#requests will be posted after fictober!

[fluentmoviequoter]

I just updated my character list if anyone wants to check it out and send a request! I’m still writing predominantly for Dalton Lambert, but I would like to try my hand with some other characters if anyone is interested!! Here’s a prompt list for inspo but it’s not required; and my request rules are here. 🤍

[lovebugism]

Okay maybe Eddie bought a silly couple costumes for himself and r (something cute with “Why aren’t you wearing a costume?” and “I’m not wearing that.”) 🩷

ty for requesting lovie! happy fictober! ily! — eddie buys you a costume you don't feel pretty enough to wear and the gang crashes your cuddling session (hints of smut, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.5k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Your bare bodies stick together beneath a decade-old quilt. Eddie’s nice enough to let you use his lanky bicep as a makeshift pillow while you cuddle on the couch. His other hand hovers over your face, smoothing out the subtle furrow between your brows with the pad of his thumb.

“What’s this face for, huh?” he singsongs into the heavy, golden, post-sex silence of the trailer. His smile is swollen and crooked and barely there. It’s a very hushed sunshine compared to your distant pout.

“‘Cause I still feel bad,” you confess, voice so soft it’s nearly inaudible. Your feet knock with Eddie’s when your anxious legs entwine with his. “I made you miss that movie.”

“You didn’t make me miss shit,” Eddie laughs, assertive but not unkind. His warm palm spreads over your cheek. His chocolate eyes dance between both of yours. “I stayed in ‘cause I wanted to, alright? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“You called me a succubus,” you tease with a gentle giggle.

He had, though he doesn’t have much recollection of it. You looked far too pretty underneath him, and he’d been far too close to his orgasm. 

His hips rutted sloppily against yours, his rhythm gone totally stupid after feeling you gush around him. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” he babbled into the sticky skin of your neck, voice tighter and higher than usual. “You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, baby? Pussy’s so good… I’d fucking— I’d do anything you wanted me to— shit.”

His legs are still numb from the mind-blowing climax he had a moment later.

Eddie’s chuckle is louder and more boyish than yours. It fills the trailer with sunlight. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause you are. Which means I’d much rather be here with you than at The Hawk with all those other schmucks.”

He kisses you to seal his promise — a chaste peck upon your smiling mouth. It’s beautifully innocuous compared to how good he was making you feel hardly more than five minutes ago.

“I know you don’t like those movies anyway, so…”

“That’s not true,” you argue with a very believable pout.

His gaze goes sympathetic. “Babe… You almost cried when we watched Nightmare on Elm Street the other day.”

“No, I didn’t!” You most certainly did.

“You said you weren’t gonna sleep ever again.”

“I like horror movies ‘cause you like horror movies, dummy.”

The term of endearment makes him grin. He likes it when you get all mean, though you never really mean it. “Is that so?” he lilts with raised brows that disappear behind his fuzzy bangs. The ends of the umber strands are damp with sweat.

You nod lazily against his arm. His fingers are starting to tingle with numbness, but he loves you too much to move.

“Mm-hmm. That’s how relationships work. Compromise. I tolerate horror movies, and you tolerate—”

“Your Harrison Ford obsession?”

You lose your firmness and get all sheepish. “Shut up…”

“I’m pretty sure they were showing Return of the Jedi in the theater over, right after Sleepaway Camp,” Eddie observes suddenly, brushing stray strands of your wild hair from your temple. “We coulda had a double feature tonight, but you wanted to stay in with little old me.”

“That’s ‘cause I love you a whole lot more than some guy I’ve never met.”

Eddie beams at your words. His eyes start to glitter like he’s won something, and his cheeks speckle pink with pride. He’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. He’ll never get tired of you loving him.

“I’m flattered,” he singsongs and means it.

You smile and lean in to kiss his grin. The boy gasps before you can. He springs up from the couch at a moment’s notice, climbing over you with naked limbs. He flashes you his bare ass just before he tugs on the crumbled pair of boxers left forgotten on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, eyes narrowed in curiosity and mouth quirked in amusement. You twist on the couch so you’re propped against the back of it. You clutch the heavy quilt to your naked chest.

“I forgot something,” Eddie mumbles, halfway to himself, then sends you a lighthearted glare over his shoulder. “Don’t move!”

You still, grinning softly at the boy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. You watch him while he rifles through a plastic bag beside the TV stand. “I got us something while I was at the Halloween store with Harrington earlier,” Eddie explains over the noisy crinkling sound.

“Oh, god…” you murmur.

Eddie laughs and looks at you over his shoulder again. “C’mon, babe. Have a little hope, would you?”

He returns to the couch with a smirk and something he hides behind his back. He grins like a kid when he reveals them to you — two packages of Star Wars themed costumes held in both his hands. 

Pictured on one is a guy who looks eerily like Han Solo — complete with the vest, blouse, and holster triad. The other is an uncanny Leia Organa in a skin-tight white suit, beige knee-high boots, and a flowing cape.

You blink at both of them, then at Eddie. 

“…I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

“Our Halloween costumes!” he exclaims with a beam. “See, I’m gonna be Han Solo— ‘cause I’m, you know, charming and sarcastic and handsome.”

“Don’t forget humble,” you joke with a lovesick grin.

“—And you will be my beautiful, hard-headed Leia Organa.”

You glance again at the package in his right hand, at the pretty woman on the cover. You know you won’t look nearly as good in the costume as she does. Your soft smile flickers. 

“Eds…” you mutter in a wavering lilt.

A frown forms between his bushy brows, similar to the one you’d been sporting earlier. “What?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna dress up this year, remember?” you remind him, shifting awkwardly on the couch and clutching the blanket closer to yourself.

“But it’s Halloween, babe! Why wouldn’t you wear a costume?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you stammer out an excuse. “Because— I don’t know— I’m too… indecisive. Like, that’s a lot of pressure.”

“That’s why I picked for you!” Eddie grins, totally oblivious.

You laugh. It’s a bit cynical but not totally unkind. “I am not wearing that.”

He pouts, like a child or a hurt puppy. “But why not?” he wonders with a crestfallen inflection.

Again, you stammer. “Because— I mean— Just look at her, Eds!” you gesture to the package he holds with a significant focus to the girl on the front. “I don’t look like her!”

He grows from sad to confused. His brows pinch as he tilts his head to the side. His wild curls tickle his bare, pale shoulder. “Oh… kay?” he mutters, trying his best to understand you but not getting it completely.

You huff. Your chest stings as you explain it all to him.

“I’m… I’m not gonna look like the girl on the cover. You know that, right? I’m not— I’m not Princess Leia kind beautiful, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs, seemingly agreeing with you and smiling all over again. “You’re a you kind beautiful. That’s what makes you so damn sexy.”

He leans down over you with the intention to kiss you. 

Still pouting and inwardly aching, you pull back from him.

“Eddie…” you murmur, still gentle but obviously sadder.

He concedes with a small sigh. The couch cushions dip with his weight when he sits down beside you. He leaves the packages abandoned on the other side of him and gives you his full attention. 

“Look… You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, alright? We can stay in for Halloween for all I care. I just… I think it’d be a lot of fun, you know?” the boy rambles with a seriousness that’s typically foreign to him. His palm smooths across your knee over the thick quilt. His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “And I think you’d look… very pretty as my Princess Leia.”

His chocolate eyes twinkle with an undeniable sincerity. It makes your chest feel so warm it burns.

“Yeah?” you mumble, not quite believing him but wanting him to hear him say it anyway.

“Totally,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. He presses a lingering peck to your lips, then melts when he tastes leftover sex upon them. 

A switch flips within him then. His belly twists, and his eyelids get all heavy. His smirk is weighed down by lust as he pulls back from you and shrugs. “I think I could show you better than I could tell you, actually…”

Across the living room, the door busts open. 

Sunlight explodes throughout the dim trailer, making the two of you squint. 

Steve enters first, knocking on the open door to announce his arrival. “Phone’s off the hook,” he observes, pointing to the telephone lying face up on the table beside the front door. 

Eddie had two fingers inside you, and the thing just wouldn’t stop ringing. He grumbled in annoyance when he had to part from you to hang it up.

Steve puts the thing back on the hook while Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle walk in behind him.

Mortified, you watch with wide eyes as your uninvited friends file in. Your grip tightens around the blanket. You use one hand to make sure every inch of your naked body is covered with it.

Eddie doesn’t seem nearly as bothered by it as you are. Instead, he huffs in annoyance and spreads his arms along the back of the couch. They were the ones barging in, after all. If they had a problem with his pale, lanky figure and his thin, plaid boxers, then that was on them.

“Oh. Come in,” he hums, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Make yourselves at home.”

Robin’s got a thousand-year stare in her eye and a blue, red, and purple mouth. “Can I use your bathroom?” she wavers, voice strained. Her fists are clenched beneath her baggy flannel. They tremble beside her baggier jeans.

“Uh, yeah. Knock yourself out.”

She’s already rushing down the hall before he can get the words out.

The two of you watch her leave and then turn to Steve. He’s an expert in all things Robin Buckley nowadays. He shrugs and tells you, “She had, like, four slurpees while we were waiting on you guys at The Hawk.”

You shift awkwardly like you’re getting scolded. Eddie only laughs.

As all the gang settles around the trailer — Jonathan on the recliner, Nancy on the arm of it, and Steve sitting on the adjacent table — Argyle is the only one without a place to sit. He idles beside the couch, smiling at you with rosy lips and rosier eyes.

“How are you doing today, amigo?” he wonders with a curt nod, as mellow as ever.

You smile up at the boy, not nearly as fazed by the bright style and long raven hair as you used to be. Actually, you’ve grown quite fond of his slurred jokes that don’t really have a punchline because halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten it entirely.

“Good,” you respond, crossing your arms over the quilt you’ve got bunched at your chest. “You?”

“I’m peachy, brochacho,” he nods back at you. He grins, but the bright expression is weighed down by the weed. The skunky smell entwines with his musky cologne, creating a deep earthy scene that’s much more bearable than the weed alone.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you guys showed up—” Eddie starts with an inflection that would imply otherwise, wide eyes flitting around the room. “—But what the hell are you doing here?”

“You’d know if you answered the phone,” Steve retorts with a scrunched nose, flipping through a random car magazine. The Beemer on the front matches the sunshine yellow of his sweatshirt.

“Well, I was a little busy, Harrington—”

You nudge Eddie before he can finish the stupid joke. Everyone could already hear it anyhow — “I was a little busy, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 

He shoots you an innocently confused look. You give him a half-hearted glare in return.

“You guys flaked on movie night, so we brought the movies to you,” Nancy singsongs with a sweet, pink smile.

Jonathan unrolls the folded-up paper bag between his feet. The flimsy cardboard crackles loudly as he rifles through it. He pulls out a number of unblanketed VHS tapes with handwritten stickers glued to the front of them. 

“Uh… We got Sleepaway Camp, obviously,” the Byers boy mutters in his usual Byers way. He waves the tape in his hand and sits it off to the side. He reaches into the bag and grabs two more. “Twilight Zone and, uh, Return of the Jedi.”

Eddie is as grateful as he is confused. Movie night wasn’t totally gone, and both of your movies had been seemingly carrier-pigeoned to his trailer, but neither should be out on VHS yet. “How…?” the boy trails off with pinched-together brows.

Argyle answers. “Let’s just say I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy…” he smirks, then swirls his features in puzzlement. It looks like he’s trying to do math in his head. “…Who knows a guy.”

“I can pop some popcorn if you guys wanna, you know, make yourselves decent,” Steve teases with a feigned maliciousness as he hops off the square table. The old thing squeaks under his weight.

Eddie’s retort doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Right. My bad, Stevie. It’s not like you totally barged in on us or anything.”

You shake your head at their bickering, though you’re still smiling quietly to yourself. Eddie shields you while you rise from the couch. You wear the heavy quilt like a dress as you shuffle down the hallway to his bedroom. The thing trails behind you as you go.

“Sorry about them, sweetheart,” Eddie apologizes as soon as the door clicks closed. 

He’d wanted to say something earlier, but kept his mouth shut instead of making it a bigger deal. He knew you were bound to be embarrassed — because you almost always tend to be, anyway. He didn’t want to draw attention to the situation, or least of all to you, and make it that much worse.

“’S okay,” you shrug and drop the blanket on the carpet. 

Eddie tries not to go all teenage boy at the sight of your naked body, but he nearly loses his mind when you bend over to pick up one of his t-shirts from the floor. 

“We did sorta flake on them,” you reason as you tug the cotton over your head. The baggy fabric falls over you like rain.

Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. He couldn’t love you more if he tried.

“Only you would blame yourself when those assholes walked in on us,” he laughs, walking the short distance to you and wrapping you in his arms from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your neck. You smell like flowers, sex, and his cologne. 

“You’re too sweet for your own good, baby. No wonder those schmucks won’t leave us alone.”

Robin’s voice seemingly comes from within the walls — ‘cause the bathroom is only one room over, and the walls are especially thin. “Rude!” she grouses, voice muffled. “I mean, it’s true, but still.”

[captainsophiestark]

Each Others' Constants

Annabeth Chase x Platonic!Reader

Gif is originally from this really cool Happy Birthday Annabeth post! Go check it out and give the creator some love!

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by Anon :)

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Prompt: “I’m not alone and neither are you”

Summary: Y/N first came to Camp with Annabeth, Thalia, Luke, and Grover. Their lives have all taken very different, winding paths, with many ups and downs, and after the betrayal of Luke, Y/N’s first boyfriend, they decided to go far, far away from Camp Half-Blood for college. They come back regularly, but when they return for the winter break of their senior year, after the Battle of New York, they realize they might need to make a point of coming home a little more often.

Word Count: 2,464

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Major spoilers for Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, if you haven’t read it, and spoilers for the beginning of HoO! If you haven’t read either, check them out, they’re great!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I came to a stop at the top of Half-Blood Hill and put my hands on my hips as I looked down into the valley below, a smile on my face. I looked over my shoulder to find the cab driver still staring at me, a curious look on his face, so I gave him a cheery wave. He scowled back at me and then drove off, like a typical New Yorker.

I’d missed it here.

Camp Half-Blood had been like a home to me for years. I’d first arrived eight years ago with a group of other Half-Bloods and our Satyr, and over that time, a lot had changed.

Thalia, one of my best friends, had died and come back to life. Grover, my other best friend, became a member of the Council of Cloven Elders. Luke, my former friend and first boyfriend, had turned traitor only to give his life defeating Kronos. And Annabeth, my baby sister in everything but blood, had grown up into an incredible, beautiful, strong young woman.

I couldn’t have been more proud of her.

As for me, I’d left Camp Half-Blood just before Luke had turned traitor, about four years ago now. Instead of staying around the Camp I’d basically grown up in, I’d left for college, deciding to go abroad and see the world after so many years in the same place, happy but afraid of the outside world. I’d come back last summer, to help fight the Battle of New York, only to leave again once the dust had settled for my senior year of college.

Now, I’d just gotten back for winter break. Camp Half-Blood had been my only family for a while now, so of course, I’d come back to spend it with them. Our normal protective bubble had let just the lightest dusting of snow in, and in the wake of the changes Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, had called for after the Battle of New York, the Camp was livelier than I’d ever seen it in the middle of the winter.

I took one last beat to survey the scene in front of me, then started heading down the snow-covered hill to say hello to everyone. They’d known I was coming back for the holidays, but so far, no one had noticed my arrival.

As I got closer and closer to the Big House and the familiar (but newly expanded) ring of cabins, I started to get a little worried about why that might be. I could feel a tension in the air that had only ever meant something bad in my experience here, and as I got closer the tone of voices coming from the people rushing about sounded more urgent than excited.

“Hey!” I called, stopping the first camper I came across. I didn’t recognize her, which felt a little strange, since I used to know everyone at Camp, especially those who stayed over the winter holidays. I pushed the thought out of my mind however as I noticed her worriedly looking behind her, like she had somewhere to be. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know…” she started, giving me a bit of a suspicious look. I stared right back, and after a second, she apparently decided I probably wouldn’t have been able to get into Camp if I’d been a threat. “I woke up and everyone was freaking out about something. One of my friends said they heard somebody’s missing, but I don’t know who.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. We’d just survived a war. We did NOT need some new danger, especially not so soon.

“Where’s Annabeth?” I demanded. “Or Grover, or Chiron?”

“I don’t know… you could always check the Athena Cabin?”

I grit my teeth, incredibly frustrated but trying not to take it out on some kid who’d done her best.

“Alright, thanks,” I said, then took off without another word. If Annabeth had gone missing, especially while I’d been away, traveling the world instead of here, with her…

“Y/N!”

I turned around at the sound of my name to see Malcolm Pace, one of the Athena kids around the same age as Annabeth, speedwalking towards me. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“Malcolm! What’s happening? I found a camper who said someone was missing-”

“Percy. Percy went missing sometime last night.”

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to process the news. My gut reaction was incredible relief that it wasn’t Annabeth, but that quickly faded back into a horrible, sick feeling. I loved Percy like a little brother too, and he and Annabeth had finally gotten to their happy ending. This was not good, in any way.

“Annabeth’s in the Athena Cabin,” he said, taking a step towards me and Cabin 6. “I think you should probably come see her.”

I nodded, dropping my hand from my forehead and letting the urgency of the situation clear my mind. I could sort through the worry and fear later. Right now, there were things that needed doing.

First and foremost, checking on Annabeth.

I marched through Camp with Malcolm, laser-focused on my goal. I passed a few other campers I knew and we exchanged curt nods, but neither of us tried to stop and chat. We all knew there were more important things going on now. Hopefully, we’d have the time for small talk later.

We reached the Athena Cabin, and I found a few younger, worried-looking campers hovering outside. I headed for the door and Malcolm made to follow me, but I paused and put a hand up.

“Malc, I think it might be a good idea if I go in and talk to her alone, for a second,” I said. Malcolm nodded and took a step back.

“Of course,” he said, then turned to the campers still hovering around the door. “C'mon guys, let’s go check in with Chiron and see if there’s something productive we can do to help.”

I nodded my thanks to him as he rounded up the stragglers and got them to leave, then turned back to the door. I took a deep breath, then opened it and stepped inside.

I found Annabeth in the middle of the room, papers and notes spread out all around her. She wore one of Percy’s favorite hoodies, and my heart broke a little at the sight.

“Annabeth?” I said, my voice quiet as I slowly approached her. She whirled around as soon as she saw me, and even though I’d seen her just a few months ago, I couldn’t help being struck with the realization of just how grown up she was now. It felt like yesterday she was a little seven year old wielding a ball peen hammer, ready to brain Luke, Thalia, and I when we’d first found her. Now, she was a junior in high school and almost as tall as me.

And she looked absolutely heartbroken.

“Y/N,” she breathed, staring through me as much as she was staring at me. Her blonde hair was a mess in its pony tail, and she had mascara smeared around her eyes like she’d been rubbing at them. I took a few more steps across the room, and she didn’t move an inch the whole time. Finally, I got close enough to pull her into a hug. As soon as I wrapped my arms around her, she collapsed into me, and I could feel her sobbing even though the tears were silent.

“Oh, Beth…” I breathed as I held her tighter. I wanted to take the pain away, but I knew from plenty of experience that there was nothing I could do except be there for her.

We stayed like that for a few long minutes, not speaking, and I could tell this was an emotion dump that Annabeth had been fighting off for a long, long time. Finally, though, she shifted a little bit, resting her head on my shoulder as the tears slowly calmed.

“We were supposed to be done with this,” she finally muttered. I rubbed calm, slow circles on her back as she continued. “When we beat Kronos in New York, it was supposed to be over. Some terrible prophecy from Rachel for the next generation of demigods. Not us.”

“It’s not fair,” I echoed, squeezing her as tight as I could. “It’s total bullshit that after everything you’ve been through, you have to deal with something else, Annabeth.”

She took a few more shaky breaths, but didn’t pull away from me. She breathed in like she was getting ready to say something, but then paused. I stayed silent, waiting, letting her take her time. Finally she breathed, barely above a whisper, “I’m just sick of feeling so alone. With Percy, I finally stopped being alone.”

My heart shattered in my chest, and I had to fight back a few tears of my own at her words. I could deal with my own emotions later, but right now, Annabeth needed me.

“Why did you feel alone before Percy?” I asked, being careful to keep any kind of judgment or opinion out of my tone. She shuddered, and I held her closer, trying to give her all the love and support I could without saying words. She didn’t pull away to look at me as she responded, her words half-mumbled like thoughts she was still working through.

“When I was a kid, we had such a clear, close group, you know?” she started. “It was you, me, Luke, Thals, and Grover against the world. And then… and then Thalia died. And Grover started working on other assignments and his own quests and goals. And… and you and Luke… got together, and you always included me, but… it wasn’t the same. And after Luke’s quest, he started getting more distant anyway, and then you left for school and Luke turned on all of us, and I’ve made other friends here, but… for most of my life, I’ve had to rely on myself. Take care of myself, be enough for myself. And I am enough for myself. But with Percy… it finally felt like I had a partner to go through everything with. And now, after we survived a war together, he’s gone. And I’m alone again.”

I waited as Annabeth finished her statement, gathering my thoughts and just in case she had something else to say. When she didn’t continue, I held her a little tighter, then spoke.

“Annabeth… I’ve felt that. A while ago and even this past semester away from Camp. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but… I remember when Luke started pulling away, after his failed quest. He was my partner in things, we told each other everything. But after that, he stopped talking to me. A little wall went up, and no matter what I did to try to tear it down, it was always there. It only got worse as time went on, and then as you know, we both basically lost him for good when he joined Kronos.”

Annabeth took a shaky breath, and I held her a little tighter, as much for my own comfort as hers. I’d worked through a lot of the trauma that had come from everything to do with Luke for the past few years, but not all of it. Still, I shook it off as well as I could and continued.

“Even in college, it’s been the same thing,” I said. “I’ve gone to all kinds of new places and met so many interesting people, but there’s a big part of who I am that I just… can’t share with them. I’m independent, and I’m glad I’m independent, but… I understand feeling like you’re not really connecting with anyone as deeply as you want to. And it sucks.

"But you will always have me, Annabeth. Just like I’ll always have you. And we will find Percy, and then you’ll have him too. No matter how much it feels like it sometimes Annabeth, I’m not alone and neither are you.”

Now it was Annabeth’s turn to squeeze me tight, so hard it almost hurt. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. After a few long moments, where plenty of things passed between us even without speaking, we finally pulled apart enough to look at each other. Annabeth still didn’t look happy, but she seemed more determined and settled in herself. That shattered look I’d seen when I’d first come through the door was gone.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she said. I gave her a light squeeze.

“Always. And hey, I promise I’m going to make more of a point of staying in touch while I’m gone, alright? This semester especially, I think I was running from… well, almost everything associated with Camp Half-Blood and all the history and pain that comes with it. But I don’t ever want to run from you. So letters, more frequent visits, an illegal cellphone, whatever. Whatever it takes to stay more in touch, yeah?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Now let’s see what your notes are looking like on the Percy situation, huh? We’ve got a son of Poseidon to track down.”

Annabeth nodded and we finally broke completely apart as she turned to start taking me through all the notes, clues, and evidence she’d gathered so far. I stood by her side as she walked me through it all, and whenever it looked like she might be overwhelmed again, I put a hand on her shoulder and did what I could to keep her calm.

Annabeth deserved nothing but happiness, especially after everything she’d already been through. But if problems and trouble were going to keep popping up and getting in her way, then I was going to be right by her side, through all of it. No matter what.

We’d find Percy, and Annabeth would get her partner back. But I made a vow as we stood in that room, pouring over information and trying to reason out where Percy might be, that I was never disappearing on my little sister again. No matter what directions our lives took us in, or how separate our paths became, I would always be there for her. We’d been the only real constants in each others’ lives for about a decade now, and we were going to stay that way for many more decades to come.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[baronessblixen]

I know fic canon mostly has Mulder eating questionable things and getting sick from it, but if you are willing I’d like to request a Scully sick fic please. She eats something off on the road during a case, while driving it starts repeating on her loudly which she tries to stifle, her audible stomach cramps and gurgles intensifying and moving lower while her nausea rises until she’s begging Mulder to pull over at the nearest motel or gas station bathroom because ‘ one way or another, whatever is inside me needs to get-urrp out, now!’ Inspired by a recent stomach bug of mine where I wish I’d had a Mulder to hold my hair and rub my back

Almost two years later and here we go! (I hope anon is well after that stomach bug)

Hurt/comfort post-"Arcadia": They're on their way back home from The Falls at Arcadia when Scully gets sick. (wc: 1,918)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 17: In Sickness And in Health

“Are you hungry?” They’ve been driving for about two hours and have exchanged about as many words. Neither of them was in the mood for breakfast this morning before they got into their family-friendly car to leave this place where neither she nor Mulder fit in. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that he’s still wearing his wedding band. It irritates her.

“Are you asleep?” Mulder asks, glancing over at her.

“No,” she says in a clipped tone.

“No, you’re not hungry?” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes briefly. It’s not Mulder’s fault she’s on edge. At least not entirely his fault. They went from ‘don’t make this personal’ to him invading her personal space at every opportunity and flirting with her as if the whole Diana thing hadn’t happened.

“No, I’m not asleep,” she says calmly. “I’m hungry.” The tension in the car eases, but they fall quiet again. What is there to say these days?

It doesn’t take Mulder long to find a roadside diner. He parks the car and she doesn’t wait for him while he stretches out his long limbs. He catches up with her – damn those legs – and attempts to hold the door open for her. But he’s too quick, and they’re too uncoordinated so he smashes his shoulder into the door.

“Are you hurt?” Scully asks.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at her, his eyes glinting.

“Let’s get something to eat then.”

Mulder goes for pancakes and bacon, asking her if she wants the same. She does. She does want something fatty and greasy. Instead, she shakes her head.

“Scrambled eggs, please.” The waitress wanders off, leaving Mulder and Scully alone with their thoughts and their silence. He starts playing with the salt and pepper shakers, his hands unable to stay still. Scully wishes she had something to say. Anything. She watches and waits for the waitress and their food. Her stomach is in knots. She knows it’s not just because she hasn’t eaten anything in a while. It’s because of whatever is happening between her and Mulder. She wants things to go back to normal, but she still flinches when he touches her. The way he treated their first case back still leaves a sour taste in her mouth. The way he treated her, as his wife, even more so.

Maybe they should have sent Diana with him.

The thought makes her so sick that she’s tempted to just leave her scrambled eggs untouched. Mulder digs in undeterred, glancing over at her. She doesn’t want to worry him and more than that, she doesn’t want him asking any questions why she isn’t eating. The eggs are runny, and don’t taste good at all, but she makes herself finish the plate out of some misguided sense of obligation.

“I’m gonna pay,” Mulder says, his chair noisily scraping over the floor. It grates on her in the same way his behavior does. She tries to shake the feeling off. Her skin feels raw and she takes off her blazer, feeling too warm. Mulder returns and she catches him contemplating whether his hand on her back would be welcome. When he doesn’t touch her, she feels the absence of him all over.

Another two hours on the road and Scully’s stomach begins to grumble and gurgle. She takes a sip of water and all it does is make her nauseous. She decides to close her eyes and ignore it. She’s become quite good at that. Soon she realizes that closing her eyes was the wrong move. She feels too dizzy. She rolls up her sleeves, her skin seemingly on fire.

“You okay?” Mulder asks. She doesn’t answer; she’s not deliberately ignoring him, but she’s not sure what will come out when she opens her mouth. “Scully? What is it? You look pale.” She shakes her head, hoping that Mulder will see it. Her stomach cramps violently and she presses a hand against it.

“Stop,” she presses out through her lips.

“What?”

“Restroom,” she tries instead.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Mulder says, sounding panicked. “Can you hold on?” She wants to say yes. She wants to assure him that she’s fine. Her shivering body and the overwhelming nausea, however, tell a different story. “There’s next to no traffic here.” Mulder looks around and stops the car so abruptly that Scully’s stomach revolts. Her shaking fingers try to unlatch the seat belt and she almost cries out when it won’t come undone.

Mulder reaches over, and their fingers brush against each other. She’s free and stumbles from the car. She doesn’t get far until her meager breakfast comes back up. There’s no relief, just pain, and a sense of shame. Her breath goes quickly and her knees are wobbly. She wants to lie down, or at least sit down.

“Hey,” Mulder says, rounding the car. She presses her eyes shut, but what’s the use? Even if she can’t see him, he can still see her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, rubbing her tense back softly. “Feeling better?”

“No.” Her voice is weepy. The nausea explodes like a volcano inside of her and she just about manages to turn away from Mulder’s shoes to get sick again.

“Oh, Scully,” he says, his hand moving from her back to her hair. “I’m so sorry.” She barely hears him. Her knees want to give in and before they do, Mulder catches her. His arms are securing her, holding her upright.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he says, his voice wobbly. “You’re scaring me.” The last time she felt like this, cancer was wreaking havoc on her body. And Mulder remembers it as well as she does.

“The eggs,” she says and the words alone make her sick once more. “They were bad. They must have been bad.”

“Food poisoning?” he asks her.

“Yeah. Just- I can’t fly home like this.”

“We’ll find a motel, stay another night. Or two. Do you think… do you think you can manage the car ride?”

“I can try.” Mulder’s arms are like a life belt around her, refusing to let her drown. He helps her sit in the car and puts her seat belt back on.

“You look a little less green,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t worry, okay? And tell me as soon as you want me to stop again.” She nods.

She manages a whole 10 minutes before her stomach revolts again. The car skids to a halt and Scully jumps out a moment before Mulder does. He’s by her side, holding her and comforting her. He’s saying things she doesn’t understand, but the irony is not lost on her that he’s spoken more words to her while she’s standing here by the road being sick than he did while they were driving.

“Thank you, Mulder.”

“That’s what partners are for.”

They try again. Her stomach gurgles and hurts, but otherwise behaves. After another 20 minutes of driving, they find a motel. She hears Mulder’s sigh of relief. He treats her as if she were made of glass, leading her to the entrance. She only listens half-heartedly as he asks for a room. They’re handed a key and make their way to their room. One room. She didn’t misunderstand.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he says as if reading her mind. She’s not in the place to complain or refuse.

She feels like a marionette when he helps her undress and get into pajamas.

“You’re burning up, Scully,” he says. She shivers whenever he touches her skin. “Will you please reconsider going to the hospital?”

“Only if it gets worse. I just need to-” and there it is again. The nausea comes unexpectedly and she runs for the bathroom, Mulder at her heels. He flushes the toilet while she scrapes herself off the floor. Without a word, Mulder hands her a toothbrush. He watches her every move and only leaves her alone when she uses the toilet.

“Lie down. I’ll see if they have any Pepto-Bismol. Can I leave you alone for five minutes?” Scully nods, her eyes closing as soon as her head hits the pillow. Mulder wakes her what feels like a minute later, with two pink pills in his hand and a glass of water. She takes the pills, washes them down with the water, and succumbs to sleep a moment later.

When she wakes again, it must be hours later. Mulder has switched on a light and is just sitting there in a too-small armchair, watching her with a distraught look.

“Hey.” His voice is hoarse. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Can I have some water?” He brings her a fresh glass and she down it in small dips despite her intense thirst. She doesn’t want to make herself sick again. “I’ll never again eat eggs at a roadside diner.”

“I won’t let you,” he promises with a smile. But she sees his lips tremble. “Fuck, Scully. You really scared me.”

“It’s just food poisoning,” she says, sitting up.

“I know that, but… you were so out of it. I thought- I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat here and wondered. I kept replaying everything. I know you’ve been angry with me and I get it now. I think I do, anyway. I had a lot of time to think.”

“How long have I been asleep?” she asks

“Almost six hours.”

“What?”

“Like I said, you were out of it. I was this close to taking you to the hospital. I called Skinner and told him what was going on. He said not to worry and for you to get better. Scully, we need to talk about Diana.” His sudden change of topic gives her whiplash.

“I already feel sick, Mulder.” He chuckles softly.

“I’ve been an ass,” he goes on. “I was so pissed off. They give us the X-Files back and send us to play house.”

“You would have preferred to do that with Diana.”

“What? No. Not at all.”

“You treated all of this like a joke, Mulder.” Me, she thinks. He treated her like a joke. Like a consolation prize.

“Because I was so angry,” he says. “Not at you. At everything. I was – am – angry at myself. I knew I was out of line when I said you were making things personal. What is this if not personal?” There are tears in his eyes. He's still wearing that ring and she wonders if he even realizes it. In sickness and in health, she thinks, the thought unbidden.

“I could have lost you.” His words interrupt her thoughts.

“Mulder, it’s food poisoning, not cancer.”

“But it could have been. I’m sorry, Scully. I’m sorry for dismissing your doubts about Diana. I’m sorry for acting like an ass. I’m sorry you got sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault. As much as I would like to pin it on Diana, too.” They share a smile, their eyes locking. She knows that this is just a stepping stone. She still needs time. To recover from this, and from Diana. From everything they’ve been through. But they’ll get there.

“Will we be okay?” he asks.

“We will be okay,” she assures him because they’ve always been. She reaches out her hand and Mulder takes it. His touch doesn’t make her flinch. His skin is warm and soft; his touch is strong. He’s still her Mulder and he’s still his Scully.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello! I hope youll have a lovely day.

Can you recommend some parentlock fics? Especially fics where Rosie is the child.

Thank you!

Hey Nonny!

FANTASTIC, needed another ask for Part 2 of my list! Last week’s Fic Rec list was huge, so I’ve had to split it up; your ask came in so I decided to use it for the next part of my 3 week Parentlock posting spree from my Marked for later list! Check out all these lists and the fics labelled "Post S4" for Rosie-fics, and this community recs post as well :)

Enjoy!

PARENTLOCK Pt. 4B (MFLs, 25K+ w.)

See also:

Parentlock

Parentlock Pt. 2

Parentlock Pt. 3

Parentlock Pt. 4A (MFLs 0-25K w.)

Adoption

Single-Parent Sherlock

Sherlock Soft With Children

By Any Other Name by EchoSilverWolf (E, 26,210 w., 25 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Fluff, Developing Relationship) – After rebuilding 221B, John and Rosie move back in with Sherlock. Sherlock tries to make life easier for John as a single parent.A shared love of John's daughter slowly brings the two to finally admit to secrets they've both kept for far too long.

A Week in November by JRow (T, 26,987 w., 8 Ch. || Post S4, Military John, Parentlock, First Kiss, Hurt John) – John and Rosie have been living at Baker Street for years. John works part-time at a nearby surgery leaving plenty of time to assist Sherlock with cases. Rosie is brilliant and becoming more amazing everyday. And, in addition to being John’s friend, Sherlock has become an amazing second parent to Rosie. John is happy. Mycroft’s request seems simple enough. Tedious even. So tedious that John can’t understand why Sherlock agreed to it so easily. John is the one with reservations – there must be ways they can help that don’t involve his having to appear as (former) Captain John Watson. But it turns out that questioning a potential spy and providing an "extra set of eyes" at the National Service of Remembrance will prove much more emotional and exciting than John imagined.

I Am His by Jaci4Narnia (E, 27,243 w., 12 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Sex Slavery, Sexual Abuse, Emotional / Psychological Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Slow Burn, Mpreg, Mating Bond, Abortion, Parentlock, Knotting) – John Watson, a 24-year-old soldier recently returned from service in Afghanistan, is gifted with a young, 17-year-old omega slave named Sherlock. This is the first of a hopefully three-part series dictating John and Sherlock's life together. Both are broken. Both need each other. There will be slow burn-like VERY slow burn. This is a rewrite of my To See a Smile omegaverse fanfic. Part 1 of Precious

A different kind of adventure by curiousbees (E, 27,340 w., 13 Ch. || Omegaverse AU || Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, Pregnancy, Parentlock) – A series of rash experiments at twenty-three left omega Sherlock unable to form a bond or have a child. He never particularly cared, even if he sometimes caught himself wishing after meeting John. Now at 36, this inability is simply another part of who he is, like his intellect or his tendency for addiction. So after one night's loss of logic with his married best friend, he doesn't think to question it. In hindsight, he really shouldn't have taken it for granted.

The mischievous fairies (Fictober 2018) by MorganeUK (G, 28,305 w., 31 Ch. || Magical Realism AU || Parentlock / Rosie, Mutual Pining, Clueless Sherlock/John, Texting, Kissing, Emotional Baggage, Fluff, Heavy Petting, Non-Graphic Smut) – Rosie is tired of how stubborn her dad and her god-father are! She's decided that it's time to do something and she's found the best helpers! Whether she knows it or not…

The mischievous fairies (Fictober 2018) by MorganeUK (T, 28,305 w., 31 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Parentlock, Devious Rosie, Background Lestrolly, Harry Watson’s in This Fic, Protective Harry, Kissing, Clueless Sherlock, Emotional Baggage) – Rosie is tired of how stubborn her dad and her god-father are! She's decided that it's time to do something and she's found the best helpers! Wether she knows it or not...

Catalyst by fortunatelykeendetective (E, 28,379 w., 16 Ch. || Post S3 Divergence, Major Character Death, Death in Childbirth, NICU, Referenced Homophobia, Soft Sherlock/John, Bisexual John, Mutual Pining, Eventual Romance / Sex, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Parentlock, Marriage) – The (canon-divergent) story of how John and Sherlock finally Figured It Out through a whole lot of grief and loss.

Ten Years by toyhto (M, 28,610 w., 5 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Fake Relationship, UST, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Parentlock) – A friend tells Rosie Watson that her parents aren't together for real, because they don't kiss. But we do, John says.

Beautiful Pictures by JRow (M, 28,713 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending) – An adorable (but unacceptable!) photo of Sherlock and Rosie on the Mail online, a stolen Picasso, and a slip of the tongue force John to re-evaluate his long held assumptions.

Becoming Watson and Holmes by black_rose_blade (E, 29,900 w., 12 Ch. || Post-S4, Romance, Jealous John, Friends to Lovers, Experienced Sherlock, Confused John, Parentlock, Sherlock/OMC) –  A short story about Sherlock and John finally getting together.

Those Nights We Sought All The Words by ConsultingPurplePants (E, 31,740 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TAB, First Kiss/Time, Declarations of Love, Drama in the Rain, Parentlock, Sherlock Speaks French, Nightmares, PTSD, Mentions of Torture, Psychological Torture) – John has been living with Mary again for over a year with their daughter when he makes a discovery that changes everything. He seeks shelter at Baker Street, but after all this time, will Sherlock take him back?

Afghan Bullets, Beards, and Unlocked Bedroom Doors - The Sequel by addicted2hugh (E, 32,233 w., 9 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Virgin Sherlock, Fluff and Smut, Angst, References too Depression, References to Addiction, Reunion, Parentlock (Rosie), John’s Beard, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Grief/Mourning, Toplock, References to Suicide, Friends to Lovers, Drug Use, Flashbacks) – This is the sequel to a fic that originally started out as a bit of fun and a lot of smutty fluff, but then ended up inspiring me to think about what might happen after the deed has been done. In short: The boys need to talk. Part 2 of Afghan Bullets, Beards, and Unlocked Bedroom Doors

The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow (T, 32,447 w., 8 Ch. || Post S4, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Parentlock, POV Sherlock, Sick Child, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock's top priority is The Work, just as it's always been. His current case is a breeze and will surely be solved quickly. Frank Cleary is obviously having an affair and all Sherlock has to do is find him. And Sherlock will...in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting Rosie from school, and preparing for Rosie's sleepover at Baker Street.

Development milestones by HOverSeas (M, 33,266 w., 31 Ch. || Post-T6T, Sherlock Whump, Villain Mary, Child Abandonment, Parentlock, Explosion, Isolation, Stab Woind, Unconsciousness, Stitches, Scars, Asphyxiation, Humiliation, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Happy Ending) – Takes after they come back from Morocco. Mary never died, but her bad decisions still follow her around. John, Sherlock and Rosie need to deal with the consequences.Written for Whumptober 2019. Each chapter is a prompt, posted every day of October.

The Case of The Boy & The Soldier by WhatLocked (T, 36,263 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Sherlock POV, Sneaky Mycroft, Parentlock, Developing Relationship, Case Fic, Lists, Original Child Character, Parent John, Light Mystrade, Kidnapping) – When one William Watson wanders into the life of one Sherlock Holmes, claiming that his daddy has been taken by bad men, Sherlock finds himself caught up in a rather intriguing case of not only locating the boys father but also in discovering a side of himself that he never knew existed. Part 1 of The William Watson Case Files

(Life is) A Series of Risks by SkipandDi (ladyflowdi) (E, 36,499 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Kid Fic, Parentlock, Temporary Character Death, Established Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief, Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD) – The work comes first. Part 3 of the The Infiltrate Series

Stolen by All_I_need (M, 39,412 w., 14 Ch. || Post T6T, S4 Fix It, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Child Abduction, Broken Friendships, BAMF Sherlock, Clueless John) – To save his goddaughter, Sherlock will have to confront his demons - and the man he left behind. [TRANSLATIONS: Русский]

Learning Curve by thpontiacbandit (M, 41,422 w., 22 Ch. || Teacher / Parent AU || America, Fluff and Smut, Parentlock, Frottage) – John is a Kindergarten teacher. One of his students, a boy named Henry Holmes, refuses to speak in school. John is determined to get to the bottom of it, and that is how he meets Sherlock Holmes.

The Lying Doctor by pagimag (E, 44,285 w., 20 Ch.  || S4 Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Past Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Anger Issues, Depressed John, Watson Siblings, Coming Out, Bi John, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Parentlock, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

Shift by stopthat (E, 46,028 w., 31 Ch. || Post S4/Canon, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Light Angst, Unconventional Relationship, Best Friends, POV John, John Being an Idiot, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Emotional Love Making, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Slow Romance, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, Parentlock) – Sherlock is tired. John senses a shift.

Here We Go Again by disfictional (E, 46,687 w., 10 Ch. || Mama Mia-Inspired Fusion || Post-S4, Older Rosie, Alternating POV, Reunion, Retirement, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Coming Out, Parentlock, Weddings, Fluff and Angst) – Ransacking some old trunks, Rosie Watson finds her father's old journal filled with remnants of a blog he used to keep about his association with Sherlock Holmes. In an attempt to meet the man who had a profound impact on her early years, Rosie invites the long-estranged detective to her wedding under false pretenses.

Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst,  Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes.

Alternative Universe with 221 Bees by fresne (T, 49,089 w., 221 Ch. || Assorted AUs || Assorted Tags, 221B Ficlets) – They are books in a used bookstore, who should not be shelved together. When they aren't socks. Or ice. Or dinosaurs. Or a bee and an ant. Faunlock, Parentlock, Teacherlock or... other things. An iterative series of 221B stories. One 221B per chapter. Last story is told entirely in words starting with B.

How I impregnated your mother by Mildredandbobbin (E, 50,047 w., 13 Ch. || Very Light Dom/Sub Sexy Times, Parentlock, Pregnancy, Infidelity, Angst, Romance, Captain John Kink, Masturbation, Violence, Homophobic Language) – Follow up to 'Maybe in the meantime wait and see'. Set a year later, Sherlock and John are together and things are good, great even...except...Sherlock's in a one sided competition with John's dead wife, John hasn't proposed yet, and now Harry and Clara want Sherlock and John to father their children. Part 2 of the Maybe series

Genius is a Star Whose Light (is Soon to Sink in Endless Night) by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP, Aftermath of Serbia, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock, Explicit Torture, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series

Hold You Like a Weapon by MissDavis (E, 52,522 w., 10 Ch. || Post S4, Friends to Lovers, Parentlock, Childbirth, Toddlers, Canon Compliant, References to Drug Use, POV John, Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Angst with Happy Ending) –  Eurus shows up at 221B Baker Street in labour. Things go downhill from there.

Know You All Over Again by PoppyAlexander (M, 53,028 w., 21 Ch. || Post-S3 Canon Divergence, Post-Break Up, Angst with Happy Ending, Therapy, Mary is Moriarty, Ex Sex, Parentlock) – After five good years, one difficult one, and six months that were hell, John and Sherlock live apart but still share custody of seven-year-old Rosie. With therapy, supportive friends, and those inevitable dance recitals and open school days forcing them into each other's paths again and again, anger and bitterness fade, leaving space for a new view of each other across the divide.

Where You Can't Quite Reach by SilverDragon00 (T, 55,338 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Canon Divergence, Depression, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Son, Panic Attacks, Angst, Bullying, Drama, Teenagers) – Sherlock took his life four months ago, and John's found himself in a pit of self-destruction and depression he doesn't care to climb out of. Then Mycroft shows up with someone John didn't even know existed - Sherlock's thirteen year old son - and asks John to take care of him. John doesn't know if he can handle living with another Holmes, especially this one who looks so like the one he lost. John has to pull himself together and deal with his own emotions, while trying to raise his best friend's teenager. Until everything he works hard to create for them is turned upside down by the one person he never expected to see again. Part 1 of the Oliver Scott 'Verse series

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (M, 68,552 w., 6 Ch. || Magical Realism / Discworld Elements || Post TLD, Miscommunication, L-Space, Developing Relationship, Parentlock, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Bookshop) – After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only constitutes of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Crazy For Love by prettyvk (T, 98,696 w., 34 Ch. || Post-TRF, Parentlock, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst) – It starts with five words.“Is my father really dead?” Or maybe, that’s how it ends. Part 1 of the The James Holmes Chronicles series

Multiply (the sum of our parts) by 1electricpirate (M, 103,147 w., 15 Ch. || Post TRF, Kid Fic, Angst, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Parentlock) – After Reichenbach and in order to 1) Keep Sherlock alive, 2) Keep John alive and 3) Get Sherlock home to England as soon as possible, Mycroft devises a plan that will not only incentivise John's continued sanity and survival but force Sherlock to come running. It is a perfect plan, though perhaps less than ethically sound. He has no doubts that using frozen samples of your younger brother's sperm to create children for his husband to care for falls deeply within the realm of socially unacceptable behaviour, but it is efficient, and that is what matters most. Part 2 of the Applications and Practices of Basic Arithmetic series

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68 (M, 203,273 w., 57 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE|| Parentlock, Cloning, Kidlock, Developing Relationship) – The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street. Part 1 of Nature & Nurture

Dear John by BloodSeiryu, FourCornersHolmes & Tindomerelhloni (E, 218,315 w., 130 Ch. || Drug Use/Abuse, Rehab, Pen Pals, Friends to Lovers, First Time, Military Kink, Jealous Sherlock, Alternate First Meeting, Phone Sex, Idiots in Love, Angry John, Falling in Love, Marriage, Switchlock, Anal Sex, Separation Anxiety, Depression, Angst, Depictions of Torture, Prisoner of War, Healing, Parentlock, Happy Ending) – An AU in which Sherlock is in Rehab and is required to write a letter to a random person in the military. John get's it, and they become penpals of a sort. Part 1 of the Dear John Series series

Dearest Life by InnerSpectrum (E, 277,077 w., 82 Ch. || Omegaverse AU || Alpha John, Omega Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Implied / Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Mpreg, Feral John / Sherlock, BAMF John / Sherlock, Parentlock, Pregnant Sex, Kidnapping, Eventual Happy Ending) – Sherlock is an Omega whose Alpha has died severing their bond. Sherlock is depressed for an Omega who lost their mate is considered worthless in their society. If young and fertile, unbonded omegas are sent to breeding camps, forced to bear pups they will never raise; something his brother, Mycroft, will never let happen. Or there is the option of becoming the Second Mate of an Alpha who is already bonded. The omega would be welcomed into the home, bear all the pups the Alpha wished and live comfortably and protected. There is no love and the second's mate place is very low compared to the spouse, but it was better than the alternative. Still mourning his beloved Alpha, Sherlock refuses to be someone else's spouse, let alone a lowly Second Mate, but time is running out before he’s forced to go to the camps. Sherlock is forced to marry John Watson, a wealthy Alpha doctor, who is married to Mary, an infertile Beta. Both of whom hide dark secrets from each other. Part 1 of Dearest Life Universe

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (E, 298,346 w., 62 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Case Fic, Parentlock, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Kissing, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal, Switchlock, Violence, Torture, John Whump, Murdered Children Off Screen, BAMF Rosie) – When two lines, inclined towards each other, are extended indefinitely, it is inevitable that they meet. Upon meeting, the lines become something new. Together. Perhaps it’s been like that from the beginning for Sherlock and John—their lives weaving together, inclined towards one another, moving closer and closer to something greater than themselves. But that’s all a bit romantic, isn’t it? On another topic, Sherlock and John find themselves faced with a series of seemingly disparate cases that are growing increasingly connected, increasingly personal. They must unravel the mystery laid before them by a particularly ruthless set of criminals before the danger is upon them, or else run the risk of being cleaved apart forever, lines scattered to the wind.

The James Holmes Chronicles by prettyvk (E, 338,222 w. across 7 Works || Post TRF Divergence || Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Parentlock, Grief/Mourning, Angst and Fluff, Suicidal Thoughts, Past Sexual Abuse) – It starts with five words. “Is my father really dead?” Or maybe, that’s how it ends.

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w., 30 Ch. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don't get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much. 

[randomfoggytiger]

Hey there! I saw your post about sending you prompts. And since I've been following your first Fictober with great excitement, I couldn't help but comply with your request. If this isn't what you're looking for, please just ignore it:

Scully contemplates the ever-changing meaning of her cross. From getting it from her mother to Mulder wearing it when she was missing to her getting it back from Mulder after her abduction.

Thank you for writing!

Thank you for the prompt! Here we go~!

"Watch Over You Wherever You Go"

(Fictober, Day 28)

*****

Maggie watched Dana reclaim her necklace, under no illusions that her baby girl embraced it for its old purposes: a symbol of her childhood religion. (The quick look Dana gave to and away from the Catholic devotion beaming in her eyes laid that hope to rest.) 

For now. 

As a girl, her daughter had been a little tomboy. She'd swung ropes and thrown rocks (but had drawn the line at spitting) with the best of them-- the change began when an innocent snake had died by her own hands. Dana withdrew, crushed; and started asking questions about God, about Heaven, about being locked out forever because she’d done a bad thing. So, Maggie purchased cross necklaces for both her girls and gifted them at Christmas. Dana was awed, grateful, joyful (Melissa not so much); but she got into the habit of fiddling with it, twisting it around, and it was broken within a matter of weeks. By the time Maggie bought her a birthday necklace barely two months after the first, little Dana was determined not to break it, curbing her more fractious impulses and slowly shedding her rough and rowdy tomboy habits like a second skin. 

Teen years were tough for her baby: Dana had braces and seemed more interested in sneaking onto the porch with her mother’s smokes than any particular boy at school. Maggie was glad she’d figured things out by her senior year-- Marcus-- before she headed off to college, taking the second necklace with her. 

Collegiate Dana had wanted to find herself; and Maggie knew that would include questioning her childhood faith. The day she'd been dreading was the day her daughter spent the holidays Christmas shopping with Melissa instead of joining the rest of the family for Mass; but she knew God was just, Dana was good, and that everything would work itself out in the end. All the same, it was that day when Maggie sensed the necklace had been reinvented: a symbol of Dana’s love for her mother, not for a shared god. 

When Dana dropped out of medical school, Maggie had been as incensed as her husband: medical school expenses, years seemingly down the drain, and a dangerous, lower-paying career to boot. It was one thing for Dana to play with her soul and another to play with her safety. Nothing they said could convince or deter her. Everyone had an opinion, and her daughter was fiddling, twisting her necklace again. Then Melissa arrived. Scolding her family into peace, she promised her parents to have a talk with-- "only a talk"-- her little sister before they all parted ways.  

Dana recruited anyway. And after a year on the field and a few months back in the labs, she was gone. 

Then Maggie met Fox Mulder; and he'd surprised her by handing over her daughter’s necklace, subtly apologizing for having to ask about something so fundamental to his partner. She’d admitted Dana's lack of faith while staring at her cross; and tried to assure Fox this wasn't his fault, trusting him with its safekeeping.

And now here they were, on the other side of death. 

Maggie kept her eyes fixed on her baby girl, knowing Melissa would fill her in on the nuances of the young couple later. Dana’s forefinger and thumb were already inching up to her necklace, subconsciously waiting for Fox’s second exit before fiddling, twisting like old times-- as if she feared he’d catch her doing the wrong thing in a moment of weakness.  

Maybe that’s why she left the faith, Maggie realized, staring at the exhaustion puddling under her daughter’s eyes. Perhaps Dana felt she wasn’t good enough; and that the faith would reject her. 

Perhaps that was why she was striving here, even on her hospital bed, to be a rock of strength for Fox. He, at any rate, accepted everything about his partner, even forgave the sense of failure weighing her down; and her daughter came alive under his gentle smiles and encouragement. 

Fox left; and Maggie followed his lead, gathering up Melissa so Dana could be left in peace. They all needed time to sort through their emotions in private; and she, for one, had a lot to examine in-depth. 

The image of Dana cradling her cross and staring at Fox like he’d hung the moon burned itself into her mind-- Maggie knew, as clearly as if it had been said, that the necklace was no longer a connection between herself and her daughter. It was now a lifeline between Dana and her partner, forged over the months and miles they'd survived apart. Not that this was a surprise-- it was exactly what she'd intended, months and miles ago when she’d handed her little girl’s necklace back to Fox. “When you find her, you give it to her”, and she’d meant for the rest of your lives. 

And beyond, Maggie mentally added. After all, she believed in the goodness of God.  

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[rose-of-pollux]

I've been posting fanfics since 2008, and up until 2016 (when I finally got an AO3 account) I almost exclusively posted on fanfiction.net. Since then, I usually try to cross-post long fics.

Long story short... in my attempts at trying to cross-post my current Indiana Jones Scooby parody/tribute, it's been one headache after another as far as FFN is concerned (chapters appearing and disappearing, the entire fic itself appearing and disappearing, only half my notifs coming through, zero notifs coming through...).

It's clear to me that FFN is currently being held together with toothpicks and string right now, and if you, like me, have been posting on FFN since before AO3 became mainstream, they are in more danger than ever of being lost if you haven't backed them up.

And while I have backed them up on my computer, there are a lot of stories on there (mainly my very, very old fics) that aren't posted anywhere else. Initially, I was of the thought that "Okay, well, those fics are very, very old and are nowhere near as good as my current stuff, so... yeah, I've got the backups, once FFN goes down, they'll be put to rest."

Except that I got to thinking about a Pokémon fic that I read back in 1999 or 2000 that shaped me so much--

...That fic was on a handcrafted fan site that disappeared when those kinds of sites were unsustainable. I never read it again, and if I could have the chance to read it again, right now, I'd gladly do so (and being actually able to comment on it).

...And then, it hit me, if I let those old, old FFN fics die along with the site, I'd be potentially doing the same thing to my old readers and those who would potentially find them later. At the same time, I would still want those old, old fics separate from my newer stuff, simply because my newer stuff is at a quality honed from decades of practice.

And then I found the answer, thanks to AO3's pseuds feature--

I haven't done anything with it yet, but once Fictober is over and I have a bit more breathing room, I fully intend to bring over the complete fics that, according to my old story stats pages, are among the most popular of my old stuff. I don't intend to bring over everything (there are some fics which are just pencil doodles compared to my newer masterpieces, plus I doubt that any of those really old WIPs will ever be updated, so there's no point in bringing the WIPs over), but I'll be open to requests if people really, really want me to archive a fic or WIP I ignore over onto AO3.

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

For the writer shop talk asks!

🦐 💥 🌵(Enigmatic Confections) 🔪🎻

Hi, thank you so much! 🥰

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

I've never made myself cry while writing, but I make myself laugh a lot. I definitely cracked myself up thinking about, planning, and writing the little dragon biting Nikola on the ass and I still giggle when I reread the whole thing. 😂

Another part where I made myself laugh was in the last posted chapter of Enigmatic Confections, where I had Nikola and the children interacting. I don't know why it amused me so much, but I thought it was funny and cute, these three interacting and dealing with each other. It was a really fun thing to write and I think it was the most recent bit of writing where I made myself laugh.

💥- What does your writing schedule look like?

I spend a lot of time every day writing, mostly because I don't have much else to do. There's no schedule, really. I just do it when I can, though sometimes there are other things that distract me or the inspiration just won't come.

So. No schedule, but a good chunk of my time is theoretically spent writing.

🌵- What did you start with first for your WIP? Worldbuilding, character, or plot? (Enigmatic Confections)

Oh, um.... I think it was plot and/or worldbuilding? Enigmatic Confections is the spruced up, extended version of a different fic called Not So Sweet , and I have index cards with the Fictober prompts written out with the outline for each chapters (the only fic I've done this for!). So I took the world from the previous story and built the plot after I sat down and wrote out a list of the prompts.

The original story was based off of @starbuckxcarter's request for a Helen/Nikola rivals + lovers AU, so I had a lot built up before I even started Enigmatic Confections.

🔪- How do you feel about writing fight scenes?

I'm okay with them! I actually don't think I've written many/any in my fanfictions, come to think of it.

It can be interesting, but sometimes it's hard to keep track of where someone is or what they could plausibly do or sustain during a fight.

I've mostly done fight scenes in my original writing so... go violence!

🎻- Where do you look when you need some inspiration?

I'll reread my own writing, read/watch the source material, or just screw around watching random things or scrolling through tumblr, listen to music or something. It doesn't take a lot to get the gears going.

[aurumacadicus]

Fictober 10/31 -- “It’s my name on the line.”

Why Bruce? Because he knows what it’s like to hide because people fear you.

Also while I do like Antman and Antman and the Wasp, I also really liked BFFs Tony and Janet more so 🥺 That’s what we’re going with instead. Like I said! A pocket of time post-2012 Avengers.

It’s over 2K so look out for the cut!

--

“Dr. Banner,” JARVIS said, breaking through the haze of calculations Bruce was working on in his head.

Bruce blinked, trying to refocus his eyes from the microscope he’d been looking through to his glasses that had fallen back into place when he’d stood up. He tipped his head back to look at one of JARVIS’s cameras. “What?”

“Ms. Weber would like to speak to you, but she wants to make sure that now is an okay time.” There was a pause. “She has advised me to tell you she’s got cookies.”

“She doesn’t need to bribe me if cookies if she wants to talk,” Bruce began. “I’m in the middle of something, though, so if she could—”

“They’re molasses cookies with pieces of candied ginger in them,” JARVIS cut in.

Bruce began hastily shutting down his equipment. “I’ve got the samples of goo out so just tell her that I’ll come up to her.”

“Very good,” JARVIS replied, sounded both smug and amused.

It was only when he was standing in front of Lottie’s door, hand raised to knock, that he realized he hadn’t asked if it was okay. Maybe she wanted to meet somewhere more neutral. The common room probably would have been better. They were two very dangerous people, after all, and the last time (the only time) he’d been in her apartment in the tower, it had been to use the Hulk to subdue her if she had another panic attack.

The door opened before he could ask JARVIS to relay a request to meet in the common room. Lottie stood there, blinking at him. She frowned, brows furrowing together in concern. “Are you okay?”

Bruce realized, belatedly, his hand was still raised to knock. He dropped it to his side quickly, shuffling his feet in embarrassment. “I was just—is it alright for me to come in?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” Lottie asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. “I’d tell you if it wasn’t.”

“I suppose you would,” Bruce had to agree, rubbing the back of his head. Lottie had been very upfront about telling them that she had lost any sort of filter and that if she didn’t like something, she had no problem saying so. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her stabbing, but he wasn’t fool enough to ask her that. He followed her inside when she turned, leaving the door open for him, and immediately stopped in surprise when he saw that Tony’s contractors had already fixed the wall and painted over it. It was a nice lavender now. “Oh. That’s a lovely color.”

Lottie clasped her hands together and did an excited little two-step. “Right?! I’ve always wanted a purple room! And look—” She rushed over to the opposite wall, which had a very lovely floral print on it, little white and pinkish-purple flowers on thin black stems. She waved her arms at it, gushing, “A wallpaper feature wall! I love it so much, I’m so glad Tony let me do this.”

Bruce did not tell her that Tony would give her the shirt off his back if she asked for it, because she’d probably learn that in time. He liked when the people he cared for were happy and had offered to remodel for Bruce if he didn’t like something in his own apartment. He was used to worse, so he took it as it was, but he was glad to see how happy Lottie was with the changes she’d made to hers. “It’s lovely. You’ve got a good eye for colors and textures.”

“Thank you!” Lottie exclaimed happily, then sort of blinked, stunned. “Oh my gosh that’s what I wanted to ask you about. I was so excited to show off I almost forgot. Sit down and have a cookie.”

Bruce didn’t need to be told twice, sitting down at the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. “Delicious,” he said after eating it in two bites.

Lottie stared at him, glancing back and forth between he and the cookies, before she reached out and pushed the plate closer to him. “Have all you like. I made too many.”

Probably just enough, considering how the Avengers ate, but Bruce wasn’t going to say anything about that either, taking another cookie and taking a more company-appropriate bite. “Thank you.”

Lottie watched him a little longer, then dropped into the papasan chair across the table from him. “Okay, I have no idea how to ask this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. How did you get comfortable with your name being in the papers?”

“I didn’t,” Bruce answered immediately, then paused as the question really registered. He looked up at Lottie, taking another bite and chewing slowly as she took in how disappointed she looked. He swallowed and cleared his throat, then very carefully asked, “Why?”

“I—I’ve been trying to stay out of the media for a long time,” Lottie began, looking down at her lap. She lifted a hand to curl a lock of her brown hair around her finger, letting the ringlet slide from it and then rewrapping it over and over again. “I don’t want my pictures up everywhere, don’t want people talking about me. But I—there’s this contest. And I wanted to enter it. But if I do, I’d have to put my name on it. What if I win? All the write-ups about it will have my name too. It’s my name on the line, my—my privacy. But I want to enter,” she finally finished, voice small. “I have this great idea, and it would be cool to show people. Even if I don’t win, at least people would see it.”

Bruce remembered the link she’d sent all of them to her cloud, which she apparently shared with all her friends and family. He’d taken a peek, just once, to see what was in it—pictures of dresses, and photos New York, and videos of her cooking food. All of it was interesting, but all of it was carefully guarded behind passwords changed once a month, and he’d felt uncomfortable with her anxiously changing passwords, like he was intruding, that he hadn’t looked again.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be starving for interaction, not leaving the tower but once a month to go shopping with her ex-neighbor. Most women her age had jobs outside their house, had friends to visit, parties and concerts to go to, friends to invite home. They had Instagram pages where they could show off, Facebook profiles where they could update their friends and family on their lives and interact. Lottie had a cloud that was password-protected, that you had to be invited to see, and perhaps not all of her friends got the new password every month.

Lottie was here. Alone. All of her friends and family back home on the west coast, with Phil her only real tether here. Her life hidden behind passwords, without even an anonymous account somewhere for her to show off her successes. She seemed happy enough, most days.

She looked really unhappy now.

“Maybe you can enter anonymously,” Bruce offered. “Or with a proxy. Maybe Tony’s legal team could look into it.”

Lottie sat up a little straighter, but then she sort of sagged back into herself, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to be a bother,” she finally said, frowning down at her lap again.

Bruce fumbled for a way to comfort her, breaking another cookie in half to do something with his hands and shoving one whole half in his mouth. He glanced around the room, frantic, then looked back at her. “Well, what’s the contest? What’s your idea? Maybe I’ll be able to tell you if Tony would think it would be a bother or not.” Nothing would be a bother, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him at this point.

“Oh, well,” Lottie began, wringing her hands in her lap. “It’s silly.”

“It can’t be, if you care about it,” Bruce told her gently. “I’d love to hear your idea, Lottie.”

Lottie squirmed where she sat, then got to her feet and carefully paced around the living room three times before she sat down again. “It’s a fashion competition. It’s being held by Van Dyne Fashion. They have it every year, and this year, the theme is the Avengers.”

“Ah,” Bruce said, recalling it vaguely. “Tony had us sign some paperwork for it so they could use our likenesses. Proceeds go to charity, right?”

“Yes, for victims in Avengers battles,” Lottie answered. “The winner also gets a cash prize I think, but I don’t actually want the money. I just want to enter some dresses and have them be seen.”

Bruce hummed and idly ate another cookie. “I’m pretty sure the only reason this is happening is because it’s specifically for charity and because Tony actually knows the Van Dynes personally. Maybe, if you can’t enter anonymously, Tony could just… ask. I think he’s been looking for an excuse to go to their boutique. He said something about how ‘Janet wants me in a pinstripe suit, but she only trusts herself with that.’”

“I think Tony would look killer in a pinstripe,” Lottie mused, then seemed to remember what he was saying and looked at him again. “Do you think that would be okay? It’s a big project but I’m willing to make it my only project until the contest, but only if I can actually enter it.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Bruce assured her. “In fact, why don’t we wrap up some cookies and go ask him together? I’ll be your moral support.”

Lottie brightened like the sun, bouncing to her feet and bounding over to the kitchen. Bruce couldn’t help but smile after her. He figured it meant they would be seeing a little less of her, but she had a way of showing up in the common room with her sewing machine sometimes, and he’d even once found that she’d convinced Thor and Clint to cut some lace for her and they’d been very focused on making it perfect, so. Maybe she’d need help with this project, too.

“Do you think it would help if I told Tony I already designed the Iron Man dress?” Lottie asked as she walked back over to him, another plate of cookies covered with plastic wrap in her hands.

“As long as you show him the pictures? Yes,” Bruce deadpanned, because Tony was a nerd who loved seeing the Iron Man armor.

“Great! Hold these! Don’t eat any, you had like ten already and your mouth will hurt from the sugar coating if you eat more,” Lottie added, shoving the plate into his hands and bounding out of the room.

Bruce blinked after her, then turned and looked at the plate on the table. He winced when he realized that what had once been a full plate now had three cookies left on it. He turned as she came back in, raising his eyebrows when he saw her already opening her sketchbook. “You don’t need to show me. I believe you.”

“No, I designed the one for the Hulk already, too,” Lottie said, turning it around so he could see it. “I wanted to show it to you first. Thanks for helping me, Bruce.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce answered faintly, arrested by the first picture his eyes landed on of the dress in question.

It was… elegant. He hadn’t really expected it to be—the Hulk was not elegant at all. The bodice and skirt were done in purple, but the sleeves and a petticoat(?) were done in green. The sleeves looked wispy, lacy almost, sort of ballooning out at the ends until they gathered at the wrist again. His eyes darted over the other pictures—a back view, that showed the back of the dress had a deep V to show off more of the green fabric, that it gathered into something like a rosette at the base of the spine. The green petticoat came down further in the back, almost like a train. The side view added more depth, how there was apparently supposed to be some sort of scroll-work designs on the green fabric, embroidery or lace or something, he thought.

Even if he hadn’t known it was based on the Hulk, he would have been impressed. But he knew, and it made something warm bloom in his chest, that someone could see the destruction the Hulk wrought and still make something beautiful out of it.

“What do you think?” Lottie asked, still smiling, but it had gotten nervous around the edges, eyebrows pulling down in concern. “Is it too much?”

Bruce tried to speak, but he couldn’t around the lump in his throat. He sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Oh my god you hate it,” Lottie said, arms dropping to her sides.

“I love it,” Bruce managed to choke out, and hoped he came across as sincere and not totally panicking because she looked like she was about to cry. “It’s beautiful. I never would have come up with it myself. If the Iron Man dress is even half as good, Tony will commission it himself and put it up in the lobby.”

“I don’t want him to put it in the lobby. I’d rather wear it myself,” Lottie said, confused. “He’s my favorite Avenger.”

Bruce lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please I’m begging you not to tell him that he’s your favorite Avenger. We will literally never hear the end of it.”

“I’ll just focus on the dress,” Lottie promised, hugging the sketchbook to her chest.

Bruce sighed. “He’s gonna be insufferable about that, too.”

“Well,” Lottie began, then shrugged. “I mean. It’s him.”

Bruce wished he didn’t understand what she meant, but he did.

[papytonpropaganda]

Since Walls 2.0 is in the planning stage, that means I'll be updating other projects of mine. I have to do requests first though.

After requests, I have several longfics along with series/anthologies I could work on.

Longfics:

Papyrus vs the Forces of LOVE - Underfell Pacifist route focusing on Papyrus

What Heights of Love - King Mettaton ending, with Papyton

A Heart of Glass - Human Fairy Tale (specifically Cinderella) Papyton AU

As Different as a Moonbeam from Lightning - Mettaton & Undyne friendship

Friendship Caught Fire - Human High School Papyton AU (NOT POSTED)

The Vastness Is Bearable Only Through Love - Sci-Fi Papyton AU, based loosely on Among Us (NOT POSTED)

(I have lots more ideas but those are in the planning stage)

Series/anthologies:

Femslash February 2019

Kingdings Week 2021

Undertober 2021

Goatbun Week 2020

Undertale Prompt Month 2020

Flufftober 2021 (Papyton-Themed)

Papyton Week 2021

Writer's Month 2022: Papyton Stories

Papyton Xmas

Undertale September 2022

Frisk Month 2022

Fictober 2021: Undertale Drabbles

One of my NSFW series on my NSFW AO3 (DM me if you want the account name)

So I want to know.

[chaos-monkeyy]

I was gonna limit myself to one, and the result was I did double that! 10 and 11!

What work was the quickest to write? And, Which took you the longest?

(AO3 wrapped writers ask game!)

ohhhhh damn I'm gonna have to wrack my brains on this one, shit 🤣🤔

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Okay so What did you call me? (OFMD) was probably the quickest to write, because it was just 200 words and was more comedy than smut 😆

For something a little... heftier, my recent Sandman fic Unseen was one that absolutely seized me, once I knew what I wanted to do. Hammered that sucker out in a few hours and then cleaned it up and posted it the next day, and I am quite pleased with the result 🎉

11. What work took you the longest to write?

Oh jeez that's probably my Lokius fic New message, which was a request by the endlessly patient @starport-seven-five , because it languished for.. I don't even want to think about how long, probably somewhere close to an entire year ahahaha. But once I actually got started on it for real, it went pretty quick!

The other option is Unfairly good, the Dresden/Marcone smutty sequel to a little fade-to-black oneshot I originally posted for Fictober 2021. I started the sequel not long after part 1, but it took months of picking at it literally sentence by sentence at a time, until I finally finished and posted it in July of this year 😂🙈

...

But really, yknow, what is time anyway amirite or amirite

[onthesandsofdreams]

Little FYI:

Tomorrow ends Fictober (with a Morpheus x Reader fic), and since pretty much I did a whole month worth of prompts twice (I also did original fiction), I will be taking some days off to rest.

I have some plans for fics here and there, mainly two Sandman series of unconnected drabbles and short fiction (100 - 500 words): one for Morpheus x Reader and the other for Hob x Reader, so if you started to follow me for that, keep your eyes peeled.

And no, sorry, requests are not open at this time. My chronic health issues have worsened and since my problem lays in my head, I cannot compromise to fics on a deadline. I will be posting what I come up with after my rest.

If you have questions, do feel free to ask, just please know that I’m not always here or may not have the spoons to answer, but I will answer.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk ♥

[captainsophiestark]

Art is Chaos

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022! Requested by anon

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: "Adaptable, I like that"

Summary: Ward's going undercover in his nightmare scenario - as a hippie art teacher named River. He'll need all his training to pull this one off, but the combination of a pretty girl and a terrible coincidence of his co-art teacher being named Grant might be too much for even Agent Grant Ward's training to manage.

Word Count: 3,541

Category: Uhhhh probably like fluff with humor and a little bit of angst?

A/N: Guysssss this is my 500th post! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Here’s to 500 more I guess lol!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Grant's POV

"I'm going undercover as an art teacher? Sir, you've got to be kidding me."

"What's the matter? Don't think you can pull it off?"

I scoffed and crossed my arms, looking at Coulson still sitting behind his desk. He just stared back at me, his face completely blank. I hated how easy it was for him to get under my skin.

"Of course I can do it," I replied, knowing full well I was giving him exactly what he wanted. "I just don't think 'art teacher' is really my type."

"What is your type, Agent Ward?"

I fell silent, unable to come up with an answer that didn't sound like a five-year-old would say it. I huffed and looked at the ceiling, then turned back to Coulson with a slight scowl.

"Fine. We'll stick with the planned cover. But if Skye or FitzSimmons says anything, I'm throwing the nearest can of paint in their faces."

The corner of Coulson's mouth quirked up. "Duly noted. Now get going, we don't have a lot of time. The sooner you get teaching, the sooner we catch our target trying to arrange an illegal technology buy in the middle of your class."

"Yes sir."

I nodded and headed out of the room, trying not to look too bothered as I passed Skye on my way to grab my bag. The last thing I needed was her or anyone else asking questions about my cover.

The world outside the bus was about to meet River West, the hippie art teacher from Portland, but I didn't need anyone on the bus besides Coulson to know about him.

****************

Y/N's POV

I smiled to myself as I pulled open the door to the painting studio just a few blocks from my apartment. It had been open for a while now, and had been offering art classes for months, but today was the first time I'd actually gotten around to taking one.

The studio was bright and airy, with tables and easels set up all around the room. Several of the easels were already taken, and two men stood chatting at the front. I wandered over to an easel in the middle, which stood right beside one a friendly-looking woman already stood at.

"This easel taken?" I asked as I approached. She turned to me with a friendly smile and shook her head.

"Not at all, be my guest."

I nodded my thanks, then dropped my bag and took a second to look over the various art supplies piled around my canvas. I hadn't painted in a long time, but I'd seriously loved doing it when I was in high school, so I couldn't have been happier to have the chance to do it again.

Once I was satisfied with my setup, I turned back to the woman next to me with a smile.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," I said, holding out my hand for a shake. She took it and smiled back at me.

"Sarah. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Sarah. So, have you taken one of these classes before?"

"Oh, yeah. I absolutely adore painting, so any chance I find to get behind an easel and spend the day like this, I take it."

"That's awesome," I said, completley meaning it. "I want to paint more often, so maybe I'll follow your lead."

"You should. The teachers are all great, too, although that guy on the left is new."

She nodded towards the tall, handsome man with dark hair, and I watched as he set up the last few supplies for the class. After a second, I realized I'd been staring, and turned to find Sarah grinning at me.

"I guess he's already got one fan," she teased. I felt my face heat up, and I waved my hand at her in a shushing motion, but she just laughed. Mercifully, I was spared from further teasing by the beginning of the class.

"Alright everybody, welcome to Art and Soul," said the guy I hadn't been staring at. He smiled out at all of us, his bright red hair fitting in with the bright colors around the rest of the room. "I'm Grant, and this handsome man to my right is River."

River, the one Sarah had caught me staring at, gave us all a smile and nodded with his hands behind his back.

"We're going to be your instructors for today," Grant continued. "Don't hesitate to ask us if you have any questions or need anything, and remember, there's no 'right way' to do art. The most important thing today is that everyone has a good time. So, without further ado, let's get to painting, yeah?"

We all let up a small cheer, and I smiled as I focused in on both instructors. They walked us through the basic steps of a painting we could create if we wanted to, and I decided I might as well follow the prompt, at least for today. After doing a quick pencil sketch to get an idea of the lines and shapes I wanted to build, I was finally painting again, and damn it felt good.

After the first few minutes, the teachers started walking around to look over our paintings and see if we needed any help. I tried not to freak out too much when I saw River, the handsome teacher, coming my way.

"Hey, this is looking good," he said, coming to a stop beside me. He gestured at the different brushstrokes on my canvas before looking at me with a smile. "You've got some real talent here."

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I glanced down at the floor. River didn't budge, just stayed right over my shoulder until I finally looked up at him. He grinned right back.

"Thanks," I said. "I haven't done it in a while, so we'll see if it stays this good, but..."

"Hey, what's the matter, you didn't hear my co-teacher earlier?" he asked, hands on his hips and a small smile on his face as he fixed me with a look. "There's no such thing as bad art."

My lips slowly pulled up into a smile, and I nodded to River.

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I'll be back in a few, alright?"

I nodded my thanks, and River shot me a wink before striding off to the set of easels behind me. I stared straight ahead at my canvas while I tried to get my giddy expression under control. I finally widened my horizons from my tunnel vision when I felt more confident, only to find I hadn't done a very good job.

"So... River, huh?"

I threw my hands over my face as Sarah gave me a sly look. She just laughed, and I sighed as I picked up my paintbrush and tried to distract myself by adding some brushstrokes to the canvas. Sarah nudged me and I shook my head, but I couldn't keep a smile off my face.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally sighed. "He's handsome."

"That he is," she chuckled. "No judgement here. You go get him."

We carried on working with minimal River interruptions for a while, as my painting of the ocean beyond the trees of the forest started to take shape. I set down my larger paintbrush and looked over my remaining supplies for a wiry brush to make the leaves of the trees, but it was missing.

I looked around, but both River and his co-teacher Grant were busy. Sarah was across the room talking with another student, and I didn't want to interrupt any of them, so that meant I needed to improvise.

I furrowed my brow as I looked around for inspiration, finally finding it when my eyes landed on my bag. I dug around for a few seconds then pulled out a handful of bobbypins and a hairtie. Perfect.

I used my hairtie to bind the narrow ends of the bobbypins together, and then dipped the splayed-out unconnected ends into the green paint. I gave them a few experimental swipes over my trees in the furthest corner to make sure I liked the way it looked, and was pleased to find that I did.

Art hacking like a pro.

Now that I had all the tools I needed, I completely zoned in on perfecting my pine trees. The world around me faded away as I worked, and I lost myself in my painting so much that I didn't even notice River showing up beside me until he spoke.

"You're using bobbypins as a paintbrush?"

I jumped, jerking my makeshift paintbrush up and thankfully away from the canvas. I laughed as the adrenaline faded a little, looking to River with a smile.

"Geeze, you scared me," I breathed.

"Sorry. You were really into your painting, weren't you?"

"I mean, yeah. You must know how it gets when you're in the zone."

River looked down and nodded, but didn't say anything. His lips were pursed and he didn't meet my eyes until a few moments later, with a smile on his face again.

"So... the bobbypins?"

"Oh! Yeah, I didn't have a wire brush, and you and the other teacher were busy," I explained. "I was gonna borrow one from Sarah, but she was talking to somebody on the other side of the room, so I improvised."

River glanced from me to Sarah when I mentioned her, but his eyes quickly came back to me. His smile had dropped for a second before returning, and he leaned in a little closer to me.

"Improvising art supplies," he said, sounding impressed. "Adaptable, I like that."

I pressed my lips together tightly to try to suppress my smile and glanced down at my feet again. When I looked back up at River, his eyes were still on me, a kind smile on his face. We held each others' stares for a few beats, and it was like he had his own gravity, pulling me slowly towards him. The distance between us closed, bit by bit, and I thought we were actually going to kiss in the middle of an art class before something seemed to snap River out of it.

He pulled back quickly, his eyes darting to a place over my shoulder before looking back at me. He cleared his throat, for once looking as flustered as I felt.

"I'll, uh- hm, I'll be right back. Sorry."

With that, he hurried off to the other side of the room. I watched him go, unable to help the disappointment pooling in my chest. What had happened?

I tried to shake it off as I turned back to my painting. I'd finished with the trees, so I didn't have to go back to the bobbypins, and Sarah was mercifully on the other side of the room so she couldn't tease me about anything.

The class continued, and River mostly kept to the other side of the room. Sarah floated between the easel next to mine and one in the back left corner, but she never failed to bring up River when she came back to our neighboring canvasses. Despite the unexpected stressors, however, I still found myself enjoyinig the experience.

Finally, it was time for me to put the finishing touches on my painting. Once the last brushstrokes were in place, I took a step back to admire my handiwork. It certainly wasn't perfect, but that was just part of the art. I'd had fun making it, and I liked the way it looked, so as far as I was concerned, it was a success.

The only thing left to do now was to sign it. I glanced down at my station, but all my brushes were filthy with other colors, and the pencil marks would fade faster than I wanted them to. I debated digging into my bag and seeing if I could find some liquid eyeliner, but for my signature on my masterpiece, I didn't really want to find an improv solution.

I glanced up and scanned the room for River, but he was in the far back corner again, hovering around the easel that Sarah kept visiting. Sarah, this time, was next to me, one eye on River. I sighed heavily and decided I didn't want anything to do with that, especially since I was here for a nice, relaxing day of art. I turned and found the other teacher, Grant, instead.

"Grant!" I called across the room. The redhead turned, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw River whirl around too. I turned to look at him, and found Sarah staring at him from next to me too. Nobody moved for a few beats, and a strange silence fell over the room. Then, the man at the canvas Sarah kept visiting whirled around with lighting speed and levelled a punch at River.

"Oh my God!" I cried. I thought for sure he was about to be laid out, but he ducked the punch with lighting reflexes of his own. Before I could blink, he returned fire, knocking the guy out in a single punch as the rest of our class screamed and ran for the exits.

"I knew it," I heard Sarah mutter as she dug into her bag. To my shock and horror, she pulled out a gun and started heading across the room for River.

The room was basically empty now, aside from me and Sarah. River had disappeared in the chaos, although Sarah was clearly searching for him as she prowled across the room. I took a few terrified steps backwards, away from her, trying not to make any noise or sudden movements.

I kept moving backwards, and thankfully, Sarah didn't notice me. I felt like I was about to have a heartattack, but I forced myself to stay calm as I slowly edged backwards. It all crumbled in an instant, however, when a hand clamped over my mouth and a strong arm wrapped around my waist before pulling me backwards.

I started to scream, but it quickly died in my throat as I was yanked around a corner, out of sight of Sarah. My back hit the wall, but not very hard, and I came face to face with River staring at me intensely.

"I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth," he said, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. "Don't scream, alright?"

I nodded, and slowly, he pulled back his hand. I stared at him, trying to calm my racing heartbeat, but considering the events of the last few minutes I really couldn't do much.

"What. The hell. Was that?" I hissed, finally finding my breath. River grimaced and looked at the ground.

"A rookie mistake," he muttered. I raised my eyebrows and gave him an exaggerated look, so he sighed and continued. "My name's not River."

"What?"

"My name is Grant Ward-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Grant? Like, the other art teacher Grant?"

River–Grant, apparently–huffed an irritated sigh. "Believe me, I was so much more pissed about that than you."

"Why did you need a fake name to be an art teacher?"

"I'm not an art teacher. I'm a SHIELD agent, here undercover to find your friend Sarah and her buddy in the back of the classroom. They've been using this space as a cover for meetups and scheduling illegal trades of highly dangerous alien technology."

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn't do more than gape at Grant in shock. He gave me a sympathetic look, then took a step back.

"You need to get out of here," he said. He nodded down the hallway, where there was a back exit out of the building. "Go meet up with everyone who's out on the street. You'll be safe out there."

"Wait! What about you?"

"I'll be fine. This is my job, I'm used to it."

With that, he ducked back around the corner and into the room where Sarah presumably still waited with a gun.

I stared after him, completely unsure what to do for a few beats. I glanced back at the door behind me that Grant had pointed out, and took a few steps in that direction when I heard Sarah's now-familiar voice.

"You really had it bad for her, didn't you, Grant?" she taunted. "That was an embarrassingly stupid mistake you made, giving away your identity just because a pretty girl called your real name."

I grimaced. I needed to get out of here. Grant was trained, and I was not. I had no idea what I was doing. I'd probably get in the way and be more harm than help.

"And now, that little mistake is going to cost you. Let's send a little message to SHIELD, shall we? About what happens when you try to meddle in places that were better left alone."

Against my better judgement, I turned back towards the classroom and quickly crossed to the doorway Grant had snuck me out of. I don't know if it was curiosity, stupidity, or something else, but I just had to go back. I peeked around the corner to find Sarah with her back to me, arms up, and a gun pointed at Grant. There was enough space between them that Grant had no shot at getting the gun from Sarah, and I could see in his face that he knew it.

"Any last words, Grant?" Sarah taunted. He took a deep, fortifying breath, and in that gap, I followed my gut instincts and threw caution to the wind. I sprinted into the room at full-speed and tackled Sarah from behind with all the force I could muster.

We hit the ground together, and she shrieked as we went down. It only took a few seconds for her to flip me off of her, and I saw my life flash before my eyes as she whirled on me. Then, at the last second, she collapsed unconscious to the ground instead.

I looked up to see Grant standing over her, a painter's palette that he'd used to knock her out in his hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, quickly dropping to a crouch in front of me. I smiled at him and nodded, the terror turning into giddyness as the adrenaline dump hit.

"I'm great. Is that a painter's palette?"

"What? Yes, it is. Y/N, what were you thinking? That was incredibly dangerous-"

"Adaptable," I said, breaking in and giggling as I fixed him with what I hoped was a flirty look. "I like that."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but I caught a faint smile on his face despite how hard he tried to hide it. He straightened and held out a hand to help me up, which I took.

"You should've gotten the hell out of here," he said. We stood almost chest to chest, and he hadn't dropped my hand.

"And where exactly would you be if I had?"

"I would've been fine." I just raised an eyebrow at Grant, and after determinedly holding my stare for a few moments, he sighed. "Alright. You might've saved my life."

I grinned, although I wasn't completely sure why. This was not the kind of situation that should've had me smiling.

"So..." said Grant, dropping my hand and taking a half-step back as he surveyed the scene around us. Police sirens sounded outside, and we could hear the nervous chatter from the evacuated crowd, too. "I need to clean this up. But... I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee afterwards, if you'd be interested. Since you saved my life and all."

I beamed back at him as I answered. "Honestly? You definitley owe me a coffee and a little more explanation after all of this."

Grant let out a small laugh as he stepped a little further away from me and grabbed some drop sheets from the far side of the room to start tying up Sarah.

"You're on. I'll call you when I'm done here," he said. "In the meantime, you should probably head out. I've got a badge to get us out of any questions the cops might have, but it'd probably be better if your name didn't come up at all."

I nodded and took a few steps towards the back door, grabbing my painting and bag as I went. I paused just on the threshold and stared at Grant as he continued to round up the apparent criminals and made sure their weapons were accounted for.

"Grant... do you... need my number? Or something?"

He paused his work to look up at me with an arrogant grin.

"I'm an agent of SHIELD. I'll find you." I raised an eyebrow, and after a second, he dropped the act. "Your number's on the class roster. I'll call that."

I laughed and nodded, giving Grant a small wave as I headed down the back hallway. I probalby wouldn't be coming back to this painting class, if I were being completely honest with myself, but I didn't mind. I could pick back up painting on my own just fine, from the safety of my own home.

Besides, the class wasn't going to be a total wash. I'd found Grant, after all, and every time I thought about him my heart leapt. And since everyone had come out of it okay, I felt perfectly comfortable saying a little chaos was worth the result.

Chaos was my favorite kind of art, after all.

[sullustangin]

Fictober Prompt #10: “It’s so quiet.”/Flufftober Prompt #13: Pillow Talk

Fandom: SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Rating:  M (pre- and post-smut scenes) This is so soft, and I’m probably rating it too highly out of an abundance of caution. 

A/N: In a slight canon divergence, Eva didn’t accept Theron’s proposal on Odessen; she took a leave of absence for three months to process everything.  She had no contact with Odessen or Theron, with no indication she would ever come back.  And then....

**

After his shower, he found her on the balcony, her robe teasing her thigh as she looked out over Aargonar’s beautiful desolation.  The stars were as jewels over the desert landscape, and the three moons silently stood guard.

The night air had rapidly chilled without the sun, so Theron was quick to collect his –

His wife.  As of 36 hours ago, Eva was his wife.  

48 hours ago, he hadn’t known whether she would even take him back; she’d sent a message stating she would not make their rendezvous on Aargonar, something that had been negotiated through proxies for nearly a month.  

Then they found that they’d both put themselves on the same mission to save Odessen.  

Things progressed, as they always seemed to when they were on mission together….and….

The planetary governor had married them in the morning, him still wearing a shirt he’d torn up to bandage her, her still wearing a dancer’s costume (stars, their wedding holo would give someone a heart attack, if they weren’t adequately prepared).  

Bowie had cried. Risha tried to pretend she wasn’t crying (and failed, miserably).  Guss and Corso had gotten completely trashed in record time, and Akaavi and Mako had wandered off to have some serious conversations of their own.  

And now they were in the top floor suite he’d booked, two separate bedrooms parted by a living area… in case….

But that was far from necessary now.  

Eva looked back at him as he stepped out onto the balcony to join her.  Silently, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, and they looked out at the world together.  “It’s so quiet. First time since before I landed on Ord Mantell and met Corso that –” She wrapped her arms around herself, overlapping his, squeezing the pair of them together even tighter.  “ – it’s so quiet now.  Peaceful.”     He felt her twist to the right to look up at him. “First time in almost fifteen years.”

“Twenty.  I had my implants installed when I turned eighteen. Constant noise ever since.  Minus the times you managed to get me to turn them off.”

“And now?”

“35 hours and counting.” He’d taken an hour after the wedding to send information and tie up loose ends before he went off the grid entirely.  That included shutting down his implants.

Eva leaned back into him. “We made it.” Eva turned around entirely in his arms and looked up at him.  Her hair was loose, and her face was clean of all makeup and the Dermaplast she normally wore over her scar

Theron bowed his head to kiss the top of her head, his hands coming up to hold her chin and jaw.  A thumb trailed across her cheekbone.  “You’re still the most wonderful thing I’ve ever been allowed to touch.”  

His heart skipped a beat or two when she whispered back, “I still love you.”  Then she went up on her toes to kiss him, and he met her halfway, his fingers gripping the diaphanous fabric of her robe.  Deeper needs soon came to the fore.  

But they had to banter. They always had to banter.    “Bit drafty out here for what you’re not wearing.” Her fingers ran around the waistband of his briefs.

His hand slid up her thigh, under her robe.  “You’re not much better off.  We should go inside and fix that.”

**

Much later, she requested, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”  Then Theron contentedly hummed as he felt Eva’s head gently land on his chest, her soft curves pressed up against him.  He reached blindly for the sheets, pulling them out of their neatly tucked corners to drape over their rapidly cooling bodies.  

In the back of his mind (and probably hers too), he knew the storm would kick up again.  Something, somewhere in the galaxy would blow up, and the Alliance would somehow end up entangled with it.  

For now, the newlyweds focused on being entangled with each other, repeatedly; they had been parted for nine months, after all.  

Theron’s sleepy, happy haze was parted as he felt Eva tenderly trace his collarbone.  “What names are we here under?  I might actually leave the room sometime tomorrow.”

“Why would you do that?” Theron let his hand wander down her body a bit as his eyes slid open.  

“I said might.  But I am curious about the cover, given what we’ve done.”  Gods, how he loved her smile.  

Theron brought his other hand up to stroke her face.  “Do you remember Metis and Antony Vaner?”

“Oh good grief.”  Her forehead tipped forward to touch his chest for a moment.  

“What can I say, Trant really, really did a good job making the IDs the first time.  I think their marriage license looks more legit their ours.”

The pair quietly looked at each other in the dim light that came in from Aargonar 3.  “So are we keeping them around?  Are… are they the cover we’re going to use from now on? When we go on mission together?”  Hope was in her voice – hope that he remembered the promises from last night… even if they were made in desperate, heated moments.

Theron nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m… I’m not going under deep cover again without you.  I’ll still do more superficial jobs, sure.  Short term. Burner IDs, yes, but --- never that again.  Never.”

Her hand reached up to grasp his.  “Tell me again.”

“I love you.  Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

**

A/N 2:  The Vaners were the fake IDs Trant gave Theron and Eva in “The Cosmic Deck,” which takes place during the Revanite conspiracy.

[bigfootwrites]

My 2020 Fanfic Masterlist [AO3]

I change my url too many times to give you the Tumblr links so all links will direct you to ao3. This is a masterlist of all the fics I’ve written in 2020.

MASTERLIST:

Beyond The Stars. [30/03/2020]

Mulder and Scully are on a field trip to see stars but of course that’s not why Mulder is there.

College AU | General | Semi-Complete: Two Chapters |

I’ll Always Be With You. [02/04/2020]

Looks at the events of Scully’s moment with Emily before Mulder walks into the care home.

Pre-Episode | General | Complete: One Shot |

Whirly Bird Series. [14/04/2020]

It was something you learned before coming here, a hobby you would sit there for hours doing. Your mother liked this hobby, it was quiet. You’d tuck yourself away in a corner and fold paper after paper until you got it right, until you got it perfect.

AU | Second Person POV | General | Scully/Samantha | Unlikely To Continue: Two One Shots |

Mulder and Scully Abduct Adopt An Alien. [02/05/2020]

ADOPT not abduct. There is no abduction taking place here. Mulder wants an alien, Scully wants to know what is going on, the alien just wants to eat Lucky Charms.

Pretty much a Monsters Inc AU | General | Incomplete: Two Chapters |

Rain and Metal. [07/05/2020]

But then she’s coming. Gripping his rain-soaked t-shirt as her muscles grip other parts of him. He is doing this to her and it’s beautiful and wonderful and it makes him believe that rain and metal are enough for her after all. That maybe he can be enough for her after all.

Canon Divergence | Mature | Complete: One Shot |

A Baby Is Forever. [27/05/2020]

Prompt request for AU where Mulder gets Scully pregnant in high school and they are ‘forced’ to marry but fall in love.

High School AU/Slight Kid Fic | Mature | Complete: Six Chapters | 

ABIF Prompt Series.

Pumpkins and Aliens. [14/06/2020]

Dana Scully is dropped off at an orphanage with the promise of her mother returning in a year. Instead she ends up being shipped halfway across the world.

Historical AU | General | Concept Idea | Unlikely To Continue: One Chapter | 

Zombie AU That Isn’t Really A Zombie AU. [25/06/2020]

You ever wanted to go zombie hunting with your mom?

Zombie AU | Mature | Non-linear story | Incomplete: Three Chapters |

Paper Hearts + Broken Parts. [22/07/2020]

Fox can’t sleep so she draws.

Paper Hearts Ep | General | Female!Mulder | Complete: One Shot | 

daisies. [27/07/2020]

But it’s as the mouse wanders over to universities closer to the East then the West she knows there’s something not quite right with her, something that makes that pen slip over the lines ever so subtly, not enough for anybody to notice but if one was to look hard enough they would see it.A mattress on the floor, her belongings scattered around, an important thing lying on the mattress. She picks up her coat and Fox watches as she walks away, leaving her there in a rundown apartment, the most important thing walking away from her

AU | Teens and Up | Female!Mulder | Incomplete: One Chapter | 

Gone. [05/08/2020]

Summary yet to be written.

High School AU | Teens and Up | Unlikely To Continue: Two Chapters |

The 1836 Beaumaris County Gaol Riot. [18/08/2020]

Secrets are kept. Information withheld from one then withheld from another. Sometimes it was easier to go about the days thinking everything is normal. The unexplained doesn't always need an explanation. What is abnormal for some may be normal for others.

[Summary may change]

Historical AU | Teens and Up | Concept Idea | Incomplete: Two Chapters |

Ireland. [24/08/2020]

A decision to go to Ireland lets the children meet their grandmother, Mulder meets Scully's other brother.

Jewel Universe | General | Incomplete: One out of Two Chapters |

One Moment in Arecibo. [24/08/2020]

They don’t speak about it. Not tomorrow, not the next week, not the next month. But it lingers with them, in their arguments and their touches. When he touches her back she is instantly reminded of that night, of that one moment in Arecibo.

Post Little Green Men | Explicit | Early MSR | Complete: One Shot |

Passageways. [25/08/2020]

Time Travel au! What if, rather than someone from the future falling into the past, somebody from the past fell into the future?

Time Travel AU | General | Incomplete: One Chapter |

50 Days Of Prompts. [15/09/2020]

Prompts taken from a prompt list that I intend to work my way through.

Prompt List | General | Incomplete: 25 Prompts out of 50 |

Baby Cries. [19/09/2020]

How Scully deals with Emily's death.

Post Emily’s Death | General | Complete: One Shot |

FICTOBER 2020 (31 days of prompts) [13/10/2020]

31 days of prompts all through October. A prompt list I'm planning on working my way through for the month.

Fictober Prompts | General | Unfinished: 12 Prompts out of 31 |

California Dreaming / Post-Col Fic [02/12/2020]

Season 9 canon-divergence. 2002 becomes the last documented year. The Colonists come and wreak havoc over everything that was once known and normal. From buildings being blown up to certain parts of the world not in existence anymore. When a simple patrol assignment goes wrong, Mulder finds himself bargaining his way to the top while Scully sinks lower and lower.

Post-Colonisation Fic | Mature | WIP: Four Chapters |

Time Can Heal. [12/12/2020]

Mulder realises that his quest for the truth costs too much.

Irresistible: Canon Divergence | Mature | WIP: Ten Chapters |

Danse Macabre: Adventures of Mr Mulder and Dr Scully. [16/12/2020]

Mulder investigates the murder of Derek Barney who's death may not be as straight-forward as people would have him believe.

Historical AU | Dark | Mature | WIP: Three Chapters |

It Happened One Night / Escort Fic. [21/12/2020]

Scully is an escort who is hired by Mulder because he is going through a divorce and may lose his kid. It was supposed to be one night, they were never supposed to meet again, yet fate has other plans for them.

Escort AU | Mature | WIP: Two Chapters |

100 Days of 100 Word Dialogue Prompts. [31/12/2020]

100 days of 100 prompts.

Prompt List | 100 days | General | WIP: 28 out of 100 |

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

This story was written for @starbuckxcarter for the AU prompt list. They requested this on 7/3/23... This was a request through a comment on the post, not an ask, hence my summary here. The request was for a 'Teslen enemies/costars AU please'. So here it is. I will be writing a much larger AU based off of this (for Fictober, most likely).

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The scene looked cozy and relaxing. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, sitting at a table with baked goods and wine, smiling at each other. The background was charming. He was pouring wine into her glass, she had just set a pair of pastel macarons on a plate in front of him.

"They look wonderful, Helen. They'll pair very well with the Moscato." he said, still smiling.

"Then you should try them instead of talking about them." she invited, giving him a flirty smile in return.

They knocked their wine glasses together and each sipped before turning to the pastries on their plates.

It was only a few seconds after they had each finished one that anything else was said.

"Cut! That's a wrap!"

As soon as those words were said and the camera was turned off, both of their smiles vanished. They moved away from each other as if they couldn't stand being close for another moment.

The man, Nikola Tesla, picked his glass back up and knocked back the rest of his wine. Then he picked up the other glass and knocked that back too.

The woman, Helen Magnus, glared at him.

"That was mine."

"Trust me--I need it more than you do. All that time with you is putting me over the edge."

Helen snorted, standing up from the table and neatly brushing her skirt off.

"I am far more pleasant than you. And what did you do all day?" she countered, glaring at him.

"Be ordered around by you."

"You measured flour and stole my ingredients while worshipping alcohol." Helen snapped.

The crew ignored the back and forth between the two of them. While the two might have presented a charming, friendly, attractive pair on TV, they certainly didn't carry an ounce of that in real life. This argument was nothing new.

Nikola picked up one of the macarons, pale pink, and held it up.

"You make girly cookies. I, however, explore the complexities of alcohol and its relationship with food."

"You run a glorified drinking show!"

Nikola's eyes flashed at this. Helen gave him a smirk, clearly liking the effect that she was having on him. He stood up. The crew continued to go about their business, rolling their eyes or ignoring the pair.

Nikola was the well known host of the show Enigmatic Eats, a very popular show where he chose a different alcohol--whether it was type, flavor, brand or more--and cooked a meal to pair perfectly with it. Food, according to Nikola, was an art, but alcohol was the masterpiece and should never be overwhelmed or lost to the meal.

"It's better than what you do." he said hotly. "Your show just feeds the convention that women belong in the kitchen, baking pretty feminine things instead of anything else."

Helen gaped at Nikola, outraged by this.

Helen hosted her own show, Tokens of Confection, baking and making confections. She was the exact opposite of Nikola in some ways. Her show started simple each season, progressing in difficulty so that viewers had the chance to work along with her. Her kitchen was bright and simple, hallmarking an bygone era.

Nikola's, on the other hand, was dark wood and stainless steel, appearing more lab than kitchen in some aspects.

Theirs were the two most popular single-hosted, non-competition shows the network had, both having started in the same year. The shows aired from autumn to spring, leaving a gap in the network's ratings for the summer. Rather than shifting one show and tired of reruns, the network had put them together for a new show.

Enigmatic Confections--a name chosen as a compromise, though Nikola gloated that his went first--followed the premise of Nikola's show with the alcohol, but it was Helen baking things that complimented the choices.

This was the second season of filming for the pair and the behind-the-scenes hadn't gotten any easier. The two were more than willing to go for the other's throat if they had the chance. How they managed to pull it together for when the camera was on was a complete mystery.

Rather than engage in the current battle, Helen walked away from the argument, stepping behind the camera, minding any cords and things there might have been to trip her up.

She didn't have to take this and today she wasn't going to let it bother her. She'd had enough of this pointless arguing for the last few days.

They would be at it again soon enough. She didn't need any more right now. Of course, that wasn't what Nikola thought. He followed her. They were done filming, so now they were basically obsolete.

"Helen."

Helen ignored Nikola and kept walking. She didn't want to get into it right now.

"Helen, wait." Nikola said, grabbing for her arm.

Helen whipped around, feeling a surge of annoyance that was bordering on anger. She yanked her arm away from him. Nikola dropped his hand, but he looked curious.

"Did I really offend you that much?" he asked.

"Leave me alone, Nikola." Helen snapped, turning and walking around.

This time he let her.

_____

The next day, Helen was trying her hardest to ignore Nikola. He seemed remorseful for her reaction to his words, as if he somehow knew he had hit a sore spot.

Helen had to grudgingly admit to herself that it wasn't as if Nikola could have known that things like that had been said to her her entire career. Especially when she had chosen it as a career over anything else.

She had been told that she was feeding a stereotype. That if she wanted to prove that women could do anything, then she wasn't allowed to showcase that by doing what they were already told they could do.

Helen hated the hypocrisy. If you wanted to demonstrate that women could do anything, then you weren't allowed to do what women already did, even if you were good at it.

She doubted that Nikola thought about that sort of thing. But Helen was well aware that she was setting an example, especially when she had a young daughter of her own.

It was not just a baking show. It was a way to show the world what she could do. To encourage other to do the same. To show herself that she could make it on her own, especially as a single mother of two.

"Cut!"

Helen looked up, startled by this direction, pausing in her mixing. Nikola stopped romanticizing the flavor of the sake he had chosen for today. It was a challenge to pair sake of all things with baked goods, but Helen had enjoyed the challenge.

"In the middle of my dialouge?" Nikola said indignantly, setting down the glass.

The producer behind the camera didn't look very happy as he surveyed the two of them.

"Helen." the producer said. "You need to stop looking like that."

Helen set her whisk down and stared at him.

"Looking like what?"

"You're furrowing your brow and biting your lip. You look like the dry ingredients have done something to you. Take if from the top."

Helen stared.

"I've already mixed--"

"Throw it out and start again."

Helen did not throw it out. That was just wasteful. She put it away to use later, after the filming had stopped.

Nikola was actually much more helpful the second time around. He lined up the jars nicely for her and measured out what she needed, actually using the mixer to whip the egg whites without her having to ask him.

They got the sponge into the oven and then set about making the rest.

By the time they were sitting together, with the match tiramisu she had made and Nikola's chosen, chilled sake, Helen was feeling much better.

She had no idea why, exactly. Nikola was still being annoying. Snarky. But the simple gestures of helping without her asking him had made her feel better.

Of course, it didn't last. Her smile may not have been as forced as usual at the beginning, but they had to refilm before they had even cut into the tiramisu. Mostly because Nikola had reverted back to his usual charming self.

Helen was relieved when they had finished for the day. Once the camera crew had cleared out, she went back into the kitchen. She wasn't going to make anything like the tiramisu, but the ingredients were there and she would make a simple sponge. Take it home. Henry in particular loved plain sponge.

She was mixing the rest of the ingredients in, humming to herself, when she heard a noise.

Helen looked up. Nikola was leaning in the doorway, watching her with raised eyebrows and a small smile that looked almost... predatory.

"What?" she snapped at him, continuing to mix, glaring at him.

"Just wanted to see what the great Helen Magnus was up to. I didn't think that you would be baking in your off hours. Don't you have a rug rat or two to get home to?"

Helen poured the mix into the pan.

"They're with my ex-husband." she bit out.

"Now that doesn't surprise me."

"What?" Helen was genuinely puzzled by the comment.

"That you have an ex-husband. It makes a lot more sense than you actually keeping one considering your oh-so-pleasant demeanor."

Helen threw her spatula at him.

Nikola ducked, but she hadn't been aiming for his head and it struck him on the left side of the chest, smearing a pale streak of sponge batter down his dark suit jacket. He gaped at her, looking at the smear.

"Do you have any idea how much this costs?!" he yelled at her, clearly not certain what to do to get it off without making it worse.

It made her feel a little smug.

"More money than it should for something you wear around good prep." Helen said smoothly, bending and sliding her pan into the oven. She closed the door and set the timer.

If it hadn't been for the bloody contract and the fact that the potential renewal of her show--her livelihood--hung in the balance, Helen would have quit the show. She didn't want to have to deal with Nikola's arrogance so often.

They had aways been rivals. How could they not be, when their shows had started in the same year and everything else? They each had high satisfaction when they beat the other in ratings and things like that. Work functions had brought them together and introduced them to each other. Now that they had been forced together things had just escalated.

Nikola stalked towards her. The counter stayed between them and Helen knew that it was probably a good thing. They had never gotten physical with each other--at least, not enough to harm each other--but Helen was tempted.

She was in a bad mood. What Nikola had said grated. Everything he said or did. Not just today or yesterday. The fact she wouldn't be coming home to her children.

Helen stared Nikola down, holding his gaze.

She was shocked to find herself noticing just how blue his eyes were, even alight with anger like they were right now.

Helen was furious with herself for this.

Nikola dragged his fingers through the batter on his chest and, slowly and deliberately, ran his hand across her face and into her hair.

"Nikola!"

Helen jerked back, holding out her hair to see how far it had spread. Nikola smirked, looking very satisfied. Helen glared at him and searched for something else to hit him with, to make him as messy as possible. She had nothing on hand, unless she wanted to put the bowl on his head.

"That was--" Helen spluttered.

"Turn the battle into a war, Magnus, and be prepared to receive what you deal."

With that, Nikola sauntered out of the kitchen.

_____

The tension rose between them each filming day, the weeks passing quickly. The stakes were higher.

After another round of smearing each other with ingredients--this time in front of the entire crew---both Helen and Nikola had been sat down and scolded as if they were children. If they couldn't get their acts together, if the show was cancelled, both of their own shows would be on the line.

Helen had the sinking feeling that hers would be on the chopping block first. Because that was how it worked. Nikola was more charismatic. He was a man. If they couldn't get alone, it would be her that was thrown out in the cold.

The pressure to be polite, to ignore Nikola trying to get under her skin, was getting to Helen.

But she was good enough for the cameras.

If she didn't know better, Helen would have thought that Nikola actually noticed and was trying to dial it back. He was kinder to her off camera, in the short window they interacted when the camera was off.

Today was actually a set of confections of floral flavors to compliment Nikola's chosen gewurztraminer. She could have made more macarons, but since she had already done those this season, there was no redoing them.

They did what they were supposed to do with minimal fighting between takes and scenes. Nikola was actually helping and Helen caught herself staring at him more than she normally would, watching him and wondering.

He was still annoying--more than--of course. But Helen was, for the first time, trying to look underneath that. The Nikola that she had initially met wouldn't have been helpful. He wouldn't have been remorseful. But now he was and it was confusing and the hell out of Helen was putting her even more on edge.

Which was ironic, because Helen was fairly certain that Nikola was actually trying to put her at ease. She put the meringue kisses into the oven and moved on to the next confection.

They didn't exactly have a script and Nikola loved to go off of it, but he was being nicer than usual. Oh, his usual attitude didn't vanish, but the things that he was saying were reading differently than they usually did.

And Helen caught him looking at her like she was looking at him.

She was baffled. This wasn't how they usually worked. But she found that she didn't mind it. That was the strangest thing.

Nikola grinned at her as he took the bowl from her, taking over mixing so that she could measure. Helen, flustered, smiled back.

Her smile was still very much real when they were sitting at the table together, sipping their wine and sampling what she had made.

"Cut!"

Helen dragged her eyes away from Nikola when this was said and looked behind the camera. It seemed that they had done no wrong, because they got a thumbs up.

Nikola sipped his wine one more time and got up. Helen stayed where she was seated, biting down on her lip for a moment. She sipped her wine, watching as Nikola walked away.

She looked calm and collected, but her mind was racing. The idea of what she was considering doing was thrilling and scary at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, Helen set her wine down and followed Nikola. She had timed it at least, so the crew wasn't around them.

"Nikola."

He half turned towards her, arching an eyebrow. She had never come after him like this. A part of Helen was telling her just how bad of an idea this was. They had spent the majority of their time hating each other, after all. This could go very wrong.

"Yes?" he asked at her prolonged silence.

"I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat with me later. Perhaps a drink." Helen said.

He looked her up and down.

"You do realize that was what we were just doing, don't you?" he asked.

Helen gave him a look.

"I was thinking perhaps somewhere you don't have to analyze and choose the alcohol and I don't have to make the food." she said.

Nikola was quiet for a few moments, during which Helen became convinced this had been a horrible idea. But then he gave her that signature smile.

"All right."

Helen stared, surprised by the answer.

"All right?"

"I do believe that's what I said." Nikola waited a beat. "But you're paying."

Helen smiled in return.

"All right."