foods, a couch laden with pillows and blankets, and a fire crackling in an ornate hearth.

“Loki!” you gasped, “It’s perfect, my love.”

“Only the best for you, dove.”

Then he brought you over to the cushions and, after making sure you were comfortable, began to hand feed you your favorite sweets. Once he was done with that, you snuggled into his side as he stroked your hair and placed a kiss to your temple. It was what you’d been longing for since you got out bed that morning.

“Happy Birthday,” he said to you later that evening after reading your favorite poems in that deep, melodic baritone of his voice.

“Thank you. This truly is everything I’ve ever wished for.”

“That is too bad. I have one more gift to give you, but if you are perfectly happy right now, perhaps you do not want it.”

“No,” you said, eyes wide with interest. “Now I have to know. Can I please have it, Loki?”

“Your wish is my command.”

Then he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, filled with passion and love that words would never be able to truly express. You melted in to him and reciprocated with just as much feeling. Now this, you thought, is one hell of a birthday gift. I really do have everything.

[illfoandillfie]

ok sorry but how many people do yall think rog has ever slept with cos i’m guessing four figures no lie

okay, i don’t normally respond to messages like this because, frankly, i dont really feel like its my place to speculate on roger’s sex life. Theres a difference between writing a fiction story with a character named after and inspired by him and discussing his actual personal life which i have no real knowledge about. What he gets up to in his free time is between him and the women he does it with. but i didn’t really feel able to ignore this one. please don’t take this as me telling you off or shutting you down or anything like that. If you want to speculate about roger’s body count thats up to you, go nuts with it. and i love when you guys message me and I don’t want to discourage you from feeling like you can talk to me or just send me your random thoughts or whatever about any subject. But I feel like I need to address why I disagree with this sentiment. Also so I can ask ya’ll to please stop asking me questions like this. 

So firstly, just to get this out of the way. 1000 is a lot. even 100 is a lot. I think if rog had slept with 1000+ people he’d have a least a few illegitimate kids and probably would have been checked into rehab for sex addiction (not to mention STIs and such because lbr people in the 70s specifically probs werent the most careful especially if drugs were involved). I mean even if we were going to say Rog got lucky with a different woman after every show we wouldn’t reach 1000. According to google, Queen played around 700 shows in their entire career. If we add shows played by The Cross thats only another 67 odd shows (according to wikipedia). 

now, i think there are 3 things that contribute to this idea of roger as especially promiscuous. 1. His attitude/demeanour/general way he sells himself. 2. the generally held conceptions about rock stars and rock star behaviour. and 3. what i’m going to call fandom dumbassery (but i mean that with a lot of love) 

So lets start with the man himself. Roger Taylor is loud and opinionated and not particularly humble. He knows he’s talented and attractive though for at least some time he was a little self-conscious about how feminine he looked. He’s always up for a laugh, likes to party and has admitted to enjoying his drink and his women. He’s had kids with two different women, who’s relationships “overlapped”, and is currently married to a third. At least that’s the perception we can gleam from his interviews, behind the scenes videos, and other public appearances. 

It’s easy to see how that image leads to accusations of being a womaniser and a cheater and basically a bit of a slut lmao. But here’s the thing. I think Roger, in part, markets himself that way. The thing is, if you look at his solo songs and the relationships he currently has with his kids and their mothers, and things other people have said about him/his relationships over the years, I think it’s fair to say he also has a bit of a romantic streak maybe? idk if thats the best way of describing it...he’s self confessed to not being a fan of marriage and the like but he’s not opposed to writing and singing love songs and seems to believe in ~love~ as a concept/power. He certainly cares deeply for those closest to him. Whether or not that translates to an agreement with monogamy I can’t say for certain. It’s hard to draw conclusions here because a lot of what we know of his personal life was fed to us through magazines and news paper gossip column articles and they were never looking for the truth, they were looking for scandal and sensationalism. 

For instance the whole thing with the overlapping relationships. I think most people who have read anything about roger and dom and debbie realise that it’s not as cut and dry as “he was cheating with debbie and left dom for her” even though that was the story being sold by the press at the time. The reality (or at least the version closer to reality since obviously no one outside of them and whoever they were closest with knows all the nitty gritty details) is that rog and dom had already split when they got married. it was a marriage of convenience to make sure her and the kids would be looked after financially etc even after he’d moved out. So while it looked to the public like he married one chick and 30 odd days later was spotted with another, there really wasn’t anything untoward happening.  I’m not saying he never had casual hookups or one night stands and i’m not saying he never cheated, but I do think some of it’s been exaggerated, whether by him to encourage the rock star perception or by newspaper/magazine articles.

Now, obviously, we have stories of rog, particularly in the late 60s and into the 70s, being with multiple women. There’s that bit in the Interview with a Queen “Groupie” (which is a fantastic read and i defs recommend checking it out if you havent already) where she talks about roger being a chick magnet and says that, at the time, it was pretty common to sleep about. But, she also says she didnt notice him doing it more or less than anyone else and seemed to mostly be with Jo (his girlfriend at the time). This is the same Jo that got a mention in the Queen in 3D book (”i think we all had the feeling that these two were together for life, but it was not to be”). Conversely, we have that quote (which i cannot find rn but i’ll link it when i do) about roger sometimes having one girl upstairs while another waited in the garage for them to be finished. I think it was about Rog in the mid-late 60s in Truro but whatever. Obviously he wasn’t anywhere near celibate and it’s likely was sleeping with people outside of his relationship(s). But one has to assume that as he got older those kinds of antics stopped happening, at least as frequently.

There is one potential story that I remember reading somewhere along the way about Roger cheating on Debbie while she was pregnant. But, take that with a grain of salt because I can’t find the article again and also I think it was from like The Sun or something equally as rubbish. The press was notoriously always printing mean shit about the boys and that might have been another thing they published to create scandal. Even so, if we assume it’s legit that is still only 1 story. Not to throw him under the bus but Brian is the one with multiple confirmed affairs, who literally wrote songs about it all. So why is Roger the one with sleazy reputation? 

This is where my second and third points come in. There is a pervasive idea about what it means to be a rock star. The whole trashing hotel rooms, sleeping with groupies, passing out drunk every night thing. And I’m sure that Queen was like that to an extent. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that all of them got up to shit on the road. Between innuendo laden interviews and songs, videos and accounts of their parties, stories CT has put online, and other stories like the one of Roger bringing out lines of coke as dessert when he was having dinner with motley crue. They definitely embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. And I think with Roger’s personality being what it is, it’s easy to link him to those traditional rock star tropes and say it was all true all the time. I also think Roger has done nothing to counter those beliefs. He’s been open about how he wanted to be a rock star since the minute he picked up a guitar, he’s labelled himself as a great lay in magazines, he’s joked about girls pulling their tits out over dinner in interviews (though he said he didnt take her home), he’s written songs like One Night Stand and Dirty Mind and Airheads which explicitly mention his preference for women and alcohol. I think it’s fair to say he’s kind of encouraged that view of himself. Whether it was just a side effect of being part of such a well known band and having such a boisterous demeanour/personality, or whether it was intentional as a version of promotion i don’t know. maybe a mix of them? I mean I’m sure it didn’t hurt sales and stuff. it’s the whole guys want to be him, girls want to be with him thing, right? Maybe that’s just me being cynical though lmao. 

Anyway, the fandom brain has taken all of that and compressed it into memes and jokes about rog being the band slut. Which i’m not complaining about, lord knows i’ve made the same jokes and reblogged the same posts and used those tropes in my fics. They’re funny and lend themselves to interesting fic concepts. Plus, i think roger is the sort of person who would probably laugh about most of it. But it’s an idea that keeps feeding into itself through fandom, perpetuating what is probably a misguided view of his personal life.

Again, I am sure he’s had his fair share of fun and I’m not trying to make out that he was always perfect or whatever, but I don’t think he’s been with as many women as the popular discourse would imply and I certainly don’t think he’s in the 4 digit numbers. 

[twiceblackvelvet]

Can i request a fluffy pregnancy fic with Wendy where she is due soon and reader tries to make her as comfortable as possible? Thank you!

A/N; just in case this gets lost due to differences with different countries ways of doing things, the pregnancy plan is based on how they work where i live and may not be the same where everyone else is from, and yes they ask if you would like the baby to be cleaned before handed to you. as i’ve done with a few things now, i left this open-ended in case i decide to continue it. thanks for the request!

Routine check-ups. The same drab four walls of the doctor’s office that make your already nervous body feel nauseous and uncomfortable. They really should liven this place up, it is for preparing people to bring new life after all.

Fortunately, none of your worries has yet to come true, as you grasp onto your girlfriend’s hand to reassure her, a small gratuitous smile forms on her lips. But, the nurse has been out of the room to get some results for quite some time now.

Your mind can’t help but go into overdrive until finally, the door opens gently.

“Everything seems to be fine Miss Son, your blood pressure is still stable. Please just get plenty of rest and drink a lot of fluids.”

A sigh escapes both of your bodies with the doctor’s reassurance that everything is fine. However, you know she isn’t finished yet as she tries to find something on the computer in front of you.

“Now, we will need to just do a final check of your birthing plan and then you’re free to go”

The nurse is a polite young woman, very thorough at her job. Hence why this is now the fifth time the two of you have had to explain the way in which your child will enter this world.

Before you can speak, Wendy has already begun rapidly firing off the same monologue she repeats every time.

“The birth will be in the hospital if things go to plan, my partner here will be with me and we’d like to request a birthing pool. We’ve discussed heart-monitoring, placenta and feeding post-birth. No movement, seated position with a cleaned-up baby. No pain relief.”

No matter how many times you hear her give this speech, it will never fail to amaze you. Despite her very showing body, this is what makes everything feel real.

“It all checks out with your previous requests, thank you. I’ll be here to see you next week for your final check and then we should hopefully have a little one with us after that. Now go on, you’re free to enjoy the rest of your day out of here.”

As you stand to leave, you grasp hold of one of Wendy’s arms to help her up out of her seat and link it around hers as you exit the drab looking room. 

“Do you want to get something to eat before we go home?”

A low sigh escapes her mouth as she nods enthusiastically with a slight pout.

“I’m so hungry.” She whines.

“Well then, we can’t be having that now can we little one?” You speak towards her stomach which makes her laugh lightly. “Let’s go, we can make it a final date before we have a third wheel.”

A light slap hits your shoulder but the smile on Wendy’s face is bright and full of love. She knows you’re just as excited if not more so than she is for the birth to be over with and for you to gain a new little best friend to no doubt annoy her like this with.

The two of you enter a quiet small restaurant and head towards a table placed next to an open window. The fresh air blowing gently outside stopping Wendy’s temperature from rising too high. Minutes later, a waitress approaches the table and immediately begins a conversation with your girlfriend about her bump. You can’t help but watch as her face lights up with a beautiful glow and her eyes sparkle full of pride.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” You ask once the waitress leaves to place your order.

A smile curves the corner of Wendy’s lips as she shyly places her head into her hands.

“Yes, several times. But it’s cute to hear it again.”

All you can think about is how you’d spend every day reminding her of it if she’d let you, but her face may burn to a crisp from the embarrassment and you can’t allow that. The two of you eat your meal in comfortable silence, Wendy occasionally reaching across the table to grasp your hand or to steal some of your food, which you allow without hesitation. 

Once you’re both finished you slowly make your way back towards the car and drive home with Wendy singing along to the radio playing songs the two of you haven’t heard in years.

“Do you think they can hear me?” She asks.

“Of course, though they may be confused as to why an angel is singing to them.”

She slaps your arm once more and bellows out a laugh that fills the entire car easily drowning out the music.

“I don’t know which of us is more cheesy lately.”

As you pull up the parking lot next to your home, you lean across to press a soft kiss to her cheek. 

“It’s still you.” 

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she exits the vehicle carefully. The ground is wet from rain so you help her up to the door with one arm around her waist and the other linked with her arm. 

“I’m not going to break into a million pieces if I walk without your help you know.” A pout once again gracing her lips.

“I know, but I like holding you like this. Come on, let’s get inside out of this cold weather.”

As soon as the two of you enter your shared home, she drops to the sofa lazily and switches on the television. The channel it was on prior to leaving the house for the appointment is currently showing a drama that Wendy has been particularly invested in. So, you take the seat beside her and cuddle up together to finish watching the current episode with one of your hands resting gently on her stomach. 

Subtle moments of domestic bliss such as this always cause a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. Being with Wendy has always felt like a blessing, but these last few months have strengthened your relationship to become something indescribable. You can’t help but feel like the luckiest person alive.

Once the show comes to an end, Wendy slowly rises from her seat with a little help from your hand on her back. 

“We still haven’t finished packing the bag for the birth, let’s get the last of the baby’s things put in so it’s ready.”

“I can do it, why don’t you go and take a nice long soak instead? I promise I won’t forget anything.” You reassure her and she slowly heads towards the bathroom whilst you enter the bedroom to finish off the last task remaining on her once seemingly endless list.

The number of sleepsuits already taking up space within your drawers is quite concerning but you just can’t help but buy them whenever you spot a cute one with a slogan or animals printed on them. You grab a yellow one with little paws on it and place it into the bag alongside bottles, booties, mittens, and blankets. 

As you’re finishing up packing the bag, you stop to look at the picture frame sitting atop of the dresser. It’s housing a picture of you and Wendy from when you first began dating. Whilst both of you are smiling wide in the photo, you can’t help but compare the two people in it to the two of you presently. Back then, you never could have imagined you’d be going through this experience or that you’d figure out the dorky girl who used corny pick-up lines would end up being the love of your life. Yet, here you both are and all of it has been a beautiful experience.

“Babe?” You hear Wendy call from the bathroom. 

“What is it? Do you need help?”

She suddenly waddles through the bedroom door with only a towel around her frame, face red likely from the heat of the bath. 

“Is the bag ready?” She asks in a hurried tone.

“Yeah, I just finished, why?”

“We’re going to need it, like… now. My waters have broke.”

[honey-bri-books]

Protect the Cast & Promote Kindness/Understanding!

It’s one thing to make art, write fic, post opinions, share feelings..

But some people in the fandom right now....!!!!!

Someone called Misha a racist, because he helped feed the homeless/needy or something, on Thanksgiving.

People are sharing the pic of a child actor who was in the finale to critique how “ugly” he is. It takes a true coward to call a child ugly, just because you can and you’re far away and live safely behind your computer screen (not necessarily YOU who’s reading, but you know what I mean?).

People are taking every word that Misha is saying and over-exaggerating his meaning/intent, especially with the “rogue translator” comment. People are determined to school Misha and correct him and be right and entitlement over this is out of hand.

People called Jensen homophobic when he didn’t tweet something after the love confession right away, but praised him to high heaven when his interview showing excitement for the ep came out, and when he tweeted thanks to the costume dept. and shared a pic of the hand print on Dean’s shirt. 

When Ruth shared love over Cas’ confession, she was bullied. 

Jim Beaver had to leave Twitter, because he knew it was getting to the point that he wouldn’t be able to hold back and didn’t want to poke at the coals, or whatever (my take? I’d need to review his FB post. I hear he said something offensive that generalized fans in a bad way, but I dunno).

A bunch of fans are getting to Misery-level obsession and it’s unhealthy. It’s getting to the point where I worry for the actors who worked on the show, and hope they stay safe and no one travels all the way to their homes to cause trouble. 

I know Covid stress (whether people know it or not) is playing a part in how bold people are online, right now. But the expectations some are holding the SPN actors to, are too unfair. I want it to stop, but don’t know what to say in order to help. Frustrations are valid and upset is understandable, but I worry people are getting used to thinking they’re entitled to helicopter parent the actors. I seriously worry that conventions will be permanently finished, or that actors will all stop replying to all fans and it’s not getting better. There’s more entitlement on twitter, every time I log on.

There is love out there and healthy discussion, but some people are acting like they’re arguing why Mommy should have let them buy that toy at the store or whatever. Please, I want these fans to be more understanding and leave the actors (especially Misha) alone!

I want people to be kinder. We are not perfect, but things are getting so mean, I don’t understand what’s even happening....  😢

[sentientencyclopedia]

Snapshots

I don’t usually post fics on here, but carpe diem and all that. This piece is for the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Fic Exchange. This drabble is based on requests by @sandylovesfandoms for the Peraltiago honeymoon after Holt left and waterslides/waterparks.

Jake got one whiff of the drink and wrinkled his nose. But Amy was looking at him eagerly, so he gave her a weak smile and brought the glass to his lips. For love he told himself, before chugging the orange mush.

“Bleeeurgh.” He turned around and spit it back into his cup. “That is disgusting.” He kept the glass under the table, knowing that it grossed Amy out whenever he regurgitated food. And if she actually liked this toxic sludge of a smoothie, well, he wasn’t going to deprive her of her bliss.

“It’s not that bad.” Amy looked perfectly happy as she sipped the orange drink. Jake had to admit it matched her sundress and the ribbon in her straw hat perfectly. “I think the papaya and cantaloupe perfectly balance each other out, and the coconut cream gives it a smooth texture.”

“It is disgusting.” He pulled out his phone. “But it matches your dress. Smile!”

“It’s delicious, and more importantly, it’s good for you.” Amy grinned and he snapped the pic. Oh yeah, this was definitely going into the honeymoon scrapbook. He had a sneaking suspicion Amy had planned the aesthetic, but whatever. “It’s full of antioxidants and important minerals.”

“No wonder it tastes so bad.” He grimaced.

“You can’t live on sugar and alcohol, Jake.” He took another picture as she rolled her eyes, fork dangling from her fingertips. It wasn’t scrapbook material, but it was cute.

“It’s our honeymoon. It’s supposed to be magical. We can do whatever we want.” He stole a mango slice from her plate and got up to walk back to the smoothie bar. “Two virgin pina coladas, please.”

“There’s pineapple juice at the buffet.” The bartender stared at him.

“I know. Don’t forget the little umbrellas, please and thank you!” He gave the man a beaming smile and leaned against the counter.

The man was apparently used to unreasonable requests from vacationing tourists, because he tossed a few pineapple chunks and a cup of coconut milk into the blender, set it to spin and wordlessly poured the mixture out into cocktail glasses. With little umbrellas. “Thank you!” Jake took the drinks back to their table triumphantly, pausing to grab a few of the brightly colored straws at the buffet table.

“This is also fruity and coconutty and best of all, it doesn’t taste like the mutagen that made the Ninja Turtles.” He set the drinks on the table and placed two straws in his mouth, long sides sticking out.

“Does this make me look more like a vampire or a walrus?” He asked, pointing.

“Gee, it depends. Which one has purple teeth, again?” She gave Jake a teasing smile and took a picture of him making funny faces at the camera.

“Say what you want, Ames, but this is going to make drink consumption a lot more effective.” He stuck the bottom of one straw in each glass and drank from both at the same time. “Ta-da!”

“That’s good. According to my itinerary, we have five more minutes for breakfast if we want to make it to the next event on time.”

“You’re so organized, babe.” Jake grinned at her as she showed him the binder. “How did you manage to get all these sheets laminated?”

“I convinced the people in the printing center to let me use their office laminator.” Amy’s expression mirrored his, though her smile was tinged with pride. “I figured they needed to have one on site for all the signs and menus and stuff, of course.”

“Of course. Hey, what’s this blue marker for?” He reached for the sticker only to have Amy swat his hand away.

“That’s a surprise.”

“Like a Holly Genero costume kind of surprise or an open ice cream bar kind of surprise?”

“It’s better than an ice cream bar.”

“Hate to break it to you, Ames, but there are few things better than an open ice cream bar. Especially the kind with unlimited toppings.” It turned out that when Captain Holt had extended their stay, he’d also tacked on a few perks as a sort of extended apology.

One of those perks had been access to an open ice cream bar, with unlimited toppings. Jake and Amy had spent a solid hour building and eating the Biggest Behemoth Sundae in The History of The World.

At least, that’s what they’d captioned it when they sent a picture of the monstrosity to their friends back home. It had been a towering mass seven different flavors, coated in liberal amounts of sprinkles and candy with a cookie base. It had been delicious.

Remembering that inspired Jake with new ideas. “Do you think they’ll give me ice cream for breakfast if I asked?”

“Well, they probably would, but we had ice cream last night. Don’t you want to see what I’ve got planned for today?”

“Depends. What have you got planned?”

“So, I rescheduled the sensual feeding workshop because both of us agreed that we wanted to re-do that without Holt watching.”

“I still don’t think I can make eye contact with him ever again after what happened with the avocado.”

“Oh, yeah.” They shared a moment of silence for Jake’s dignity. “But this is our chance to make new, better memories.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He took a long sip of the pineapple juice.

“Then we’ve got a couples’ ballroom class.”

“Fancy.”

“I thought it would be a nice throwback to that case we worked.”

“The one where you were in the shiny mermaid dress?”

“Precisely. In case we ever need to go undercover like that again, I thought it would be good if we actually knew how to dance. Plus,” She gave him an arch look. “I really want to see you in that waistcoat again.”

“The what-now?”

“You know, that vest-thing you wore over your button-down when you were dressed as Dewey? I watched a lot of historical documentaries as a kid and I was really into the whole men-in-fitted-waistcoats look.” She smirked. “You weren’t the only one who got an eyeful at that dance competition.”

“I’ll file that away for future consideration.” Jake whispered, imagination running wild.

“Then we have a lunch, then beach time, then just one thing before dinner.”

“The surprise, you mean.”

“Mhm. Now hurry up and finish eating. Don’t want to be late for our second impressions.”

“Ay-ay, Captain.”

They had a great time at each of the different workshops and events, but Jake couldn’t stop thinking about the blue marker. He was itching to know what it meant, what the surprise would be.

Jake Peralta was many things. Patient was rarely one of them.

So he was practically twitching with excitement by the time the blue-marker event rolled around. They were in swimsuits, so it had to be something to do with water. He hoped it wasn’t water-aerobics.

Amy grinned as she pulled Jake through the archway. “Surprise!”

“Oh. My. God.” Jake’s eyes lit up as he took in the glorious sight in front of him. “Is that a waterslide?” The pool area was practically empty, inhabited only by two lifeguards and a few straggling swimmers. But there, framed in the orange glow of the setting sun, was a very long, very twisty waterslide.

“Surprise!” Amy said again, throwing her arms out. “I made sure to pick the time where we would be mostly uninterrupted. All the families are probably at the live band sing-along thing, and all the adults without children are probably at the beach luau. Which is totally capitalist cultural appropriation, and not even geographically accurate, so I thought it would be fine if we skipped it.”

“Good idea. Where did you even find this?” Jake didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling.

“It was in the resort brochure, Jake.” Amy was rolling her eyes, but not in the tired, I’m-disappointed-by-your-immaturity way. She was rolling her eyes in the I’m-trying-to-be-cool-but-also-fishing-for-compliments way.

Jake was good at compliments. “God, I love that you read the resort brochures. That you plan itineraries with all sorts of weird fun stuff like sensual food arranging classes and cool fun stuff like waterslides. I really want to kiss you right now.”

Amy put her arms around him and they kissed. It was a quick, happy one. Both of them were so excited that it was mostly teeth. “Ooh. Can we do that couple-y thing where one of us sits on the other person’s lap and we go down together?” Jake asked.

“Yes!”

“Is it weird that I just wished Charles’ was here to take a picture of us on our way down?”

“Weirdly enough, I had the same thought.”

“We’re definitely too used to him being around.”

“Yeah.” They both went quiet for a second, thinking about it.

“Waterslide time!” Amy decided to break the silence. They held hands and very safely walked over to the ladder.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch17

This was meant to be a fic about Gordon but as I get further through the timeline the other brothers start waving more and pointing out that they are an important part of this and should be considered too.  Alan has been feeling a bit left out and wants some attention.

Thanks to @willow-salix for her amazing editorial skills and ‘quick chats’ that are somehow never very quick.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, 

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Seventeen

If Gordon’s journey out to Marineville for officer selection had been different to his first visit to the base it was nothing compared to the contrast of the journey home.  This time his journey north had needed no furtive sneaking off, no cover stories and no lies.  There had still been plenty of butterflies in anticipation of the trials ahead but he had faced those trials with the blessing and support of his family.  His father had even travelled to the airport with him rather than entrusting him solely to a driver.  

The journey south, however, was accompanied by butterflies an order of magnitude greater.  

As he exited Marineville to board the bus back to the airport it was impossible to miss the imposing hire car in the visitors’ parking lot or the even more imposing man stood next to it.  So far he had managed to maintain a level of anonymity but as he left the cluster of participants he was acutely aware of the whisperings behind him.  He ignored the mutterings and strode over to his father, his head held high, it didn’t matter if they worked out who he was now, he knew he had earned his place on his own merits.

“So Gordon, how did it go?”  There was still that look of pre-emptive sternness, as though Jeff was waiting to receive another mediocre report card.

Gordon couldn’t stop the grin that flashed across his face or the air of cocky smugness, he was riding the wave of success again and it felt good.  “Aced it.  The standard was a lot higher and only about a third of us got through but when the next intake comes around you are looking at the newest recruit to WASP.”

The sternness dropped away and was replaced by the look of pride Gordon had seen directed at his brothers far more than himself.  “Good, son.  You can tell me about it on the journey home.”

As they headed away from the base Gordon recounted the tests and challenges he had faced.  For Jeff it was like having a much younger Gordon back, the one who had regaled him with tales of race wins and given blow by blow accounts of dives, turns and sprint finishes.  His fourth son spoke freely and animatedly in a way he hadn’t heard for years and Jeff realised just how much of his sons’ lives, all of them, he had missed out on by burying himself in his work and leaving the boys to fend for themselves.  He was trying to be more involved again, to listen to them, but his sons had gotten used to existing without him around.  All too often he’d come in to hear Gordon ending a call to one of the others, usually Virgil, or arrive home just as Alan was finishing telling Gordon about his day.  He rarely got to hear their news now and was almost never the first to be told; it didn’t make it any easier knowing this was a situation of his own making.   

Jeff drove them, not to the main Marineville airport, but to a much smaller private air strip just out of town.  As they turned off the route being followed by the shuttle bus Gordon kicked himself for not realising sooner that they wouldn’t be on the regular flight.  Of course they wouldn’t, his father hadn’t taken a scheduled flight in years.

As they entered the cockpit of the jet Jeff slipped into the co-pilot’s position leaving the main pilot’s seat for Gordon.  It had been an intensive few months going from minimal experience at the controls through to being able to take charge of the family jet.  His swimming training had always prevented him from experiencing this part of the family education before but now his time in the skies had him thrown in at the metaphorical deep end in the race to get qualified before starting WASP training.   Scott of course had gained his private licence on his seventeenth birthday, desperate to achieve official recognition at the earliest possible moment, and Virgil and John hadn’t been much older than the official minimum themselves.  Gordon’s dedication had been tested as he crammed in what the others had spent years learning gradually.  

This was where the butterflies came in.

He still wasn’t yet able to fly unaccompanied but he was getting closer.  Today though it seemed he was to be tested to a whole new level.  A two hour flight down the coast, taking off from an unfamiliar runway, was a jump up from the short flights he had taken until now.  To make that leap while utterly exhausted following a gruelling three day selection course was perhaps a step too far.

He looked to his father for confirmation that this really was what was expected of him and received only a silent nod in return but if there was one element of being a Tracy that Gordon had truly mastered it was not backing down from a challenge.  He pushed the tiredness away, buried the self-doubt with it, and with Jeff next to him scrutinising his every move he requested permission from the tower and taxied out onto the runway.

Jeff stayed silent as Gordon completed the maneuver.  He watched the precise and controlled movements his son made, finding little to pick fault with despite watching with a highly critical eye.  He knew Gordon must be desperate for his bed, the dark bags under his eyes a testament to what his body had been subjected to, but he needed to be sure his son would be capable of rising to a challenge.  Now that he knew Gordon had been accepted into WASP and would receive rigorous training on all manner of submersibles his son changed status from dependent child to potential rescue operative.  

He had already started considering the possibilities of expanding the scope of his organisation to include water rescues, indeed he already had the first concept sketches for a submarine, but for that to become a reality he needed an aquanaut.  Being accepted into WASP was a start but until Gordon held both his pilot's licenses, for both up in the sky and under the waves, Jeff wasn’t yet ready to consider his fourth son as a full part of his vision and so for now he was content to watch, and wait, and plan, leaving Gordon ignorant of his ideas.

xoxoxox

Barely a week after the selection course the letter arrived confirming what Gordon had already been told at the end of the trials, that he would be joining the next officer training intake.  Even though the contents of the letter were no surprise it was still reassuring to see it in black and white, indisputable proof that WASP had confidence in him and that his future path was set.  

“So, when do you start?” Jeff asked across the dinner table.

“Huh?”  Gordon snapped his head up in surprise, he had been oblivious to the room around him as he read the letter through several times, drinking in the validation it gave him while butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of actually going off and doing it.  “Oh, um, beginning of July, then it’s…”

He didn’t get any further.  The scrape of chair and the clatter of discarded cutlery cut him off as Alan flew from the room and disappeared down the hallway, the slam of a bedroom door confirming where he had gone to ground.  Jeff sighed and half rose from the table, his expression showing anger at the rudeness of the departed teen, but Gordon waved him down. 

“No, I’ll deal with this.”  

Gordon had been sensing the impending storm ever since he got back from Marineville.  Amongst the congratulations of the family one voice had been noticeably absent and it seemed that the official confirmation letter was all that had been needed to bring it to a head.  The last thing he needed was for their father to make a difficult situation worse by laying down the law.

Alan’s room was the typical teenage mess.  Clothes lay discarded on the floor and various electronics were piled on surfaces next to empty water glasses but in amongst all the mess it was clear where his passions lay.  It was like wandering into an untidier version of John’s room.  Star maps adorned the walls and there was a model rocket that Gordon had every confidence could make it into space if that was how Alan had designed it.  The difference between this room and the usually unoccupied one next door, apart from the mess, were the newspaper cuttings, article print outs and piles of Olympic memorabilia that vied for space with the astronomical paraphernalia.  Dotted around the room was evidence of a devotion to Gordon and the swimmer was sure you could piece together the story of his sporting career if only you took the time to collate the collection. 

“Alan…”

“Leave me alone, it’s what you’re going to do anyway.”  The voice was muffled, smothered by the pillow in which Alan was buried face down.

“Alan, please, talk to me.”  Gordon picked his way carefully across the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to the sprawled figure.  The only answer he got was a choked sob and he felt a wave of guilt at the upset his brother was feeling.

“I hate it here.  I hate it.  I hate it.”  Alan sat up and glared at his brother, there was venom in the voice as anger crept in around the upset.  “Everyone gets to leave and I’m going to be stuck here on my own.  Maybe Virgil will add me to his pity list and call me cos you sure as hell won’t have the time.  I don’t want to be his next pet project and charity case though.”  

Alan’s words cut deep, as he had intended them to, and Gordon found himself wondering if that was all he’d been to Virgil, a project to feed Virgil’s desire to help people.  Surely not?  The friendship and growing bond between them felt real enough but the familiar doubts began to creep in about his self worth.  He tried to shake them off, knowing the dark places such thoughts could lead him to.

“That’s if Virg can even make time for me in his busy schedule once he goes off to Tracy College.  Why the hell does he need to get space rated anyway?  He’s never shown any interest in being an astronaut before.  Fine, John’s pretty much had his name down for the space programme since birth but why does Virgil get to go too?”

So that explained the animosity towards Virgil, Alan was harbouring a deep jealousy that he was getting to do something that was Alan’s own dream.  The youngest Tracy had always made it clear that he would be the third of that name to head into space after his father and middle brother and yet here was Virgil taking his spot, seemingly on a whim.  This, coupled with the growing bond between Gordon and Virgil, had evidently ignited a burning resentment.

A shuddering breath wracked the Alan’s body as the primary reason for his upset flooded back into his mind.  “I..I don’t want you to go.”

Whatever the issues were with Virgil, Gordon couldn’t shy away from the fact that he had been slowly drifting away from Alan to set up a new life.  He had been Alan’s primary source of company for so long, had been a confidante and carer to the younger boy, and now he was heading off leaving Alan facing a future of loneliness.  Their father was trying to be more involved but he was still a virtual stranger in Alan’s life and had a lot to learn about parenting teenagers. 

He wanted to let Alan know that it would all be ok.  Wanted to tell him that soon enough he would be out of this hateful city and in a place where their father and at least some of his brothers would be around a lot more.  He wanted to tell him about the rockets and the space station and everything that he knew would ignite his little brother’s passion.  But he couldn’t.  Even if their father hadn’t expressly forbidden it there was still a fundamental  issue in that the island wasn’t actually theirs yet and until the deeds were signed and move confirmed he just couldn’t plant the seeds of the dream in Alan’s mind if there was any chance of the dream crashing down.  Instead he had to make do with platitudes that must have felt empty to the devastated teen.

“It’ll be ok, you’ll see.”

“Will it?”  The words were spat at him.

“It will; trust me on this.  I’m not going anywhere for a little while yet and I’ll still be able to call, I’m going to be at Marineville not Mars.  Those first 6 month of training will be pretty intense but I’ll still get some time off.”

“And what about after that?  What about when you aren’t at Marineville but you’re getting sent all over the place like Scott does?  You won’t be able to just pick up the phone or head back for a weekend if you’re under water on the other side of the world.  You may as well be on Mars then.”

Gordon slung an arm around his younger sibling, drawing that smaller form into a hug.  He half expected Alan to pull away but he took it as a good sign that the anger was burning out when Alan acquiesced and leaned in heavily against him.

Alan felt like his whole world was dropping away.  Of course he had known this moment would come but the arrival of the letter had just hammered home the inevitability of the situation.  He felt angry at Gordon, angry at their father and more than a little angry at himself.  He was fifteen for goodness sake, he shouldn’t be needing hugs from his big brother, but he still didn’t pull away from that warm hold.  There was something comforting about those strong arms, honed through years of hard exercise, that made him feel safe and with that feeling of safety came the assurance of familial love.  He clung to it, knowing that all too soon his last brother would be leaving just like the others had; his big family had run out, he was the last and he would be alone.

Of course he had been alone before, Gordon had been away enough times at competitions that he was capable of fending for himself but this time was different.  This wasn’t just a few days with the excitement of following the swimming results to keep him occupied, this was a whole new future and he was facing the prospect of being alone with the father who seemed barely aware of his existence.  The next few years stretched bleakly ahead of him leaving a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“None of us know what the future holds but even when I’m not here you aren’t going to be on your own.  You’ve got four big brothers and we all care about you, you will always be able to get hold of one of us.  I need to do this though, Al.  If it wasn’t Marineville it would have been college somewhere and it won’t be much longer before you’re choosing what you want to do with your future too.”

There was a damp sniff.  “Gonna miss you.”  The admission was a quiet whisper but it stabbed deeply into Gordon’s heart. 

“Gonna miss you too, Sprout”  

They sat there a while longer, each lost to their silent thoughts but still needing that physical contact.  Gordon sincerely hoped it would be okay.  He’d been so focussed on his own future and excited about the prospect of a fresh start and fresh challenges that he hadn’t fully considered what he would be leaving behind, or rather who he would be leaving behind.  He had been looking out for Alan for nearly five years and now he would be leaving.  Alan’s whole life had been punctuated by loss as first his mother, and then the brothers who had stepped up in her place, disappeared one by one.  Now he would be adding another loss to the pile leaving Alan behind with just the father who had been far too distant for far too long.

[innerpostmentality]

Sometimes Beginnings Start With Goodbye - Part VI - Awakening

This is a TRR AU fan fic inspired by the Choices book series The Royal Romance All rights and many thanks are given to Pixelberry Studios for the use of their characters. Original characters are mine. This fic is written for my friend @tornbetween2loves it started as a birthday fic and has expanded. Please read these stories in order or they won’t make sense. The series links can be found in my Masterlist. There will be more parts to this series. Featuring: King Liam x Queen Giselle, Drake Walker, Dr. Meridoc Finn Rating: M - Erotica and Mature themes, Serious illness, Hospital setting              Word count: close to 2300 Warnings: erotica 18+ only please, depictions of depression, hospitalization, and life threatening illness Tagging: @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @kennaxval @stopforamoment @bobasheebaby @cora-nova @indiacater @hopefulmoonobject @drakewalkerwhipped @texaskitten30 @darley1101 @furiousherringoperatortoad @emceesynonymroll           Liam was pacing agitatedly in their quarters when Giselle got in from her last meeting. “Li? Are you okay?”  He turned and looked at her a frown etched on his features before going to her and wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in the dark silk of her hair. He held her tightly for a long moment before confessing, “I’m… struggling.”  She stroked his back feeling the tension in him as he held her. “I love you.” she murmured before she kissed the center of his chest. “What happened, Love?”  “Drake responded to the new doctor.”  Giselle was confused and she nuzzled into Liam. “That’s great! Isn’t it? Isn’t this what we’ve been hoping for?”  His tone was definitely subdued as he murmured softly, “Yes.”

  Giselle pulled back so she could look up into her husband’s face. She studied his handsome countenance as his frustration had his jaw clenched and etched creases between his brows. She reached up and gently stroked the frown lines between his brows then kissed him softly. “It’s okay for you to want him to have responded to you, Liam.”  He pulled her tight to him and fought against tears in his eyes.   “They practically kicked me out. Virtually told me that he wasn’t responding because he didn’t want to respond to me.   He’s my best friend, my best friend. I’m…   I don’t know what to do, Giselle. What if he hates me? What if all this is my fault?”   She shook her head, “It’s not Li. Don’t do this to yourself. Drake doesn’t hate you. Drake has always loved you. Just as you have always loved Drake.”   “I took you from him. Don’t you see? You were the only woman he has ever loved and I took you from him.”   Giselle leaned back so she could look into his eyes and huffed.   “Stop it! You didn’t take me from him. I wasn’t his. It was my decision.    Drake is a great friend. I will always love him as a dear friend. You are my husband because my heart is one with yours.     I love you Liam. You are my husband. You are the one I want to have babies with. I want to wake up to you snoring in my side. I want the chafe of your morning beard on my neck. I want to sing and dance and share every smile and every tear with you for all my days.” She kissed him gently.    “I really hope that someday Drake will find someone who loves him like I love you. But that’s not me. And it was nothing you did.    I believe we were meant to be. I felt you in my heart the very first time I kissed you on that boat before the Statue of Liberty. You Liam, not Drake, it was always you.”   Liam groaned and scooped her up in his arms carrying her to their bedroom. His voice was filled with aching need, “Giselle,… please my love… I need you so much.”  Desire radiated from him as he laid her on their bed then fumbled to release himself even as he reached under her skirt and found her thong soaked from her passion.    Giselle gasped as his finger stroked through her passion slicked folds before plunging into her. Her back arched with her need and she gasped, “Take me, Li… I’m yours. Only yours.”   The Mediterranean blue of his eyes barely showed around the depths of his passion blown pupils as he pulled her thong aside and buried his achingly hard length deeply in her welcoming passage.    She moaned her pleasure even as she reached to pull his shirt out so she could touch his skin.   His mouth met hers their tongues dancing even as he thrust vigorously into her hot core. He adjusted slipping his arm under her left leg to lift it just enough he could tell she was getting the perfect stimulation. Then her back arched and her inner walls were contracting around him milking him. His body answered releasing so hard it was an ache in his balls and belly. He gasped her name at last finding his voice again.   He held her tightly to him still shaking and rolled to his side, murmuring soft I love yous into her hair.     She kissed him tenderly and smiled gently stroking his tousled curls. “Hey.”        He smiled and rested his forehead on hers. “Hey.”    “Feeling better, my king?”        “Mmmm, hmmm.” He kissed her nose.    “I’ve got an idea…”     He kissed her mouth before she could finish, finally breaking the kiss and smirking at her. “I do too.” He started unbuttoning her blouse.    Giselle giggled. “Great minds think alike I’ve heard.” She started unbuttoning his shirt, then yawned. “I was actually coming up here with designs on a nap before dinner. How’s your schedule?”    “Clear for a few hours. I wasn’t sure how long the hospital would take.” He deftly slipped her blouse off then reached around her to unfasten her bra freeing her from it’s confines then nuzzling the firm globes of her breasts before gently suckling a pert nipple.     “Oww! Careful there. I’m tender.”     At once Liam let go and kissed her sensitive nipple. “I’m sorry Love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He stroked her cheek tenderly.    She kissed his palm and nuzzled him. “I love you, Li. But I really am so sleepy. And you are waaay over dressed. Can we just nap a bit and I’ll be ready for dinner. I mean wake me for dinner?” She smiled and yawned again. Her eyes drifted closed as he got up to remove the rest of his clothes; and by the time he returned to the bed she was curled up asleep.    Liam looked at his own sleeping beauty for a long moment his heart swelling with his love for her. How he wound up so damn lucky he would never know. And she was right. Drake responding was cause for celebration even if it wasn’t to him.    He chuckled looking at her softly snoozing with her dress pumps still on. Her blue jersey dress skirt bunched up exposing her garter belt and thong.  She was radiantly, effortlessly beautiful to him. His queen.  He gently removed her shoes and she sighed softly but didn’t wake. He undid her stockings and rolled them down her legs kissing her ankles. He loved the way the corners of her mouth lifted even in her sleep as he pressed kisses down her legs undressing her.    Finally when they were both bare he set an alarm on his phone for an hour and pulled a blanket over them spooning around her with a feeling of deep contentment settling over him.                                                    ****      Meridoc woke up with her back and shoulders cramping and the distinct feeling that she was being watched. She had a moment of disorientation with the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the dimmed resting lighting in the room, and the periodic soft burring of the pump on the NG feeding tube. Her hand was still clasped in Drake’s hand as she lifted her head off her asleep arm and groaned softly from her muscles aching in protest from being in the same awkward position for too long.    She blinked, focusing and realized that she was in fact being watched by a pair of very aware dark eyes. She yawned and gave him a soft smile. “Ach, well, hello there Mister Walker.”    “Wha?” his voice was painfully dry and raspy as he tried to ask the woman holding his hand what had happened. He didn’t recognize her. Yet she was holding his hand when he woke up shackled in the hospital bed. He presumed it was the hospital. God in heaven he hurt. At least he felt a little warmer now.   “It’s grand to see you awake. I’m doctor Finn, Meridoc Finn.” She stood with another groan and found the nurse call remote. “Maith liomsa, ach, I’m going to get you some assistance and beg your leave for a bit.”    He squeezed her hand and blinked at tears. He didn’t want her to leave. It was silly and he knew it at some level. But her hand comforted him. Her voice was like a soothing balm that eased him. He knew her voice. It pulled him from the cold darkness that had consumed him. The idea of her leaving wrenched his heart. He moaned and squeezed her hand. “Plea…” He managed a soft raspy whisper that tore at his painfully dry, raw throat.    A middle aged nurse in apple print scrubs came to the door. “Dr. Finn, you called?”   Meridoc smiled at the dark-haired nurse. “Aye. Mister Walker is awake. And I’m in serious need of some relief. Could you please bring me a cup with ice chips and see if there is someone in the waiting room who might come say hello and sit with him for a bit?  Ah, and can you turn up the lights just a notch? Not too bright.” She continued to hold his hand even as she tried to stretch and roll her shoulders to relieve some of the kinks.    Deep compassion shone in her eyes as she looked down into his. “I wager you’re dry and wondering about how you wound up here?”    The nurse brought in a plastic cup of ice chips and Meridoc thanked her. “Mister Walker I’m not leaving but I thought you might like a little moisture. So I’m going to need my other hand for a wee bit.”    His eyes locked with hers and he let her hand go. Tears rolled down his cheeks as her hand left his. He felt foolish as panic washed through him and he curled his empty hand into a painful fist.    She reached out and gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Ach there, now. Here.” She ran an ice chip over his lips holding onto it letting it melt and drip into his mouth. “I can’t give this to you with you flat. So I’m going to raise your head a smidge once you are finished with this chip.”   The cool moisture was like heaven to his parched mouth. He didn’t know why her presence comforted him so much. He just knew she was his savior, his angel, giving him strength, making him whole again through all the pain.    After the last drop of the melted chip ran from her finger into his mouth she nodded then went and raised the head of his bed before returning to the head of the bed. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and put an ice chip in it then held it a moment to dampen the handkerchief. “Now I’m going to wipe your eyes if you wish and give you this ice chip in your mouth; but you must not try to swallow the chip. Do you understand?”    Her eyes were blue. Heaven blue. And freckles like pixie kisses dusted across her nose and cheeks.  She was telling him that she was going to adjust his bed so he could have some ice. But she didn’t want him to swallow the ice. He understood. “Ye..” It hurt to speak. His voice was a bare whisper but he wanted her to know he was trying.   The nurse led Bastien in as Dr. Finn was carefully wiping Drake’s eyes with her damp handkerchief before she slipped him a piece of ice.     Bastien saw Drake’s look of adoration when he opened his eyes again and watched Meridoc. Bastien noted Dr. Finn’s gentle smile and complete focus on Drake as she slipped him an ice chip then carefully ran the pad of her thumb over Drake’s bottom lip. Bastien blinked the tears that threatened. “Drake! Gie, mou.” He went to the bed as Dr. Finn stepped back. He leaned down taking Drake’s hand, opening it and squeezing it gently.     Drake reluctantly looked away from Meridoc and into Bastien’s love filled face. He blinked feeling the tears run again and squeezed Bastien’s hand back.    “Mr. Lykel, Mr. Walker has been awake for a bit. He’s responding nicely. If you wouldn’t mind sitting with him while I find some food and call my Da I’d be most grateful. I got him some ice chips and he can have one at a time as long as he just lets them melt in his mouth. Only one at a time as long as he’s responsive.”   She looked back at Drake her voice was firm but gentle. “No swallowing ice chips, Mr. Walker. We don’t want you choking around your feeding tube. I’m going to see about getting you some lip balm. You’re doing very well.”    He tried to nod but it made him gaggingly aware of the NG tube down his throat and his eyes widened and watered.    She squeezed his foot through the covers. “Hey, none of that. You two have a nice chat and I will come back soon.”   “Mr. Lykel you might want to tell Mr. Walker how he wound up here. And about all the nice friends waiting for him to get better. With that feeding tube in place he’s going to have a terribly sore throat and possible problems trying to speak but he’s giving good effort. I expect he’ll be needing some rest soon. He seems to rest better when you hold his hand.”    Bastien watched Drake follow Dr. Finn out of the room with his eyes before his gaze came back to him. Bastien knew he was crying and he just didn’t care. For the first time in a week he had real hope. He leaned over and kissed Drake’s forehead. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you, son. You can’t imagine the gray hairs you’ve given all of us. Liam and Giselle flew back as soon as I told them. Liam has been making arrangements for you to be able to recover in the palace. Doctor Finn is part of that. She’s a world renowned physical therapist who’s here to work with you. She was recommended by Doctor Ardes.”    He tried to listen to Bastien, he really did but he was so tired his eyes drifted closed as the comfort of Bastien’s voice and hand holding his lulled him to sleep.                                                                       

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

I wish you would write a fic where sOMETHING BEAUTIFUL HAPPENS TO KARA AND MON, LITERALLY EVERYTHING, I JUST WANT HAPPINESS!

TICKLISH

In which, on a Sunday morning Kara wakes up and muses about tickling, cold feet, green tea and someone’s glorious backside.

Edited by my one and only @yeratimelordkatniss

Avaiable on AO3—-> (x)

                                                ***

Waking up to a smell of coffee, made by her unexpected-but-welcome-as-hell-hot-boyfriend, was her favorite way of waking up on Sundays.

You could have asked, why was it not waking up to the smell of pancakes or bacon, but Kara had an answer to that: the smell of pancakes and bacon meant the breakfast was already prepared.

And Kara was a simple girl and she loved watching her boyfriend making food. Yep, totally only that.

J’onn, if he had been able to read Krypotrnian’s minds, would have coughed awkwardly and said something about her little obsession about watching someone’s backside.

Uhm, where was she…?

Kara loved watching the WHOLE Mon-El, wearing his yellow “Kiss the cook” apron she’d bought for him some time ago.

The way he was giving his full attention to the ingredients that were always organized on saucers and containers like a little army, ready to be thrown into a pot. Focusing with furrowed brows on the vegetables, cutting identical slices and dices, like he’s been using a ruler. His natural, gracious moves around the kitchen, when, without even looking, grabbed cookware, seasoning or coconut oil. His quiet, happy hummings of Daxamite songs, if the dishes he was preparing looked perfectly, like on pics from food and cooking blogs. The way he exposed his back and swayed his hips while stirring in the pot - she was almost sure he was smirking while doing it, totally aware that she was drooling on the table.

(Did you hear that? That was J’onn coughing in the distance).

Mon-El from Daxam absolutely owned her kitchen in his calm, not invasive and relaxed way, like he was born to become a chef and she was incredibly grateful for that.

Sometimes, she wondered what kind of a man he would have become, if he had been born on a different planet, in a different family.

But did it really matter?

No, this Mon-El was the man for her, the one that Rao has sent to Kara Zor El, like a Space Sleeping Beauty (and hey!, she had a cape and she could totally fit the Prince Charming’s shoes!). Kara wanted him, no one else. Her intimidating, happy go lucky, funny, incredibly skilled in a kitchen and in a bed boyfriend…

Uhm, where was she…?

Lying on her side, Kara slowly opened her eyes.

He was sitting beside her, resting his (glorious) back on the wall, with Lord of The Rings on his lap and a mug in his hand (with a cute labrador puppy printed on it - another gift from her, did she mention that she loved buying him stuff? No?) filled with (Kara sniffed the air) green tea.

Yuck.

Kara grimaced, remembering that one dreadful morning, when he showed his mug into her sleepy hand and cheerfully informed her it was something much, much better than coffee.

Without thinking she took a sip, expecting hot chocolate. When the horrible, bitter green poison hit her taste buds she spat it right back into his mug.

That was the first time in their short but very active relationship, when Mon-El was not amused by her actions. Not. At. All.

But well, for sure it woken her up better than coffee…

The second time when he became fully offended, was during their first cooking-dates. Right after she threw a tomato at him.

The red vegetable splashed on his shirt (oops, the super strength). Mon-El blinked, looked at the stain, slowly raised his head and pierced her with a very disappointed and offended gaze. And then he explained with a cold voice that she wasted a perfectly ripped certified organic tomato from the best plantation in California. And explained in detail how wasting food and natural resources was bad for the environment and as a Krypotnian - she should have known that.

Kara felt like being lectured by a biology professor from her high school. In the end she humbly promised she was not going to waste more food in the future. And she really meant it.

Too bad they BOTH wasted some food during another date when-

Uhm, where was she…?

“How’re the hobbits?” she rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly.

“When I think about it, they remind me of you.” He said seriously.

Kara stopped yawning in the middle and looked at him with furrowed brows.

“You mean I have hairy, smelly big feet and I’m a glutton?” She felt her brows slowly rising and almost meeting her hairline.

“What?” he blinked and looked at her confusedly. “No! Like them, you appreciate good meal! Your feet are perfect! And-” he started frantically praising her body parts and Kara just had to smile.

She leaned into Mon-El and kissed him slowly and sweetly.

The tea in his mug swayed dangerously.

“Oops, we don’t want to kill the mood and waste the tea, hmm?” she mumbled, took the mug from his hand and placed it on a bedside table.

“Mhmmm?” he asked totally dazed, chasing her lips.

With a Kryptonian satisfaction she proudly noticed a small hill that appeared near the area of his covered with blanket hips.

Ha! She, Kara Zor El the prudish Kryptonian, did this!

“Mhmmm?” again, Mon-El mumbled very intelligently.

“Remember the pizza?” she said and smirked when his eyes widened.

Yep. The pizza.

The other time when they decided to combine a date with preparing homemade food. The problem was, that they were both a little more interested in each other than in the most famous Italian dish. Somehow, they managed to put it into the oven and then, rather quickly, they moved to the bedroom.

And when Kara was so, SO close to uhm, you know exactly to what, suddenly Mon-El lifted his head from between her legs, sniffed the air, his eyes widening like saucers as he squeeked, “PIZZA!” and ran to the kitchen with superspeed, almost tripping on his pants that were lying tangled on the floor.

Leaving behind a sweaty Kara, with slightly raised hips and her mouth wide open.

Did she feel offended? As hell! But then he started panicking rather loudly in the kitchen:

“Oh, my fucking Rao! Kara, cheese almost got burnt and it’s crispy! And nooooooo, tomatoes! My precious Californian tomatoes! GRIFE!”

Kara had started laughing so hard that she finally fell from the bed.

Uhm, where was she…?

“But we are not preparing food?” he said lowly, with that special Mon-Elish glint in his gray eyes that promised her something amazing.

Her stomach has had some different plans, tho.

They both blinked when it grumbled rather loudly.

“Are you sure you don’t have a lion there?” Mon-El asked seriously, looking at her stomach, hidden under one of his t-shirts she loved to wear to sleep.

“Yes, and it’s hungry for pancakes,” she said sweetly. “You better feed it or…”

“Or what?”

“Or it will make you sleep on the couch?”

“Sometimes, I think you keep me here only because I cook for you,” he pouted.

“And for sex. Let’s not forget about sex,” she smiled but froze when a shadow clouded over his gaze for a second.

Like he really believed what she’d said.

They really needed to talk about his self-esteem super soon, because on moments like this one, she was almost sure he thought he was not good enough for her.

What was absolutely ridiculous.

But before she could have apologized, he sneaked his hands under Kara’s shirt (well, technically his) and it was her time to squeak.

Kryptonians on Earth were immune to punches, kicks, bullets, hell!, even to rockets. But for some reason they were not immune to Daxamites’ hands tickling them mercilessly.

The first time, when Mon-El had done it, she almost died from laughter. How many years she has spent on Earth, not really feeling the touches humans were giving her?

And then, the former Prince(ss) of Daxam who fell from the sky, gave her something no one else could - an overwhelming feeling of normality.

Too bad Daxamites were immune to Kryptonian tickling. But well, cold Kryptonian feet, sneaked under the covers and laid flat on naked Daxamites’ chests (or asses) worked almost as good as tickling. Few of Kara’s neighbours, woken in the middle of the night by an extraordinary Daxamite scream, could confirm that.

They were lying on the bed, limbs tangled, Mon-El on top of Kara, who was panting and giggling almost hystercially.

And then her stomach grumbled again.

Mon-El sighed heavily and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

“Pancakes?” he moaned with a defeated voice.

“Yes, please,” Kara hiccuped and laughed again.

“Want to join me?”

“In a minute,” she kissed the tip of his nose and watched him leave.

Then she chuckled and spread her limbs on the bed, feeling incredibly happy and fulfilled.

Caresing softly a still warm side of his bed, she decided that she didn’t want to wake up in an empty bed ever again.

And then she smiled broadly when she heard him humming hakuna matata, while cracking eggs and mixing them with flour and milk.

Kara slowly got up and went to the kitchen with a strong resolution to allow him to make the pancakes.

While looking at his glorious ass, of course.

THE END

AN

First of all, feel free to kill me. BUT, I’m dealing with fuckingly massive writer’s block and this one shot, submitted to me by an anon on tumblr, may be a light in the end of the tunnel (let’s hope it’s not a fucking train). I’m in the middle(ish) of writing the third part of The Jolly Disaster (the second is going to appear in few minutes) and then I will finish Accidentally in Love. Cross your salty fingers, guys.

Also, writing it was super fun, so if you have prompts for SHORT ONE SHOTS - send me a pigeon.

Thanks for reading :)

[dantesilvadraws]

Miracle

Title: Miracle Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki + Kirishima Eijirou Warning: Contains Omegaverse

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me with ko-fi, patreon, or buy my original novel in print or in digital format. Thank you! Patreon members have already had access to this fic for about a week.

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Bakugou turned off the kitchen stove and with a ladle he poured the creamy chicken soup into a bowl. He filled the bowl about halfway before pouring the rest into a transparent container and set it aside. He then shoved a bottle of water and some crackers under one arm and carried the bowl of soup with the hand on the opposite arm.

He went into the bedroom and saw Kirishima curled on his side with a pained look on his face. Bakugou set the food he brought on the nightstand then sat next to Kirishima on the bed. With the back of his hand he caressed the side of his boyfriend’s face, “How are you feeling, is your back still spasming?”

“Yeah…” Kirishima admitted with a sigh, he opened his eyes and stared up at Bakugou, “It feel like its spreading.” he paused but when he saw Bakugou’s saddened face he added, “But I should be fine.”

Bakugou managed a soft smile, and asked, “Do you think you can eat a little?”

“Yeah.” Kirishima slowly sat up and Bakugou began to feed him.

The soup was warm and relaxing, it’s creamy goodness was just what Kirishima thought he needed. He was able to get a few spoonfuls down before he began feeling nauseated and asked Bakugou if he could sleep for a little while.

Bakugou agreed that yeah, maybe some sleep was just what he needed. And so with a kiss on the head, Bakugou took the remainder of the soup and went to the main room in the house accidently give himself a spell of panic.

As he sat on the couch with the sounds of the food channel filling the quiet of the room he began to research all of Kirishima’s symptoms on his laptop.

Looking up back pain told him that Kirishima might have a tumor on the base of his spine, or that his brain might be swelling, or that he’d be dead in the morning.

Looking up gastrointestinal discomfort with that back pain told him that Kirishima might have acid reflux, food poisoning, a parasite, oh and he was already dead and it’s time to plan a funeral.

Bakugou shut his laptop for a few moments and took in a few deep breaths before opening it again.

He then looked up pain that comes in waves, but all that told him was that his omega was probably going to go in heat soon.

Maybe that was it, maybe he was just going to start his heat soon and this was going to a particularly rough one. Maybe he’d hear Kirishima call his name from the bedroom, begging him for some sweet sex.

Yeah, that’d be nice.

Within an hour, he did hear Kirishima screaming his name but it wasn’t in the alluring tone he hoped for. Rather, it was full of pain and terror, “Katsuki call an ambulance!” he screamed.

Bakugou rushed back into the bedroom and saw Kirishima hunched over with his arms folded over his chest and stomach. The bed sheets were stained with a liquid that was straw in color and a few drops of red spots. Sweat was dripping from Kirishima’s face, he was shaking, and he was breathing loud and hard.

“Eijirou, what happened?” Bakugou asked, running toward his omega’s side.

“I -- I don’t know I ahhhh, ahhgg I think I wet myself…”

“You’re going to be okay.” Bakugou promised, he helped Kirishima stand up and slowly guided him to the other side of the bed.

He laid down on his back and through his teeth he said, “It, it feels like my insides are --” but couldn’t finish, instead he let out a loud, horrible scream that brought tears to Bakugou’s eyes.

Bakugou grabbed Kirishima’s hand and with his other he called an ambulance who then informed him they would be there shortly.

“Don’t cry Katsuki…” Eijirou said, catching his breath in between bouts of pain, “I’ll...I’ll be okay.’

Bakugou took the back of Kirishima’s hand and kissed it, “But what if something, fuck, Eijirou, I know there’s something wrong with you and I just…”

“I’ll be…” Kirishima tried to talk but he was interrupted by another wave of pain that ripped through him and he screamed. He accidently activated his quirk in the hand Bakugou was holding which caused parts of Bakugou’s skin to break open as he squeezed it tighter.

“They’ll be here soon!” Bakugou promised, “They’ll be here soon, okay? Okay?”

Kirishima bit down on his bottom lip before letting out another scream and in seconds the emergency EMTs had rushed into the apartment and into the bedroom saying they could hear Kirishima from outside the apartment door.

The two EMTs began to work on Kirishima, checking his pulse and asking questions about the situation. The pain that came in waves, the liquid on the bed, the feeling like something was going to come out.

“Are you pregnant?”

Kirishima shook his head no, there was no way he could be pregnant, not with his abs still chiseled to perfection. Unless it was too soon to tell and he was -- this was -- was this a miscarriage?

One of the EMTs began cutting off Kirishima’s boxers but before he could vocally confirm anything the omega felt a huge pressure begin to erupt from in between his legs. He screamed and instinctively pushed whatever it was trying to get out, out when he felt relief and heard crying.

But it wasn’t Bakugou crying.

It was the first cries of a small pup still connected to him by a cord.

Breathing hard, Kirishima turned his head to look over at Bakugou who had fainted.

Kirishima, Bakugou, and the baby were all loaded into the ambulance and taken to the hospital. It was all so surreal, he had a baby! He went from no baby to yes baby in the span of the same day without any preparation. He wasn’t sure what to think, he wanted to talk to Bakugou but he was still passed out, all he had was the little boy that was nestled against his chest.

The baby yawned and the new father smiled, “How did you hide in there for so long?” he asked, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were there, little one. I would have been more careful, especially around villains. You could have gotten hurt in there,” he sighed, thinking back to all the fights he’d been in, “I don’t know what I would have done if you got hurt because of me. I promise I’ll take good care of you, and thank you for not ruining my abs.”

Bakugou sat up in a hospital cot, alone.

No Kirishima.

No baby.

That happened right?

It wasn’t just a concussion?

Or a nightmare?

As Bakugou stepped off of the cot a doctor stepped into the room he was in.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” she greeted, “First time parents always seem to faint sometimes.”

“So it happened?”

The doctor nodded, “It truly is a miracle you know.” she began to explain, “How he didn’t know he was pregnant with a full term pup and nothing be wrong with either of them.”

“They’re okay?”

“Yes they are.” the doctor confirmed, “Let me take you to their room.”

He followed her into a quiet room where he saw Kirishima sitting on the hospital bed. He held the baby to his chest and a nurse was instructing him on how to breastfeed the pup. Despite not having much pregnancy symptoms, Bakugou was surprised to see that Kirishima’s chest did look a little more swollen than usual.

“Hey, Katsuki!” Kirishima called, “Come take a look at our son, he’s busy eating right now but you can watch.”

Bakugou slowly moved to sit on the bed next to Kirishima. He stared down at the baby and smiled, “Do you have any idea how scared I was, little guy?”

Kirishima had never heard Bakugou speak so quietly, so softly. Bakugou leaned forward and gently kissed the baby on the back of his head.

“Eijirou, were you able to think of a name yet?”

“I was thinking Kiseki.” Eijirou revealed, “We can use the kanji for bright and stone.”

Bakugou smiled, he kissed Kirishima on the cheek and agreed that the name was perfect.

[verobatto]

Hi! I thought this was the last chapter but... It is not hahahaaaaaaaaa I hate when my brain does that. I think I must have a couple of rebellious neurons that had meetings without my permission, Ok... Should I see a doctor?

So! Is not finished yet... Just one more chapter! (And I already have my next fic dancing on my head and looking at me with those eyes... Yes... I'm talking to you "next Destiel fic idea" 😒 just leave me finish this one!

Ok... I'm gonna tag now!

@agusvedder @magnificent-winged-beast @lovemesomecas94 @lykanyouko @destielhoneybee @sactownbrowns3

And if someone else wants to be tagged please rise the ✋!!

This is the AO3 link...

Love is scary

Supernatural tv show FF

Pairing: Cas/Dean

I don't own this characters

Act 6

- Look... Ahm... Cas... I... I... - Dean breathed deeply. He took some seconds and then raised his head and looked intensely at the mirror in front of him. He continued:- We know you for almost ten years now and...what got to do with it DAMNIT!- he cursed, hitting the desk with his fist.:-Why is this so hard...-he murmured. And then looked back at the mirror. He felt like an idiot.:- You can flirt with him but can be honest about your feelings. You are such a stupid son of a bitch.- he was talking to himself, and that made him feel more dumb. Dean sighed and turned around. He walked straight to his bed an sat. Looking very hopeless and useless. The hunter closed his eyes and then remembered what Mildred told him. Love is scary. And he was sure about it... it was more frightening than the apocalypse itself.

He didn't want to see Cas like last night anymore. He was in love with the angel. Castiel had become the center of his thoughts... The last person he thought about before going to sleep and the first when he woke up in the morning. He was like cursed. He never had felt like this before… and he knew… deep inside, that Cas felt the same way. Dean´s heart started to race again. He snorted, and took a deep breathe. Then the hunter stood up and he faced the mirror again with a determined look

.-Ok…-he whispered:-Let´s try this again tiger.-

 -What do you about the necklace?-Sam asked a little confuse about what Jack had just said. Castiel frowned but his mind began to put together that puzzle. Jack opened a really big and old book and pointed a page were numerous objects were printed:

 -Here.-he said, and the others two approached to him:-You need a considerably huge amount of power to feed the spell, so… I thought about the necklace that Jofiel were using… was very strange… and the beads were like blue… but… like energy… I can´t explain…- 

-You mean… like angel´s grace.-resumed Castiel, and Jack nodded:

 -Yes. Angel grace…-

 -So… those ex-angels…- blinked Sam, but Cas already had reached the idea:-They gave their grace to Jofiel. To released Michael. By devotion.-he spoke. 

 -Yes.-affirmed Jack, and bringing quickly the Book of the Condemned, he readed:-Two humans sacrifices, two human´s signs of alliance, the heaven´s power will be needed, and the portal will be open in that palace where the humiliation is considered holy.-the young finished. Sam was surprised. Jack could read that book without hesitate.

-I know where that Temple could be…- Cas said, in that moment Bobby, Mary and Charlie burst into the war room with new data.- We know where that feathered idjit is going to release our Michael.- Bobby announced, and Charlie gave a step forward and opened her laptop:

 -Here, angelic signs with apocalipsis signs, like a combo…-

 -Saint Francis Temple.- Cas pronounced with determination. Everyone in the room looked at him. Charlie closed the laptop: 

-That´s right dreamy boy. And we have to hurry… is about 4 hours from here.- 

-Ok. I´ll go get Dean.- Sam said and went straight to his brother´s room.

 -Ok…-Dean was still practicing his… kind of speech. He was so close by now., his ears were burneing in red, and he was sweating:-Ok… this is it. Not way out. End of the line. Here I go.-he breathe a couple of times, closing his eyes very tightly:-Cas I… I lov- I love you.-he whispered and he felt his knees were loosing stability, then Sam knocked the door and opened it, Dean almost fell surprised, he even had to sit on the bed. His face and a tomato could be the same thing. Sam frowned when he saw his brother in that shape, Dean was avoiding any eye contact. Sam coughed.

-Ahm… we… know where Jofiel is going to.. release Michael, are you ok?-he had to ask right after that vital information. Dean´s eyes were wide opened, and his head began to move in any possibly and avaible direction. 

-I´m cool.-the he stood up, and was not looking yet at his brother, he left his room:-I´m pretty cool. Let´s kill that son of a bitch.- Sam smiled awkwardly, but then followed him.

When Sam and Dean arrived to the war room they could see the team preparing their weapons. Dean's eyes focused right away on Castiel. The angel was in that soldier mode again... Looking so damn good. Damnit! He should concentrated in the mission! Cas caught Dean looking at him and saw how the hunter turned his gaze away ashamed. Cas sighed.

They were ready and took their bags and walked through the exit door. Just Cas and Dean left in the bunker. Obviously Dean did this on purpose.

-Cas... We... Should.-

-Dean.- Castiel abruptly interrupted the hunter. He turned to him and Dean blinked nervously:-we have a mission.-

- I know... I know. But... I really need to talk with you... I...- Cas tilted his head and frowned in silence. His lips parted and Dean was frozen again contemplating the angel before him. His eyes. His lips. His eyes again. He wanted to kiss him so, so badly. The hunter swallowed hard. And then Cas tilted his head to the other side. And wow... His gaze was so hypnotizing. Then he showed him his beautiful half smile.

-We kill Jofiel. Then we talk. - he said with rough voice... But it sounded like a whisper. A damn hot whisper. And then he left. Leaving Dean in shock. Did Cas already knows? He swallowed again and shook his head. His cheeks were pink... Almost red. And his heart was racing like crazy. He took his bag and left the bunker. Ok. The. They will kill Jofiel. Then he will confess to Cas... That sounded like a good plan.

They arrived. Jofiel was in the middle of the releasing spell. He had Roweena by the neck. Surrended by a dozen of ex-angels ready to die by the cause. The team attacked them. They were fast. Bobby, Mary, Charlie and Jack were fighting against them. Sam, Cas and Dean ran straight to Jofiel. He noticed their presence and laughed.

- You are late!!! Was the traffic??!!-

- Leave Roweena.- asked Sam. But Jofiel's face darkened. And then he finished the spell saying some word in enochian. Then Roweena's eyes were bright in purple and her lips moved automatically. Jofiel released her slapping her with so many strength that she flew in the air and his whole body hit hard against the ground.

Sam ran to her and held her carefully. She was lightly injured. Cas and Dean approached to them and a a white light invaded the temple. They heard Jofiel saying with loud voice:

- I told you you were late! Our brother is coming!!-

-Damnit!- Dean exclaimed:-We have to stop him somehow!-

-We have to remove the necklace from him first. With that he has tremendous power...- Cas said. And then Roweena smiled to them in the middle of her exhausted shape and she pulled a shining object out of the fold of her shirt. It was the necklace.

-I still have my abilities on gorgeous.- she said to Cas. Cas smiled and took the necklace with him.

- He is like another angel.- Sam announced to his brother. Then the three of them ran into the light. Dean caught Jofiel by the right arm. He was so excited that didn't see that coming.

-What...?!- Jofiel only managed to say. Sam was fast too and took the other arm. Then Cas stabbed him in the chest. Jofiel died laughing. Proclaiming that it was too late.

The Church began to tremble. The ex angels lay lifeless on the ground. Bobby, Mary, Jack and Charlie looked exhausted. They were standing in the hall.

-I can't see the boys from here.- Mary said. Charlie gave a step forward.

-What is that light?- she wondered. Jack's face alarmed from one second to the other. He realized about a terrible fact.

-They door is opening! Jofiel released Michael!- he shouted. Everyone began to run into the light but then it was like a big explosion of power. And they felt on the ground unconscious.

-What was that explosion?- Sam asked. Cas approached to Roweena and healed her with one touch. And all of a sudden, she grabbed Castiel's arm, and looking him in the eyes she said:

- We can stop Michael. But time is running.-

-How?-Dean wanted to know. Roweena turned to him:

- Someone has to enter at the light portal and close the door that the spell had created.-

- Do you mean this light?- Sam asked. Roweena nodded band continued saying:

-There is a door into this light that leads to the cage.-

-Ok. I'll do it.- Dean said with determined voice. But Roweena spoke again:

-No. Just a supernatural been can do it.- and the the three of them were looking at Castiel. Cas frowned. And nodded. Dean's face was filled with worry.

-No. You won't. what if Michael came out from the cage before you close the door? You won't do that.-

-I'll use the necklace.- Cas said putting on the glowing object with angel grace. And he began to walk into the light but Dean ran a couple of steps and grabbed him tightly by the arm.

- Wait... WAIT DAMNIT!- He yelled at him. The light was now everywhere and only they could see each other.

-There is not time Dean! I have to do this!- Cas was determined to continue but Dean needed to say something.

-I don't want this. I don't want you to die again I can't... I...-Dean's head was a mess... He didn't imagine it would happen like this... But maybe... This is how it was supposed to have to be. He looked at the angel fondly. That gaze that he never had shared with anyone before. Now... That gaze was just and only for Castiel. It took the angel's breath away. Cas knew the time was running.

-I won't die. I promise. I'll come back.- he said an turned into the light again, walking. Then Dean shouted:

-I LOVE YOU!- Cas stopped. Dean was looking at his angel's back waiting for an answer. Car turned around slowly and looked at him. And wow... That gaze was saying everything. It took just a second. Cas gave just a couple of steps. Stood in front of him and without hesitation, he took it by placing his hand behind Dean's neck and kissed him. It felt so passionate and intense. Ten years of holding back. Ten years pinning for each other. And now... They didn't have enough time. Ironically hilarious. Dean was petrified at first, but the he just kissed his angel back. Damnit. It felt so good. And sexy. His whole body was like jelly. Then Cas released his lips slowly. They faces were so close. He put their forehead together.

-I love you too.- They closed their eyes at the same time.-I'll be back soon. You wait for me.- he said and left. Dean was like daydreaming. He shook his head and breathed like for the first time.

-You better come back with me soon. You can't just steal a kiss from me and run away.- the hunter whispered with worry in his eyes.

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 1: December 24, 2016

Cover art by the wonderful @rose--nebula!

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Notes:

Part of my These Two Hearts series

Written for prompts provided by @doctorroseprompts​ over on Tumblr for their 31 Days of Ficmas celebration. I’ve played with the order of the prompts a bit, but I intend to use them all.

This will be a huge challenge for me. For those of you who know me well, you’ll know I am not a fast writer. To post one of these every day for 31 days will be pushing me well and truly to my limits. They may not all get posted on time, but they will get posted. Promise.

My eternal thanks to my brilliant betas @rose--nebula​ and mrsbertucci for picking up on the things I miss and for chivvying me along. ((((hugs))))

The first prompt is Hope. Please enjoy.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2016

Dear Father Christmas,

Blimey! It’s been a while. I don’t think I’ve written to you since… well since Jimmy. That bloody wanker sucked the magic out of everything. He sucked the magic right out of my life. But that’s all right. The Doctor gave me back the magic and then some.

Oh my God! I just realized! Maybe you don’t even know who I am. Is Father Christmas even the same bloke in all universes? Are you a transdimensional entity? I reckon not, or else transdimensional travel would be possible, and we know for a fact it’s not, not any more.

I know I’m just being stupid. Transdimensional capabilities or not, you’re obviously just a fictional character, a product of children’s imaginations and a bloated, economy-driven society. Still, I bet the Doctor would disagree. He’d probably tell me Santa is an actual being from some planet with an unpronounceable name. Complete with elves too! I wager he’d say “lots of planets have a North Pole”. But most of his knowledge is based on the Prime Universe… for now. So even if you are real there, you may not be the same in this universe, or you may not exist at all.

Don’t suppose it matters anyway, yeah? It was just always nice to chat with you like this every year, so I guess I’ll start again. I missed this. Back in the Prime Universe, Mum got me started writing to you every Christmas Eve, even when I was just a baby. Those first notes were just a few pencil scratches. Complete rubbish. She loved them, anyway. She kept them safe for years, would bring them out every Christmas and show them around along with the naked baby photos, (especially if I had been a cow to her or we’d had a row.) But she had to leave them all behind in the Prime Universe with so much else from our lives. Embarrassing as they were, it would’ve been nice to be able to, well… Enough of that!

By the time I was four, I knew all my letters. I was so determined to do it myself, write my own Christmas wish list. Mostly it was just all the things I wanted for Christmas. But I always minded my manners. I said please and thank-you. I always asked after Mrs. Claus and the reindeer. And, I hope I was never greedy. Sorry if I was, even if you aren’t actually the right Father Christmas to apologize to.

As I got older, I realized you weren’t real (sorry!) and my letters to you became more of a diary. You know… private stuff I’d write every year, yeah. It was nice to be able to say things, to tell someone things I couldn’t say to anyone else. Course, I stopped for a while, because Jimmy… I’d never want him to find those letters and have that to hold over me. Anyway, it’s not like I’d ever had the chance to write them, working two, sometimes three jobs, just to keep that knob in fags and drink. And after a while, I just got out of the habit, and life took some good turns… and some bad turns. Then some really bad turns.

But now, life is completely brilliant! I have my Doctor by my side... forever! I have my own baby girl. (Hope’s her name and she’ll be writing you a note too this year!) And, to top it off, I’m actually dictating these letters now. Voice recognition software! The Doctor jiggery-pokeried it so when it’s printed it uses my handwriting as the font.

I’m rambling, aren’t I? Guess I’m just a bit nervous (and excited) about doing this again and getting Hope started too.

I think you’ll like Hope. But I’m warning you, I don’t think she’s quite like other babies. Well, I know she isn’t. She’s her father’s daughter, that’s for sure. Nine months old, and she’s already talking up a storm. Full sentences! Just watch, she’ll be able to use this voice recognition software… Course, I don’t know what her handwriting font will look like, ‘cause she’s pretty much like a normal baby in her gross and fine motor development, so no handwriting just yet. Her verbal and cognitive development, though… the doctors at Torchwood say it’s off the charts.

It scares me if I’m being honest. I don’t know how I can ever be a mum to her… a proper mum. Thank God I have the Doctor by my side to keep her entertained, because she takes in absolutely everything and it’s never enough. But he “gets” her. He knows how to keep her happy. We take her on adventures (safe ones, don’t worry!) all through space and time. And we explore. Oh, we explore so much!

But it’s so different from the way I explored as a kid, ya know? Here’s an example. We go to a beach, yeah, with rock pools and lovely sand too, and the water is so warm and wavy. Now me, as a kid, I’d splash in the waves and muck about in the sand with my pail and spade. And at the rock pool, I’d poke at a few beasties and squeal about them. It was all just in fun. But with Hope, everything is so intense. She investigates everything, and her Daddy is right there with her, coaxing her to connect the dots herself, filling in the bits she’s missed. The starfish (sorry, sea star − I must use proper terminology!) was carefully examined, all its little bits explored and then thoroughly researched back at the TARDIS, and not just the names of the bits, but the hows and whys of them too.

And then the Doctor reads to her… not baby books, but Harry Potter and Narnia and Oliver Twist. She’s even sounding out some parts herself. He’ll break out the sciencey stuff, the physics and chemistry and biology, and the maths too, when it has something to do with what happened on our adventure that day. And she hangs on every word. I don’t know if she understands everything he reads her, but she sure understands a lot of it.

She’s just so tiny, just an infant, but her mind is so big. Definitely bigger on the inside, our child is! I love her like I never thought I could love anyone, but I’m so frightened that… that… well, that she won’t love me, a stupid ape. How can I be a proper mum to her when she already knows more about bloody sea stars than I ever will?

Then there are those times when I hold her in my arms and feed her at my breast, when I snuggle her to sleep, and I breathe in her sweet baby smell. It’s almost normal. Sometimes I can even get her giggling, completely out of control, over the most simple things, like peek-a-boo. And when she bumps her head, her arms immediately come up for me to hold her and kiss it better. Me!  That makes me feel like a proper mum.

You should have seen her when we were putting up the Christmas tree this afternoon. Her fat little fingers were grabbing for all those bright shiny baubles, and her eyes were so wide and she didn’t know where to look first because it was all so pretty. And then Daddy came prancing down the stairs from the console room wearing a big red light-up nose and huge felt antlers on his head, and we were all in hysterics. I really felt like part of the family, and I kind of realized I don’t always feel that way.

It’s made me think, though, going forward, I really need to make a place for her in my life as she grows. I always used to love to paint and draw. Once upon a time, I was even going to go for my A-levels in art. Before Jimmy. I’d like to take that up again, and I could teach her too, eventually, when she can actually hold a brush. Maybe we could do that together. And singing and dancing, not to mention gymnastics when she’s old enough.

Blimey! This has been one weird Christmas letter, yeah? And I haven’t even asked for any presents. I honestly just want my family to be healthy and happy, and I want to be able to be a proper mum to Hope. Not really stuff you can just hide under the tree.

Oh! Here comes Hopie now, in her Daddy’s arms, all fresh from her bath. Hey there, baby girl! Are you ready to write your letter to Father Christmas? C’mere, sit on Mummy’s lap and maybe Daddy will make us a cuppa. (Thanks, love!) And, my darling girl, as soon as you’re finished with your letter, we better head right over to see Gran and Grandad and Uncle Tony. There’ll be hell to pay if we’re late! (I hear you moaning, Doctor!)

Okay, Father Christmas, here’s me, signing off for this year. Lots of love to Mrs. Claus and all the reindeer and elves too! Thanks for listening to me whinge. It really helped to get it off my chest. I know, I know! I need to tell the Doctor how I’ve been feeling, but I don’t want him going and feeling guilty just because he’s being a bloody amazing dad. But I’ll talk to him; I promise.

Happy Christmas!

love, Rose

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

I know I keep requesting from the same fandom but I just love raymond reddington so much so can I pls request Red being adorable with Agnes

Oh, anon–never feel bad about sending me prompts! I want a million and ilu for sending as many as you can think of. I don’t know if you were requesting a drabble…but this is not that. This story needed much more than a hundred words.

Canon ended for me at 3x10, so I hope you don’t mind me borrowing from this AU of mine to write Agnes!fic. :)

Fluffy Agnes & Red, with a heavy dose of Lizzington. Also on AO3.

The notorious criminal was a total softie, Liz thought fondly as she heard him settling into the nursery’s rocking chair.

Red had shoved her out the door that morning, knowing how much she could use the fresh air and some quiet time to herself. “Go,” he’d said, waving a hand gaily. “We’ll be fine here for a few hours.”

When she returned to their current safe house in the afternoon, tucked away in upstate New York, the two were nowhere to be seen. It was the monitor on the kitchen counter that gave them away–he was talking to the baby in her room, undaunted by the one-sided nature of the conversation.

“You and I are having a wonderful Thursday, aren’t we, Agnes? Had a bath, a lunch of carrots and peas that I certainly couldn’t stomach but that you seemed to enjoy…how about a story before your nap?”

Liz was tempted to go up and join them, see her little girl before she fell asleep. It was still such a miracle, this person she’d brought into the world; someone who was hers. Someone perfect, from her long eyelashes to her tiny toenails.

Normally she would be there, watching her daughter drift off, fist gripping the green blanket printed with butterflies that Red had tucked into her crib when they brought her home. But it was a lovely sound, the smooth rumble of Red’s voice as he tucked Agnes in. She sat at the kitchen table instead and let herself enjoy it.

“Once upon a time,” he began, his tone softening in that lilting way he always employed for bedtime stories and nursery rhymes. It had not surprised her to learn that Red was an encyclopedia of fairy tales and nursery rhymes…though he always changed the endings if the originals weren’t as happy as Agnes deserved. “There was a little girl with beautiful blue eyes and dark hair.”

The notorious criminal was a total softie, Liz thought fondly as she heard him settling into the nursery’s rocking chair. He never seemed happier now than when she let him take Agnes for a walk or feed her breakfast. Every night while colic plagued their lives, he had hovered nearby, ready to help comfort the crying baby.

“She found herself lost in the forest one night, without her mother or father to guide her.”

This was a new one, Liz noted with interest. She enjoyed his stories probably even more than the baby seemed to…it was soothing, listening to his imagination at play. Not to mention just having him there. Honestly, she didn’t feel nearly as much like a single parent as she had expected to. He was so good with Agnes, Liz couldn’t feel guilty about relying on his help.

“The trees moved in the cold, looking like creatures that followed her as she walked. All she wanted was to find her way home, but she couldn’t spot a light in the darkness.”

And the way his eyes sparkled when he held her, the way he laughed at the faces she made…he must have been an amazing father, Liz thought. Now that she was a mom, she couldn’t imagine the horror he felt when he lost his daughter. If his time with Agnes helped heal that wound even a little, she was glad.

“Out of the shadows, suddenly, she heard a voice. It came in a whisper, and she should have been startled, but something about the voice seemed familiar. ‘I can help you,’ it said, and as it rustled out of the bushes, the girl realized it belonged to a sleek golden panther.”

Liz closed her eyes, letting him build the story for her and her daughter alike, imagining Agnes as she might look in a few years, standing on the forest floor.

“She knew that the wild creature was dangerous, but it had kind eyes. And she needed the help, whether or not it was wise to trust the big cat. So she watched it carefully as it approached, and asked, 'What do you want in exchange?’”

His voice deepened a little as he played the other part, making Liz smile. “'Only that if we meet again someday, you help me in return.’”

“Unsure how such a creature could ever require her help, the girl agreed. 'Please, now show me the way home.’ The panther nudged her with his nose and turned to face the darkness from whence he came.”

“'This is the way,’ he told her, coat gleaming in the patchy moonlight that fell over them. 'Follow me, and I’ll get you to the edge of the forest. You’ll be safe from there.’”

“It was not lost on the girl that a creature who could devour her whole was her rescuer, and she wanted to ask him so many questions. How had he found her? Why was he there? Could she really trust him? But all she wanted was to be tucked in her bed, safe and warm. Now was not the time to question fate.”

With a start, Liz opened her eyes, hit by the realization that Red wasn’t telling Agnes a story about her meeting a magical creature in the woods. He was telling her the story of them, Raymond Reddington and Elizabeth Keen, as it began, long before she was born.

Resting her chin on her hand, she waited for more. That was how he saw her? A lost girl? And himself, a dangerous creature who could devour her whole? Surely, they were past that now.

“They walked silently through the trees, the panther at her side. Alone, every crunch of leaves underfoot would have frightened her, but with him she wasn’t afraid. Despite his mysterious appearance, somehow she knew he would keep her safe.”

He always had, Liz thought. No matter how hard she made it for him sometimes, Red had protected her. And now he was doing the same for Agnes. Her daughter would never go through what she had as a girl, the loss and the fear. She would only know love.

“When they reached the last trees, the girl could see her house at the end of the long road he had led her back to. There was a light in the window, as though her family was waiting for her return. 'Thank you,’ she told the panther, offering him her hand in gratitude. He ducked under it, letting it rest on his back before she stepped toward the light. 'Until we meet again,’ he said in farewell.”

Rubbing her scar absently, Liz let her eyes close again. Was that the end?

“The girl arrived home and slept deeply, free from harm. She had learned her lesson, and no longer walked alone in the forest at night…until one evening, many years later, when she had long forgotten the strange creature she met and her journey through the darkness.”

“As she made her way home, she heard a voice off the path, calling her into the shadows. 'Please,’ it whispered, 'I need your help.’ Another woman might have been afraid, might have turned away and hurried to safety–but she was brave, and she recognized the voice with a sudden rush of memory. She had given her word.”

“'Where are you?’ she asked, walking into the trees, squinting in the dark. The forest loomed over her, too thick where she stood to let in any moonbeams. It was instinct that guided her to his side, where she found his golden form lying still on the leaves.

”'They laid a trap for me,’ he told her. She didn’t know who 'they’ were, but she saw his paw, surrounded by the sharp metal that was holding him immobile, and she rushed to his aid.“

”'I’m so sorry.’ She released him from the trap and lifted his paw to check the scratches left behind by the metal. 'Are you okay?’“

”'I will be, now,’ he said, gliding up from a slow stretch into standing next to her hip. 'Thank you.’“

”'Of course,’ the girl said, watching as he walked away, blending into the shadows until she could no longer see him. She went home, unaware that he followed just out of sight until she reached the trees–and that he would do so again whenever she traveled through the forest at night.“

Liz smiled to herself as Red finished his story. "He didn’t belong in her world, but he saw to it that she was never alone.” She never was, and now that she had Agnes to protect and care for, she was grateful every day for his company.

She heard the click of the nursery door as Red left the sleeping baby, followed by the gentle sound of his footsteps as he tried not disturb her on his way down the stairs.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he found a grinning Liz waiting for him.

“Oh, hello, Lizzie. Did you have a nice morning?”

“Yes, and an even better afternoon,” she told him, crossing the room to where he’d stopped.

“Our world is exactly where you belong,” Liz said quietly, kissing him on the cheek.

Eyes widening in understanding, he glanced at the baby monitor–then reached for her hand in response, unable to find words. Getting to be part of Agnes’ life was the most precious gift Liz could have given him, one he knew he wasn’t worthy of. But he hoped that his protection–his love–could make up the difference a little.

She laced their fingers together, and bumped his shoulder with hers, lightening the mood. “Really, Red? A panther?”

Her teasing tone made him chuckle. “What would you prefer, Lizzie? A bear? A wolf?”

“No,” she answered, serious again. “A man. Just you, Red.”

“Well, now, that wouldn’t make for a good story to tell Agnes at all,” he argued.

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But it made the perfect life for her. Thank you, for saving me every time.”

Red lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “You too, Lizzie. You, too.”

[icetaelemonade]

Happy Birthday Kim Taehyung

Our favorite Gucci King turns a whole year older today! So of course I wanted to write a fic for him. It’s a bit long but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Major fluff ahead!

Here’s to many more years Taetae!

Want to request a specific imagine? Go right ahead! Please check out my rules first.

I thanked every supernatural being for Tae being home on his birthday. I knew he was extremely busy with touring, but luckily his birthday happened to be after the tour ended. So there he was, happily resting in bed, unbeknownst to him that I had been preparing a whole day just for him. 

I woke up hours before my usual alarm clock just to prepare breakfast in bed for him. Tae was wrapped around my body as if he was some koala. He always needed something to cuddle with when he slept. It was difficult to squirm out of his embrace, but somehow I managed to escape without him waking up.

I tried my best to make a pancake in the shape on a heart, maybe it looked like a fat “u” but it was the thought that counts, right?

“Jagi?” I heard his morning raspy voice in the room. I knew his voice was already deep, but god in the morning it sounded like the ocean was talking. “Where are you?”

“Gimme a sec, babe!”

I scrambled around the kitchen for a birthday candle, I know I put them in some drawer from last year.

“Jaaaagi,” he whined. “I miss you already.”

“Taaae,” I mimicked him. “Stay in bed okay?”

I heard him whimper in response.

Finally! I found the tiny box of candles. I lit the candle and hurried to the room. I crept around the corner, just to make sure he wasn't getting up. 

“Happy birthday to you,” I sang. “Happy birthday to yooou!”

I wish I could've taken a picture of his reaction when I entered. All weariness from the morning melted away and was replaced with his boxy smile. His eyes would turn into crescent moons, and the shine in his eyes were stars. I would joke around with him and say that his smile lines would last him until he was an old grandpa, but I loved them nonetheless. He gasped, in a good way, when he saw my failed attempt at the pancake. 

“Happy birthday dear Taetae. Happy birthday to yooou!” I feigned a high note that made my voice crack. 

And his laugh, god. I wish I could bottle that up and keep it in a pocket close to my heart.

Tae clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. His lips moved slightly before blowing out the candle.

“Aww, babe, you didn’t have to.”

I placed his breakfast on his lap and made my way to the spot on the bed. 

“Oh but I did!” I pecked his cheek. “Happy birthday Taetae.”

He leaned into my shoulder. “You made my character from BT21. You made Tata!”

“Oh, well, I tried to.” Somehow I learned how to do pancake art last night after he went to sleep. It only took hours on YouTube to learn how to do so. “I was going to add a body, but you woke up already.”

“Heehee.” Tae shifted his head to touch his forehead to mine, eyes piercing my own. I loved his natural eyes, his natural hair, his natural look. I never knew I could love the color brown so much. 

Whenever he’d lean into me, foreheads touching, it felt like we were puzzle pieces just waiting to link together. And when he kissed me, our lips belonged together. Perhaps he lingered a bit too long, but I didn’t mind.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Now eat! Your food is getting cold.”

“Only if you eat with me.” He began to slice a piece off and offer it to me.

“No, no, no, it’s your birthday. You get the first bite.”

“Hmm, okay. Feed me then.”

I rolled my eyes, but happily obliged. We’d take turns feeding each other, more often than not I was the one feeding him but I didn’t complain.

“Hey, I want the lips,” I said. He had already cut that part out, but I wanted it more.

Tae brought the piece to my lips only to feed himself. I pretended like I was hurt, but he pecked my lips. 

I groaned. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

He could be such a sap sometimes. Tae finished the last few bits and leaned into me, sighing contently. 

“What’s in store for today?” He asked.

“Well,” I began to run my fingers through his hair. He was very into intimate touches. Cuddles, holding hands, he just needed to touch me and he’d be content. “I have a few things planned out for you, but really it’s up to you.”

“Agh, I just want the whole day with you.” We switched roles and I ended up being pulled into his lap, practically enveloping me in his embrace. “I just need a bow on you, can you be my birthday present?”

“Maaaybe. But who says you get only one present from me?”

“Babe.”

“What?”

“You don't need to spoil me.” He held me as close as humanly possible and rested his chin on my head. “I just want you.”

“And I want you to be happy. I’ll do whatever you want for today, how about that?”

“Good, now cuddle with me.”

We spent the morning in bed, just enjoying each others company. At random intervals he’d bite my ear or shoulder. It was his strange habit, but I’ve come to adore it. Towards the afternoon we played a bit of Overwatch. He was an excellent D.va and I mostly played support just to help him out. We reached Master rank and celebrated with sweets and hot chocolate. I told him to not spoil his appetite, but he took one last candy. 

“What’s next, Jagi?” He asked after opening his lootbox. 

“Hmm, want to go to the park?”

“Yes!” 

Breakfast in bed, check. Overwatch, check. Hot chocolate and other sweets, check. I tucked his present in my bag and hurried to get ready to finally set out of the place. In the middle of preparations my phone buzzed.

It was a group SMS of me and the rest of the boys. Namjoon said he and everyone else would be coming over to bring presents. 

“Tae?”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

He came out of the bathroom wearing little make up but, as always, he looked as stunning as ever. His fashion choice was toned down a bit, though I still noticed his Gucci shoes. 

Despite his glowing face, he pouted. “I kinda wanted today to be just between us.”

My heart fluttered for a second. He’d rather spend the day with me than his friends, his second family. “I’ll let them in only for an hour, then the rest of the day is just us two.”

He was still pouting, looking down in feign sadness. I linked our hands together and pecked his nose, I was aiming for that mole on its tip. “I’m still your present, remember?”

He giggled and lightly bit my nose. “Okay.”

The rest of Bangtan came over a few minutes later. They all greeted Tae a happy birthday and piled presents on the dining table. We chatted and joked around for a while. When they asked if we wanted to eat out for dinner I jumped in.

“Actually, I was hoping to have the birthday boy to myself today.”

“What, why do you get V to yourself?” J-hope asked.

Tae walked over with a bow from one of the presents and tied it around my neck. “Because this is the best present. I plan on keeping Y/N to myself today.”

The boys hollered, nudging me and Tae. I’ll admit, my cheeks flushed hot when he claimed me as his. He linked our fingers together, just to get his point across.

I ushered the boys out as they nagged us for being so possessive of each other. Namjoon told us to “stay safe.” And with that I shut the door. Their laugh still seeped through the doors. 

Tae and I managed to get to the park with no more interruptions. We stayed there throughout the rest of day, mostly walking around, taking pictures, enjoying our time together. There was a carousel that he insisted we ride. He sat on a horse behind me, the shutter of his camera would go off every other second. I looked back and formed a heart with my fingers with a scrunched face. He took at least fifty consecutive shots of that one moment. I took the camera from him as he modeled for me. I used to tease him and say he was the best at everything: modeling, acting, being a boyfriend. He would reply that it was I who brought it out the most. Regardless, he knew he was in front of a camera, the calm and composed side of Tae came out. Hooded eyes, lips slightly parted. I know there were many photos of him posing like this, but some nights, I’d see a Kim Taehyung that no one else did. Perhaps he showed off a bit too much, people started to realize who he was. He only smiled and waved at the fans. We went one last round on the carousel before leaving the park. 

Tae studied the pictures once we came back home. He had hooked up the camera to the computer, already storing the photos from today.

“Jagi! You look so cute in this one,” he grabbed my hand pointed to one where I was mid-laugh, and about to cover my mouth with my oversized sweater paws. Tae brought my hand up to his lips and just rested them there on the back of my hand. 

This was the perfect opportunity. 

“Speaking of photos,” I brought out the present I packed and brought it in front of him. “I thought about giving you some of my favorite ones.”

The present was a small golden pouch, one of the unused make-up pouches. Inside were a handful of printed out photos throughout our relationship and--

“Is this Gucci?!” He exclaimed.

A charm dangled from the pouch zipper. It was a little UFO with the not-so-subtle Gucci logo patterned throughout the metal trinket. 

“I know you don't really do your 4D quirks anymore, but regardless I think you’re out of this world.”

“Jaaaagi!” He pulled me into his lap and peppered kisses along my face. Once again he bit my ear, it tickled too much to be sexual. Then he said some gibberish.

“Huh?”

“I just said, ‘I love you’ in alien.”

I tried my best to mimic what he said, but he only laughed. 

We shuffled through the photos together. I pointed out my favorites, like the one where he was in stilettos, leather pants, and that choker leash thing. He posed like Vogue model and I couldn't help but capture the moment. 

“How about we capture one right now?” He asked.

Tae unplugged his camera and somehow took a selfie with me on his lap. Our faces were squished together, smiles stretching from ear to ear. He held me by my waist, as close as possible. As the camera flashed I had my own wish, to have many more birthdays with Tae, to always be his favorite present.