#otp: home stretch

[or-ng-c-ss-dy]

kinktober 2023 day twenty-three

e rated, 1.2k words, chorange

link to chapter, fic is member locked

#otp: gentleman's club #my writing #kinktober #entering the home stretch here

[wraithsoutlaws]

From the soft otp prompts & for the bbs ☺️ 3 & 4!

3) Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment / 4) Write about your ship holding hands in a happy moment.

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Blood exploded from Dagger’s mouth and he saw stars for the second time as Dum Dum knocked him on his ass. The constellations mocked him in a dim flicker above. For a moment he couldn’t move. That chrome fist shattered a tooth–not for the first time, though depending on the outcome of the night, it could be the last. He didn’t think Dum Dum would kill him. He may have underestimated him until now.

Before his vision had time to clear, he felt himself ripped upward, heaved into another punch that left him coughing, choking on his own blood.

“I trusted you–” Dum Dum spat. His voice sounded like a car crash, and he hit just as hard. Dagger’s skin split open above the eye, and his left optic turned suddenly to static. The seven red lenses staring down at him overtook what was left of his blurry vision. He could barely make them out in detail, just the bleeding glow around him like watching the world through a rain soaked windshield. “You never gave a shit about any of it!”

His tone shifted. There was a human crack in the words that sounded foreign on the otherwise mechanical growl of his voice. Dagger felt it like a knife in his chest, wedging him open. Something else he wasn’t used to.

His lungs heaved with heavy breath. Voice wet and ragged. 

“You ever hear about the scorpion and the frog–”

Blood sparkled on chrome knuckles and Dagger’s hand came up on instinct to stop the incoming blow. The impact radiated down his arm but his fingers tightened and he held true. It might be the last time he’d ever feel that touch. Part of him wanted to remember. A fingertip brushed across the scarred metal of his hand and Dum Dum went still, like for a moment the rage fell way to something softer.

They were never very good at softer.

Dagger’s grip tightened suddenly, savoring the feel of him one more time before he sent his free hand flying into Dum Dum’s face and knocking him sideways.

He forced a smile tight over dripping red teeth. Wild as a dog. 

“Is that the best you got, tin man?”

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Dagger scanned over the horizon, flat land dusted with the setting sun. He’d purchased the lot on a deal. Holding a man at knifepoint makes negotiations smoother–something he’d learned long ago. Twenty miles out and you’d hit Vegas, but it was quiet here and empty. Nothing but sun-bleached barren road, forgotten and neglected by anyone who wasn’t Raffen. He had no problem dealing with Raffen. They’d learn soon enough where they sat on the food chain. 

His eyes dimmed automatically against the golden light as he tried to picture the sprawling carnival set so clearly inside his head. It’d take time, years maybe, but it was doable.

He heard the dirt crunch behind him and turned. Even those blaring red eyes paled in comparison to the sun. 

“You ever imagine I’d go legit?” He asked as Dum Dum stood beside him, stretching out the cramps in his legs. The truck sat on a ridge a few feet away, a veil of dust filling scratches in the paint. It was a long drive out, but they were home.

He shook his head, tone flat. “I never imagined you’d live past thirty-five.”

“Well, I am a man of surprises.”

“Hard to figure, though.” Dum Dum took a step forward. “You finally choose to spend a fortune and it’s five miles of fucking sand. ” 

He knew Dum Dum didn’t share the same longing for the wide open. He watched him scratch at the vents of his cyberware, brushing out the dirt trapped inside. 

“You just ain’t picturing it,” Dagger said, determined. He threw an arm over his shoulder and pointed him toward the west. “That right there’s where we’ll have the stage. Good music, not that fucking laser pop electric shit.”

He heard a laugh at his ear, and turned to the right, pointing out an especially flat section of desert. “That’s where the haunted house will go. Behind it will be the coaster. Biggest one on this side of the continent.” He was grinning now. The structures were clear in his vision. It finally felt real.

“You sound like some shitty salesman.” Dum Dum quipped.

“Bite your fuckin’ tongue,” Dagger shot back with a playful grin. He walked a few steps over, leading Dum Dum with him, where he drew a line in the sand with the tip of his boot. 

“And this will be our door.”

“Our door?”

“Our trailer.” There was an innocence in his voice he couldn’t quell. 

Dum Dum looked at him, smile creeping over his lips. 

“I figure you’d prefer solid walls to a tent.” 

He examined it again quietly. The image in Dagger’s mind was so vivid, had been for a long time. Longer than he realized now that he was here, and it wasn’t the stage or the haunted house that made the bats in his gut fly wild. It was him. And it wouldn’t be the same if he was gone. Dum Dum stepped through the imaginary threshold and looked around, gazing at the promise of what might be. 

“Place is a fucking mess,” he joked, as if standing in the middle of a crowded room.

The bats fluttered through him gentle.

“Some things never change.” He joined him inside, surrounded by the shared daydream. His hand inched toward him, glancing off the edge of his fingers before a pinkie linked gently around his own. The rest followed like dominoes. It was the only time Dagger’s chrome hand felt like flesh again. Dum Dum’s grip tightened around it.

Some things never change.

Some things do.

“C’mon,” Dagger said, hardly more than a breath. “I’ll show you where the bed goes.”

#oc: dagger #x: perfect drug #my fic tag #OKAY SO i may have stretched the definition of 'holding hands' but uh. you know how it goes >> #i am merely a vessel while the blorbos speak thru me heh #these are separate but kinda go together thematically..... #anyway as for the fight in the first one dd finds out that dagger was planning on fucking over maelstrom/just using them (him) #the second one happens much much later in their timeline #i know the ask prompt is 'soft' but listen. boys will be boys.

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Today was such a busy, stressful day, that I felt so drained by the time I sat down to write this. BUT I did it and that's what matters. Thank you again for following along on this little journey with me. We're in the home stretch ❤️

19. Surprise hug

George swallowed hard, anxiety burning in his chest as he looked around at the mess surrounding him. He took a shaky breath. It was going to be okay, he tried to tell himself, even as his skin felt like it was crawling, an itch moving under the epidermis. He squeezed his eyes shut, maybe he would feel better if he didn’t look at it? He shook his head, his eyes snapping open once again, not looking at it was even worse, in his mind the disaster that was the kitchen took on a life of its own, growing and evolving and becoming even worse. He didn’t even know where to start, it wasn’t his mess, it wasn’t his responsibility but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to exist in the house, knowing that Matty had left the space in such a disarray. A flash of anger sparked in his stomach. Matty knew how he felt about things being a mess, and yet he left the kitchen in a sorry state anyway. 

He picked up the dirty mixing bowl that was left on the counter and brought it over to the sink. He wouldn’t do the dishes, he decided. He would just compile all of them in the sink for Matty to finish when he reappeared from wherever he had disappeared off to. Maybe he would be less bothered with all of the dishes in one place. He could then wipe the flour and what looked like melted chocolate off the counter, and throw the egg shells away, and also sweep. George wasn’t sure what the hell Matty had been making, or why he was even trying to cook in the first place, but he had made a mess.

George flinched, feeling a pair of arms wrap around his waist in a surprise hug, pulling him from his rapidly spiraling thoughts. 

“Hey,” said Matty, pressing his face against George’s back, his words muffled by the fabric of his tee shirt. “I’m going to clean this up, go sit down.” 

“I got it,” said George, still holding the mixing bowl but doing nothing to dislodge Matty from his person, instead letting himself sink into the comfort of the embrace. He could feel Matty’s chest rising and falling against his back, as he breathed, the comforting sensation making him smile despite himself. He both hated and loved that Matty’s simple presence was enough to keep his dark thoughts at bay. It scared him that one person held so much power. He also hated that Matty was standing behind him, telling him he was going to clean up his mess and George was still offering to clean it up. 

“No,” said Matty, tightening his grip on George’s middle, throwing his weight around to shift George away from the counter, still holding the mixing bowl. “I made the mess, I’ll clean it up, go sit down, I have a surprise for you anyway.” 

George sighed, disappointed as Matty stopped hugging him, but letting him take the mixing bowl. Matty sat it in the sink, while George sat down at the kitchen table, pointedly not letting himself look at the still messy counter. 

“I made a cake,” Matty said sheepishly, presenting George with a lopsided slick of chocolate cake. Matty had cut into it too soon, while it was still warm, meaning the frosting was down the side and the cake had lost its shape. 

“Fuck,” said George, surprised by the tears burning in his eyes. “I love you.” 

Matty blushed. 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

#allylikethecat #January OTP Prompts #Prompt Fills #Prompt Fill #Gatty #Matty Fic #Keep it Kind #disclaimer this is another one i did not proof read i just said eh good enough and tossed it into the world #thank you for being so lovely and supportive of these #feel free to continue ignoring them though #especially this one lol

[tessa-liam]

The Morning After, October Weekend Retreat

Book: TRF AU 

Summary: It’s the morning after, part 2 of October Weekend Retreat. 

Main Pairing: Liam x MC Riley Brooks-Rys (Liri/OTP) 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except Delaney Liegh, she is mine. 

A/N1: My first foray into NSFW writing! 

A/N2: In this AU, there is no Via Imperii, but Lena is found by Leo in Monterisso after he moves there, and she is reunited with Liam soon after. 

A/N3: Thank you to @phoenixrising0308 for helping me to navigate Tumblr once again and pre-reading. 

A/N4: I am taking part in Choices Flashfics Week#6, @choicesflashfics  

Follow-up to October Weekend Retreat 

Rating: NSFW🍋🍋, adult conversation. 

Word Count: 1392 

Riley’s POV: 

Stretching her arms above her head, languishing between the silk sheets on her stomach, Riley slowly starts to stir. Keeping her eyes closed, she moans “...ohh” as she feels hands grasping her hips, and then slowly moving up her sides to cup her breasts. Riley smiles recognizing the very familiar scent of Liam’s cologne as she lifts her backside off the bed pressing upwards and back as the sheet slides down. She feels his knee swiftly pushing her legs apart from behind, while fingers from his one hand pull and roll a nipple into a peak. His other hand moves down to pay attention to her intimately between her legs. As her long hair is moved away from her neck, she feels his mouth gently kissing and nipping, stopping to suck on her earlobe. A taut hard chest pushes her body down on the bed while teasing her from behind. “....mmmmm Liam, ahhh!” 

He plunges his hard, thick shaft into her and at a steady and rhythmic pace, Liam begins to rock her world. closing his eyes, he feels her tight walls surround him. “Let go Riley, come for me, mmmm...” moaning in her ear. He knows he won’t last long, she feels too perfect, so soft, so wet.  Feeling and knowing she was close, Liam quickens his movements, searching for his own release. 

🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️

It was early morning when Riley awoke to rays of sunlight streaming into their bedroom from the large bay window overlooking the gardens. She is disappointed to find Liam already missing from their bed, after searching for him, to enjoy some bliss wrapped in his arms.  Riley stretches and rubs her eyes, swinging her legs off the bed and sits up. 

Immediately realizing she was going to be sick, she bolted to the bathroom, losing whatever little she had in her stomach when she got there.  

She knew it was time.  

Time to test her theory. 

Taking out the test stick, she completes and sets it down to wait for the results to show.  Riley starts the shower, stepping into the hot steam of the water. Letting the water cascade down her body, she shampoos her hair and then leisurely uses her loofah to help the time pass. 

Sliding the shower door open, she calmly walks over to the counter to get the test results. 

She looks down. 

...and smiles. 

After drying her hair and then getting dressed, Riley goes in search of Liam.  

🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️

Sitting out on the balcony with his laptop, Liam is enjoying his morning coffee while reading the minutes of the last Royal Council meeting. His cell chimes with a call from Leo. 

“Hey Leo, good morning.  How are you doing after last night?” Liam asks, wondering where Leo was calling from and why.   

“Morning Li, doing great. Did you hear from Drake this morning?” 

“Not yet, why do you ask?” 

“I am at his cabin, and he is not answering the door or my calls. I left my luggage here last night, and I am flying home later tonight, and I need to pick it up. I am going to go back to Beaumont’s now, I hate waiting. Drake’s truck is not here. I thought maybe he went to the palace this morning.” 

“I don’t think he is here; I will message Bastien to track him down for you.” Liam, starting to wonder if Drake was okay from last night’s adventures, ends his call with Leo and taps Bastien’s number. 

*************** 

Hearing Liam speaking outside on the balcony with someone, Riley decides to wait until his calls were complete before she joins him to share her news. Grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, she sits down on a stool at the kitchen island and nibbles on a slice of dry toast she picks up from the breakfast trolley. 

A smile spreads across her face. 

She knows that he will be ecstatic. They started trying to get pregnant at once after their conversation, when he confided his desire for another child a few weeks ago in Valtoria.  

That fast...Riley shakes her head. 

This is something they both want. 

Riley glances over to see Liam standing up from his chair, starting to walk towards the kitchen area. She briefly contemplates getting up to greet him, but she doesn’t trust her stomach to cooperate, so she stays put. 

“Good morning, my love.  Did you sleep well?” Liam bends down to kiss Riley’s lips. 

“I slept well, especially after my surprise!” Riley cheekily replies. “My pleasure to surprise you, love”, he winks with a smile. 

“How was your evening with the boys? What trouble did you get into?” Riley chuckles mischievously.  

“Hey, I was well behaved...I may have gotten myself roped into hosting the next get together in Valtoria. 

Maybe some camping and horseback riding to celebrate Maxwell’s birthday.” 

“Max would love that...are you going to invite Bertrand?” Riley snickers and stands up, a bit too quickly, feeling dizzy, and she clasps the table to steady herself. 

“Riley, hey, are you OK?” Liam quickly steps over to steady her, asking concernedly. 

Riley takes a breath and sits back down. 

“Liam, I have to......” Riley stops as Bastien stops at the door. 

“My apologies, your majesties, for the interruption,” Bastien states. 

Liam looks at his wife, concerned at her almost falling, taking her hands in his. 

“It’s alright Bas, go ahead.” Riley responds. 

“His majesty asked me to find the whereabouts of Mr. Walker this morning.” 

“Any luck with that?” Liam asks. 

“Yes, sir.  Mr. Walker is in the Capital, at a townhouse belonging to a Miss Delaney Leigh.” 

Liam raises his eyebrow, while Riley starts chuckling. 

“He is with a mystery lady?” Riley smirks. 

At that moment, Liam’s phone chimes. He looks down and sees Drake’s face appear. 

“Thank you, Bastien, good work.” 

“Drake, how are you? Liam asks. 

“Hi Li, I am good. Is everything okay at the palace?” 

“Everything is fine here....” Liam responds.  

“I’m just...I’m a little bit confused.” Drake says reservedly. “Why did you send Bastien in search of me?” 

“Well, there is a situation with Leo’s luggage. He left them at your cabin last night and went to pick them up this morning. You weren’t there and you were not answering your phone.” 

“Oh right, he did leave them there. I will be home later this afternoon. I will call Leo to let him know.” 

“Thank you, Drake. And Drake, who is Delaney Leigh?” 

“Put him on speaker! I need details!!!” Riley laughs. 

Liam sets his phone down and taps speaker. 

“Yeah, yeah Brooks. No one you need to know about at the moment.” 

"AAHHH! I will break you down, you know!” Riley smiles. 

Drake laughs and ends the call, and Liam slips his phone into his pocket. 

Liam sits down on a stool in front of Riley. He tenderly takes Riley’s hands in his again. “Are you feeling better now, love? What happened?” he asks worriedly. 

Riley’s heart melts at his look of adoration and concern. 

It’s time!  

“Well, as long as I don’t move quickly, I should be all right.” 

“Riley, what is it?” His anxious look of worry makes her feel guilty for not telling him sooner. 

“Don’t worry, Liam,” she tenderly strokes his cheek. 

“All is good, perfect actually.” getting emotional, as a tear rolls down her cheek. 

“Liam, I’m pregnant.” Riley smiles widely. 

Liam looks at his wife, his queen. “Really?!” 

Riley emphatically nods her head yes, as Liam wraps his arms tightly around her. Nothing could wipe the smile off of his face. 

🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️

💐Thank you to everyone who reads, re-blogs, and/or comments. Your support means the world to me💕💕 

@txemrn @bebepac @ao719 @peonierose @phoenixrising0308 @queenmiarys @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @703cowbarn @mom2000aggie @malblk21 @queenrileyrose @sfb123 @kyra75 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @differenttyphoonwerewolf @winkyluxhumanoid @dcbbw @harleybeaumont @kingliam2019 @marietrinmimi @busywoman @delightfullysweet @lovingchoices14 @angelasscribbles (@tinkie1973 blog not found)

#trr fanfic #trr liam x mc #the royal romance #always liam and riley #liam rys #riley brooks #trf au #trr #trr au fanfic #october weekend retreat

[lalazeewrites]

Am I writing a RomCom? Yes. Is it because I need to write something silly and fun because life is hard? Absolutely. Is this going to be ten chapters when I'm done? YUP.

For now, here is a sneak peekof my WIP! Where are they going? Why the hell are they going? Who will strangle the other first? This is me attempting the 'Year of the OTP' challenge, and January's prompt is FAKE DATING.

Mickey had not considered the fucking plane ride.

He had not considered a shit ton of things. 

Like, for instance, how much Ian Gallagher can talk when strapped to a chair for hours with nothing better to do. At least in the past Mickey has always been able to walk away the second Ian gets all wordy and weird.

“Do you think we’ll see dolphins?” Ian asks as he leans across Mickey to peer out the window. Ian smells like Irish Spring and something equally green and zingy, bright and lively. Mickey hates himself for even noticing.

“What dumbass dolphin would swim near a giant ocean liner?”

Mickey slaps at Ian’s arm and back until he retracts to his own damn space. His shoulder brushes Mickey’s own anyway because his frame is honestly too big for these seats; same with the legs, all cramped up against the back of the seat before them. 

Mickey peacefully stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle, quietly thrilled that he can do what Ian can’t. 

“I guess.” Ian glances down the aisle for no apparent reason. Smiles at someone who dares make eye contact with him. Looks at Mickey and smiles wider when Mickey also dares make eye contact. Jesus, this is going to be a trying trip. “Someone’s got a baby down the aisle.”

Mickey rubs at his eyes with thumb and forefinger.

“Why you keep pointin’ out babies to me, man? You pulled this bull the entire time we were at the airport! I don’t give a shit unless you’re planning a kidnapping, and in that case, I absolutely care, because I’m done with jail for the remainder of my life and I ain’t gonna be an accomplice to the crime.”

“I wonder if the baby’s ears hurt.” Ian has a remarkable ability to absolutely ignore anything Mickey says. He noticed this years ago at various get-togethers, but it’s a serious fucking problem now, more than ever. “Do yours? Mine popped. You have to yawn to do it, though.”

“I would be yawning if you’d shut the fuck up for a full five minutes!” Mickey fully embraces the menace that radiates from him as Ian’s eyes go a little big, his mouth clamping shut. “Watch a goddamn movie and let me rest, Gallagher. Ain’t this supposed to be my vacation too?”

Ian blinks, those wide, deep eyes briefly skimming Mickey’s face, down to the clenched hands upon his lap. His lips curve and shit, there are few things worse than a noisy Ian Gallagher, and it’s the one who likes to look at Mickey like they’re actually friends. Like they actually want to be here, together. 

“You rest, Mick.” Ian dares pat Mickey’s tattooed forearm, all buddy-buddy. Mickey’s blood burns. “The cruise sets off at six tonight, so you’ll need your energy if we’re gonna party the night away.”

“Party the night away? You sound eighty.”

“I wanna be friends with any eighty year-old who wants to party like that.”

Mickey scoffs as he makes a show of rolling his jacket into a pillow to shove against the window. 

“You would.”

Ian makes a sharp, frustrated noise, which shouldn’t be as gratifying as it is.

“Oh come on, I mention one time the dudes I dated—”

“Is it really dating if you were a teen and they were married?”

Ian aims a sour look at Mickey’s smug face. 

“I thought you were sleeping now.”

“I’m fully preparing to pass the fuck away for life, yes.”

“Through force of will? Impressive.”

“Anything to get away from you, Gallagher.” Mickey heaves a sigh and shuts his eyes, snuggling his face into his jacket. Ian’s spring scent surrounds him and it’s not the worst thing ever. “Now shut the fuck up and don’t wake me ‘til we reach the land of of old folks homes and nightlife. Hold up—that sounds like your dream land!”

“Shut up. As if I could live in a red state.”

“I don’t even know what that means. Sleeping now.”

#gallavich #gallavich fic #lalazee words #does this have a title? no #is it already many chapters long and i simply haven't released it? yes #will anyone read it? i could not tell you #cruise fic

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: May

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

This installment is also part of @imagining-in-the-margins' Family Challenge.

Prompt: Pet/child acquisition (okay, I stretched the boundaries of this prompt just a little bit)

Words: 1254

Warnings: a little blood, a little pee, a little swearing, but all pretty G-rated.

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            Tara and Emily were perfectly happy as a child-free couple, but that didn’t mean they didn’t adore all of the many children in their life.  They absolutely doted on Tara’s younger cousins and showed up to all of Henry and Michael’s Little League games and school plays.  And so when Matt’s mother-in-law came down with a terrible cold right before he and Kristy were supposed to have their first romantic weekend getaway just the two of them in years, Tara felt compelled to offer up her home for babysitting services.

            “Are you sure?” Matt asked, “I mean, you do know there’s five of them, right?”

            “I know how many kids you have, Matt,” Tara said, “I even know their names and ages, too.  I love those kids, and they love their Auntie Tara.  And their Auntie Emily.”

            “Well…okay then!” Matt said, “We’ll drop the kids off Friday afternoon.  Thanks so much!”

            When Friday rolled around, Emily and Tara had made up the bed in the guest room for the little girls, and the folding couches in the living room and Tara’s study for the older boys.  The doorbell rang at a quarter to five, and the entire Simmons clan was on Tara and Emily’s doorstep.

            “You two are such a lifesaver,” Kristy said as she ushered her kids inside the house.  Matt was behind her, carrying at least half a dozen bags.  “We’ve packed everything you’ll need for the weekend,” she continued, “Now, Rose still hasn’t entirely mastered potty training, so I made sure to pack extra underwear for her, and she’ll need a pull-up at night.”

            “That’s fine, nothing we can’t handle—” Emily began.

            “Jake’s soccer game is tomorrow at noon in Hylbrook Park,” Kristy rattled on, “His game bag is all ready to go, and his uniform is in his backpack.  And David has a book report due next week, so if you can make sure he spends some time actually working on it—”

            “Kristy,” Matt cut her off, “The kids’ll be fine, and we don’t need to scare off Emily and Tara before we’ve even gotten on the road to the vineyard!”

            “You won’t scare us off,��� Tara laughed, “We’re looking forward to spending some quality time with the kids.  Now, you two go enjoy your adults-only weekend, and don’t worry about anything here—we’ve got it all under control!”

            And with Matt and Kristy on the road to their destination, Tara and Emily really did have everything under control at their house.  Emily was outside supervising the boys.  Jake was happily dribbling a soccer ball around the backyard and kicking it into an empty trashcan.  Emily and David were sprawled out on the patio loungers while David read his book for his book report aloud to Emily, and Emily occasionally chimed in with a question to get David thinking about characters and symbolism and themes.  All three little girls were playing together nicely in the den, and Tara was in the kitchen getting started on dinner.  Tara was priding herself on just how well she and Emily were managing a houseful of children without any injuries or crises or tears, and then…

            “Aunt Tara!  Rosie had an accident!” a little girl’s voice called out from the other room, and Tara couldn’t tell whether it was Chloe or Lily.  Truth be told, the only way she could tell the girls apart was Chloe’s missing front tooth.  Tara wiped her hands on her apron and dashed into the den, where little Rose was standing in a puddle on the floor, her pants wet and her face crumpled up as she burst into tears.

            “Oh, Rosie, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Tara cooed gently, crouching down and wiping the tears from the toddler’s cheeks, “Accidents happen, right?”

            “I didn’t mean to!” Rose sobbed.

            “I know you didn’t sweetie, I know,” Tara said, wrapping her arms around Rose and pulling her close, “You didn’t do anything wrong; I know it was an accident, and nobody is upset with you.  We just want to get you cleaned up, okay?  Can we do that, sweetie?”  Rose nodded and smiled a little, and Tara scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom.  “Lily, honey, can you go get some clean clothes from Rose’s bag?” she asked.

            Tara carried Rose into the bathroom and sat her down on the edge of the tub.  She peeled off Rose’s wet pants and underwear and washed her with a warm washcloth, humming soft, soothing melodies as she went.  Rose wasn’t crying anymore, and by the time Chloe and Lily knocked on the bathroom door with a fresh change of clothes, she had calmed down significantly.

            “Okay, Rosie,” Tara said, “Your big sisters can help you get changed into clean clothes, and I’m going to go clean up in the den.  But I’m just in the other room if you need me.”

            When she opened the door, she saw Emily shepherding David towards the bathroom, holding a paper towel to his nose, while Jake trailed behind them, apologizing profusely to David.

            “Jake kicked a soccer ball into David’s face,” Emily explained, “We’ve got a nosebleed on our hands.”

            “Bathroom’s all yours,” Tara nodded, picking Rose up and whisking her out of the bathroom before she caught a glimpse of the blood, “We’re all cleaned up here, just need to take care of the carpet in the den.”  She handed her wife the box of Kleenex she’d been using to wipe Rose’s tears.  “I imagine you’ll be wanting these,” she said, and dropped her urine-dampened apron in the laundry hamper before going to clean up the den.

            “Babe?  Do I smell something burning?” Emily called after her, and Tara immediately whipped her head out into the hallway.

            “The rice!” Tara gasped.

            “I’ll handle it,” Emily said, but as she pulled the towel away from David’s nose, more blood gushed out onto her hand and dripped onto the tile floor.  “Shit!” she cursed, before realizing her audience.

            “Emily!  Language!” Tara chided.

            “It’s okay.  Our mom says that word, too,” David said matter-of-factly.

            “Oh yeah?” Emily laughed, “And what does she do when she doesn’t have enough hands to juggle you kids and getting dinner on the table?”

            “Pizza!” Chloe cheered.

            Emily looked at Tara, who shrugged in acquiescence.  Pizza would certainly be fast and easy, and it would get some vegetables and protein in the kids’ bellies.  It also meant fewer dinner dishes and easy cleanup so that after dinner, Emily could read the girls a bedtime story while Tara watched cartoons with the boys until it was time for them to go to bed, too.

            As soon as Jake was tucked in for the night, Tara crawled into her own bed and snuggled up next to her wife.

            “All five kids are sound asleep,” she said.

            “That’s good,” Emily said, “All in all, I’d say we did a pretty good job.”

            “We did, didn’t we?”  Tara grinned and kissed the top of Emily’s head.

            “We probably would have made good moms,” Emily mused.

            “Yeah…” Tara murmured softly.  Then after a pause she said, “I’m kind of glad we’re not, though.  I like our life just the way it is.”

            “Me too,” Emily said.

            On Sunday evening, the Simmons kids would be back with their parents, and Tara and Emily would have their calm, quiet house back—until the next time they had child visitors over to spend some time with their favorite aunties.  And that was just the way they liked it.

#criminal minds #fanfiction #tara lewis #emily prentiss #temily #otp #adventures in babysitting #temily as lesbian aunts #fluff #family fluff #yotp 2023

[topsyturvy-turtely]

OTP challenge - day 15

there are two parts because I couldn't didn't want to shorten it for the life of me.

I wanna apologize for not updating regularly - never mind daily. i hope you can forgive my non-existent organization talent! thank you to everyone who is still in on this challenge!

[link to day 14]

15. teaching each other how to do something

(pt. 1/2)

Five year old Rosie stopped playing the violin with a loud dramatic note. "Well done, Watson. Keep practicing and it will be perfect." Sherlock praised his little apprentice.

John scoffed which turned his daughter's and best friend's head around. "Whatever do you you wanna say, John?"

"Just that Rosie already sounds perfect to me."

"Oh, she is. However let's not feed her ego too much.", Sherlock countered and winked at Rosie who grinned up at him.

"Yeah, she is already better at everything I am, aren't you, honey?"

There was a proud twinkle in Rosie's dark blue eyes when she giggled at that.

"Well", John stood up from the armchair that used to be his. "Thank you for the lesson, Sherlock. Are you sure you don't want-"

"I will not accept any payment from my favorite student." Sherlock immediately interrupted.

John made an amused noise. "Yeah, alright. It- it was good to see you, Sherlock." Their relationship ever after the Culverton case has been fragile, they never quite went back to what it used to be but... each man took what he could get.

"Good to see you too, John", Sherlock said softly. "Watson", he added, making the littlest bow towards Rosie. John adored how Sherlock treated his goddaughter. It made the doctor feel soft inside and sometimes this softness creeped through his walls to show through a smile. Like right now. Then he caught himself and clapped his hand against his thigh - a sign to say goodbye.

"Say thank you, Rosie, so we can head home."

Rosie finished putting away her tiny violin, then stretched her arms out, so Sherlock would pick her up. The detective did so, and then let her kiss his nose. "Thanks, Sherlock. Love you."

"Love you, too, Watson.", he said and kissed her temple.

At that moment, Mrs. Hudson walked into the room with a tablet of freshly baked biscuits. (Sherlock doubted it was anything but very calculated timing. She missed John terribly and adored Watson horrendously.) "Hoohoo, darlings! Buiscuits and tea anyone?"

"Mrs. Hudson!", John exclaimed pleasantly surprised (he had of course not seen through the landlady right away like Sherlock). "It's so good to see you!"

"Oh John, you should visit more often! Baker Street misses you.", she shot a meaningful glance at Sherlock, who pretended to busily clean his violin bow.

"And my sweet little Flower, how have you been?"

"Good! I love my violin sessions.", Rosie said enthusiastically.

"I can imagine, it sounds lovely from downstairs. Ooh! But I gotta go! The next round of biscuits is in the oven still!"

"May I come?", Rosie asked excitedly.

"Of course, dear.", Mrs. Hudson immediately agreed (no doubt this was her plan all along).

"Dada, may I?", Rosie asked her father.

"Yeah alright, I'll be right down."

"No hurry!", the two girls said in unision, on their way out.

John laughed after them, "Yeah, I see how it is."

Sherlock smiled, "Hudders adores little Watson."

"Everyone adores that kid.", John replied, shaking his head affectionately.

"Yes, indeed.", agrees Sherlock. He still had that soft smile on his face. Back in the days John liked to think it was only for him. These days, Rosie Watson was on the receiving end of it most of the time. John was glad at least one Watson had that honor.

"You're a fantastic teacher, Sherlock. Rosie... she really loves you.", John wasn't sure why he felt so awkward. They used to flow, now they are stuck in unspoken words and unspeakable emotions.

"It's my pleasure. She - both of you - mean a lot to me."

John softly carressed Rosie's violin case. "Do you know why I wanted her to learn to play the violin?"

Sherlock didn't say anything, but his interest was piqued, John didn't have to see him to know that - he felt it.

"It reminds me of you.", John said quietly and now he did look up at Sherlock. He hoped Sherlock knew what he actually meant: John missed him. How they used to be together.

For a long few seconds Sherlock looked at him. As so often, John could not look away. He didn't want to anyways. Then Sherlock breathed in sharply, turned around and grabbed his violin. John immediately fought an eye-roll. Of course they wouldn't be able to talk, how had he ever thought they-

But Sherlock held the violin out for John to take. "Sherlock, what do-"

"Take it."

Bemused John looked back and forth from the instrument to the man. "Are you sure- ", he started.

"I want you to try. Take it.", Sherlock insisted.

Hesitantly, carefully, John took the instrument. It felt fragile, but it was heavier than John had expected it to be.

"Put it under your chin. Like-"the gentlest touch redirected John's chin. Cold fingers. "-this."

"Hold the bow like-" Again, cold fingers on him, gently, just a whisper of a touch. "There you go."

Sherlock's mouth was close to John's ear. His voice velvet and deep. It crept inside of John, making the fine hair at his neck stand on ends.

"Now play for me.", Sherlock whispered. John surpressed a shiver. He was pretty sure, this shouldn't sound this alluring.

He didn't try to push his finger on a string. He simply let the bow glide and he produced an actual passable sound from a violin.

"Good, that was an A. Now try-", but John forgot to listen when Sherlock stepped behind him, feeling his fingers placing his index on the string, feeling his hand wrap around his bow hand, feeling Sherlock's chest against his back. John is pretty sure he forgot to breathe.

Sherlock was simply too close. He registered the man saying something, but he didn't know what. He tried hard to force the fog away. Instead he felt Sherlock leading his hand over the string, it was so darn cold against his own sweaty hand. A tone played and it was all so surreal: Sherlock teaching him to play the violin, Sherlock against his body, Sherlock whispering in his ear, Sherlock's cold fingers against his own warm ones. The tone sounded on and on and it sounded like the beginning of something. Like the beginning of something magical. Like the beginning of them.

But soon this something, that danced in the room to the tone they had played together, was interrupted by the thunder of upstairs-running kid's feet.

[to be continued in part 2!]

---

Special thanks to @totallysilvergirl whose series "Drawn to Stars" but especially "Teach Your Children Well" has subconsciously inspired me to write this incredibly talented and loving Rosamund Watson. I didn't realize until later, that it was very much inspired by you. Check this series out if you haven't yet! I love it so much!

tag list! (please tell me if you wanna be added or removed! 💚) @catlock-holmes @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee

#turtely writes #turtely's otp challenge #day 15 #day 15 pt 1/2 #prompt: teaching each other how to do something #happy about reblogs 🥰 #btw i don't play the violin #i don't even fucking know if ever even HELD one in my hands #so i apologize for any inaccuracies #pining #pining john #cheeses the pining... #this is like so chliché but... idc i wrote it take it or leave it. don't judge #(judge as in hate on it) #my writer's soul is a fragile one #johnlock fic #johnlock ficlet #johnlock oneshot #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #thanks for reading #*throws badly cut out paper hearts at you*

[le-amewzing]

maybe we make this our happily ever after

When @yearoftheotpevent gives you the perfect inspiration for your OTP with a single prompt. TTwTT

Fic: "maybe we make this our happily ever after" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Nick Torres/Ellie Bishop

Rating: T

Words: ~2,310

Additional info: romance, angst, 3rd person POV

Summary: Nick's long wondered—and has always wanted to ask Ellie—if they're the kind of people who deserve a happy ending.

      Nick wakes up well ahead of his alarm and drags a hand across his face, ending in pinching the remaining bits of sleep dust from his eyes. He's not jet-lagged in the least—Miami and D.C. are in the same time zone, thankfully—but he's still utterly exhausted, and waking from the semblance of a nightmare the same morning he's due back at headquarters to present his report in person on shuttering that arms ring…well, Nick surely wishes he could turn his alarm off and sleep for another five hours, at least.

      Instead, he lies awake and stares at the ceiling of his current dwelling.

      It's…all right, he surmises of what he can squint in the early morning darkness. At least the place is clean and not in disrepair, like some of the places he's slept on certain assignments these last few years. Still—

      It's not home. It's not the previous apartment he had, where he last risked setting roots, back when he'd been part of a team, part of something more.

      …and, frowning at that thought, Nick huffs and sits up. He gropes for his phone on the nightstand to his right and turns off the alarm with a yawn. Director Vance isn't expecting him until later this morning, so Nick can waste a few hours as he pleases.

      He pulls a few ingredients from the small fridge and quickly showers before whipping up an egg-heavy but filling breakfast. It's not Lucia's cooking, but it's safer for his big sister if she doesn't know about all these different Airbnbs with him back at it, even though Nick misses her dropping by to fill his fridge when he's not home.

      This particular rental has a medium-sized, flat screen TV, so Nick turns on the news at a low volume after he finishes cleaning up in the kitchen. He stretches slowly, legs and arms, and pays half attention to the local and national headlines scrolling along. The news items never catch his interest, though, not when he knows they'll never contain information on one specific person.

      Nick grimaces, thinking over how short the Miami op had been. That hadn't been fruitful—just a run-of-the-mill undercover assignment. And some jobs (most jobs) are like that, and he returned to undercover work expecting as much. But sometimes…sometimes, a case takes him places and he heard things. Be it this coast or the west, south of the border and accidentally crossing paths with his father, north of the border and on his own, back at the Pearl Harbor office to assist Tennant's team with a particular sloppy mission, or even in the northwest and close enough to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes from afar and exchange a reassuring nod before Nick brought in a fugitive from Alaska…he always heard things.

      Snippets of a golden ghost.

      Mumblings of a blond assassin.

      Occasionally, a "fair-haired fixer."

      They're vague rumors, and Nick never came close to discerning the credibility of the rumors at the time…but he knows he's got time on his side. After all, returning to undercover work is only partly because it's his area of expertise. The other half is because he's long desired the freedom to chase down leads on her.

      He's daydreamed a million times over what he'd say, should they ever meet again—but he knows he at least wants to redo that parting, someway, somehow. And if seeing her again isn't in her handler's plans…

      Nick shudders. It must've been a nightmare of earning Odette's ire, since he's got the two of them on his brain.

      He dresses and goes for a light jog, familiarizing himself with the neighborhood and shaking off the eerie vibes Ziva's old compatriot gives him at the same time. It helps him kill time, too, and Nick takes a second brief shower before dressing for the day and leaving for NCIS.

      The drive to the Navy Yard is average for this time of morning, right before the morning rush starts to spill into the streets. When Nick does arrive, he parks near the entrance of the lot. He needs the long walk to wake him up the rest of the way, and he needs the time to bury his personal stakes under other things so Vance and the others, if they're in, don't pry.

      …it's funny, though. Nick returns time and again to headquarters, sometimes after a few weeks, sometimes after months and months on end, and he finds the red brick building an odd mix of home and alien to him. The sensation reminds him of even longer ago, back when he first took a desk job and put undercover work on pause while he adjusted to his new circumstances.

      He scratches the back of his head, suddenly unsure about arriving so early. McGee's got kids to delay him and Knight's chronically late these days, but Vance and Parker—they turn up when you least expect them, and he's not sure he's ready for the kind of small talk they might prompt, so Nick veers off his direct path up the lot and heads for the footpath to the right, across the green. He internally heaves a sigh of relief, having bought himself another minute or two, and he stuffs his hands in his jeans' pockets—

      —but then he spies a familiar form on the bench ten yards ahead, just ahead of the coffee cart, and he slows his pace to course-correct, all but forgetting his appointment later this morning.

      When he's close enough, Nick carefully lowers himself on the opposite end from her. But, the whole time, his lips are parted and his brow is pinched, and he can't pull his eyes away from her.

      From Ellie.

      The bench isn't very big (there's space barely enough for a third person between them), but she leans back comfortably on his right side, and…she looks good, all things considered. She's dressed casual, like him, in jeans and her tan leather jacket, and she's got a takeout coffee in her hands and a bag of those shrimp chips Reeves used to buy her half-eaten beside her.

      …but she's a little worn, too, Nick realizes. There are a few new lines around her eyes, and her hair—ah, she's sporting bangs again—is lighter in places. Though her left eye…something's off with her left eye, and Nick does his best to stop staring when he understands why: Her left eye is completely cloudy.

      "Hey, Nick," Ellie says.

      He responds half a beat late, because—given her eye and the way she faces forward—he wasn't sure she actually realized he'd sat down. "H-Hey."

      Ellie smiles against the lid of her coffee as she takes a sip. "Something wrong?"

      "I—" Nick lips his lips. "I didn't get enough sleep last night. But now I think I'm not even awake yet, because, if you're here…I have to be dreaming still."

      She lowers her drink and grins, a familiar, toothy sight he hasn't seen in nearly ten long years. Ellie shakes her head and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "Nope, I'm here. Real and in the flesh." She takes one more sip before twisting around on the bench and tucking her left leg under her right, to face Nick.

      This time, face to face, it's more apparent. Ellie's got one opal iris and one deep brown iris, one pupil gone and one visible, and he worries about the story behind this change.

      Ellie leans against the back of the bench on her left arm. "By the way, I thought you'd like to know: I'm officially retired."

      Nick blinks, his train of thought derailed. "Wait. What?"

      "I'm coming in from the cold, Nick. I'm not Ellie Bishop, NCIS Special Agent. And I'm not Eleanor Bishop, disgraced federal agent. I'm just…Ellie." She exhales, slowly, almost a sigh. She's quiet for a moment as she reaches for his nearer arm with her free hand and pushes up the cuff of his thin jacket, tracing over a newer scar that peeks out over his wrist. "I see the same goes for you," she mumbles.

      He frowns. He's still a mix of shock and amazement and concern—but Ellie's assessment is at least one thing he knows a thing or two about. "I'm back to doing what I know best," Nick admits with a glance at this scar. He huffs. "Although, is it just me, or are the bad guys stronger and faster these days?" Nick thinks aloud.

      "Well, you've been doing this for more than twenty years, Nick. And you took a small hiatus."

      He pouts but covers her hand with his, hiding that scar on his arm. "Maybe. Or maybe they just hit harder."

      Ellie purses her lips. She sits up a little and leans forward, reaching up to trace the old scar from childhood in his right eyebrow. Then Ellie moves her thumb to just below his eye, along his cheekbone, tracing this mirrored scar from twenty months ago. "Do they?"

      Nick tries to muster his cocksure grin for her. "Ah, that? Don't worry about that. I'm still pretty sure that was friendly fire from…ah, well, he'd never admit it, but Sam."

      "Hanna? As in, the L.A. office?"

      "Yeah. Let's just say he and Callen ended up needing backup with Morocco, part two."

      Her brow furrows as she gives him a curious little smile, but Ellie chuckles.

      "What?"

      "Ohh, just. That would explain how I lost track of you for a time."

      He gapes at her. For all he chased down leads on her—! "You kept tabs on me?"

      "Don't look so surprised, Nick. But yeah, Hetty's office… I only got to work with Pride's team a few times, but everything I've ever heard about Hetty—she and Odette are two peas in a pod." She punctuates this with a sage nod of her head.

      But the mention of the woman who upended their lives brings to mind his nightmare from this morning, and it also brings Nick's attention back to Ellie's face, to her eye and why she's really back. He turns to face her, too, and brushes her hair back from her face, finding himself frowning once more. "Ellie…you said you're back, for good. But what happened?"

      A full minute of silence sits between them. Eventually, Ellie rests against his hand and gives him a fleeting, tight, tired smile. "…work hazard," she mumbles. She clears her throat and speaks more audibly, "Things didn't go right on what became my last mission, so…Odette said I'm out of the game."

      Nick furrows his brow while his heart sinks for her, knowing how badly she'd wanted that opportunity from the start. "Really? Just like that?"

      "Well, no. Surgery might still help, but a lot of time has passed. The more time that passes, the less successful it'll be."

      "So—"

      Ellie shakes her head. "I've adapted pretty well to my new blind spot, Nick. Funny thing is, all I could think was how relieved I was, finally coming home." Then she takes his hand from her face and holds it. She scoots closer and they sit together, quiet, letting the weight of her new reality sink in.

      A small part of him still worries that this is just his imagination at its best, that he'll wake up and it'll be a dream for sure. So he tucks Ellie into his side and presses a kiss to her crown…and, for good measure, he tilts her chin up, kissing her lips, too.

      (For two heartbeats, he flashes back unhappily to their parting, to their goodbye kiss at Odette's previous home.

      But then Nick summons to mind countless nights spent at Ellie's old apartment, of legs tangled with sheets and her pressed against him, of what came after, all his chances to wake her up with a good-morning kiss and getting to look into those big brown eyes of hers, fixed just on him…her world, him, his world, her.)

      They pull away, just enough to catch their breaths, and this time the silence doesn't feel so unbearable.

      But Nick breaks the silence anyway: "Marry me, Ellie."

      He thumbs her chin while she blinks and stares up at him in wide-eyed amazement. "…I thought, at best, we'd start over when I came back, if you wanted to," she replies.

      Nick shakes his head. "We went through hell already. We've had our good and our bad and, yeah, there'll be more to learn along the way. But I don't need more time to figure out that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I've…I've know that for years, Ellie."

      She eases into a soft smile. "What about you getting back into undercover work?"

      That gives him pause, but he's surprisingly thinking on his feet today. "You said it yourself: I've done it for more than twenty years. I have a nice pension coming my way… Maybe it's time I stop being Nick Torres, NCIS Special Agent. Maybe I get to be just…Nick."

      Ellie hums under her breath, but the glint in her brown eye says she likes how he's using her argument.

      So he raises his eyebrows at her, as if saying, Do I need to ask again?

      But she cups his cheek and traces his newer scar once more with the pad of her thumb. "Marry me, Nick," she says, and she laughs when it takes him a second to piece together that her answer is a proposal, as well—how Ellie Bishop of her.

      (But, he thinks when he kisses her anew, to seal the deal—to seal this promise—it's very them, and if this is simply how their fairy tale goes, then he's all right with that, because it's finally real, and they're done letting others stand in their way.)

Done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #39: ten yards) in the HPFC forum on FFN as well as the Year of the OTP (June prompt: proposal) on tumblr. I…do have other Ellick ideas, but this one cropped up recently, mainly bc of that June prompt, so I just dashed off to write this. XD As for what would make Odette give up an asset like Bishop…well, I do wonder if Odette would let her go simply if Bishop said she wanted out, but an injury that could jeopardize their work strikes me as smthg Odette considers retirement-worthy (altho note that corneal blindness is deffo treatable with grafts/transplants…but it's still a difficult surgery and resources are limited even developed nations, so Bishop isn't far off in her remarks). Idk if I want to write the op where Bishop got injured, since this was mainly just part of an Ellick plotbunny, tho. Ahhh, and assorted name drops… -w- Random, but it gives me the warm&fuzzies to think we have very our own multiverse here: Regardless of which you've watched, this is your reminder that all four (soon to be five) NCISes, JAG, the Hawaii 5-0 reboot, and Scorpion are in the same universe, thx to backdoor pilots and xovers. (Also feel free to scream with me if you still love and miss Scorpion and think it deserved better. ;w;) ANYWHO! On to my next NCIS fic~ AH, and final, final note: Bc I couldn't find the best places to squeeze this info into the fic naturally/without disrupting the rhythm, I thought I'd elaborate on the timeline here. This fic presumes Nick being with the Parker-led team for five years, and he's been back in UC work for three after that, so he rly hasn't seen his Ellie for nearly ten. ;w; (He would absolutely be pension-eligible since, when he joined Team Gibbs in s14, Quinn remarked she'd trained him "8yrs ago" at FLETC when he began his NCIS career…so if s14 is his ninth year, then this would be his 21st. :'3)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#ncis #ellick #nick torres #ellie bishop #fanfic #mew writes too much #yearoftheotp #have some feels #still miss them but they ofc still inspire me yo

[docholligay]

Ep 6: Taissa

Hello! This is about up to Episode 6 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 6 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the sixth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me.  Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like  “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember  that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you  talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all  I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I  could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please  just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

There are two wolves inside you, and they are both Taissa. The bad lady and the wolf…are Taissa. I feel good about this theory though this is just a theory. Taissa IS in fact a different woman from the women her wife married. There’s a Taissa that wants to take care of her family, and help her community, and there’s a Taissa that wants to simply win and hunt and kill. So for us all, but of course NARRATIVELY, I think it’s on the level. 

She is still the leader of this operation, and Nat and Shauna would have not idea what to do without looking to her. 

I sense deeply I should be getting into this Taissa and Van thing, and I’m not opposed to it by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s not all that interesting to me. We’re being set up, I think, to have something happen to Van, and to use that to set something off in Taissa. That’s about my level of engagement with it, and I’m fine with that. Seeing Taissa lose her fucking mind is the real OTP here, so I’m satisfied. 

But that doesn’t make their whole naked dunk completely disinteresting to me au contrary, I love when Taissa says, in response to Van saying she always wins: “Why do you think I like to play?” That’s it. That’s Taissa. She isn’t here to do anything but win, and THAT is why she could not give up the race even though she has become the wolf hunting her family down and the evil lurking outside Sammy’s window, and I think on some level she must know that. I don’t know if I think she’d engage with it for even five goddamn seconds, but I think if she really thought about it, she would know that.  And yet. She can’t stop. 

It’s also interesting to me in that..she does not seem interested in continuing things with Van afterward. In response to the idea that everyone will find out anyhow, Taissa says, paraphrased, ‘lol not if I run’. And don’t get me wrong, it’s easy to sit here in the year of y’all’s lord 2023 and tell Taissa to come out, when, in the 90s it was a real, actual problem in the US that had actual repercussions socially and financially, and I am not gonna let anyone sit here and call her a coward or ashamed when I’ve seen y’all unable to call your representatives out of anxiety. I’m not saying ‘you gotta give Taissa all the points.” I left home to accomplish my life. I’m saying, “Everything in life is a fucking decision, and you have to decide what costr is worth it, and what is too high. We all have priorities.” 

But onto the actual plan, to answer some questions brought up in my asks: Is it better from a non-narrative situation (Love the phrasing on this, will bring it up in a second) for the group to try and hike it out or hold on where they are? And the answer is: Yes. 

What needs to be done in this situation is to have, and this should have been done about a month ago, a small group of the strongest and most wilderness-canny people follow water down until they find something, and they ALMOST CERTAINLY will find something. Even the most remote areas, if you follow a creek down, it will very likely reach a river, which will very likely reach a road, which will very likely reach a settlement. (By the way, Tai, this is much smarter than merely heading “South.” You can go south in the rockies a long time without hitting anything. You could walk nearly all the way through Montana.) If this were my family, me and Mike would head out--I know how to survive well in the wilderness, and I hike very fast, Mike can generally keep up with me, and Jill needs to stay and take care of those who can’t follow. But yes, I think this is the logical, terrifying thing to do in this situation. 

Now, back to narratively. There’s no way Taissa is leaving. I have no idea what the mechanism of her being trapped there will be. Maybe it’s the aforementioned ‘something almost certainly is going to happen to Van.’ But she’s not going anywhere. 

Speaking of going places: I think Simone should leave Taissa. But Doc, you love Taissa. I love Taissa narratively, of course, and I find myself every single episode uncomfortably identifying with her (In which way can YOU not possibly cope with the weight of situations? Tag yourself!) but, she’s not a good wife. She’s not a good mother. She is sacrificing everything at the altar of her need to win and to conquer, and in doing this, she proves to herself over and over that if she FAILED in the woods, it must have been because it was impossible to win, not ANY weakness in her. She is on the hunt, and because of that, she has blinders on, and she can’t see all the things she’s leaving behind. 

Kind of on that note, and on Simone saying, “You know for someone who’s been through some shit--” all of us, every single one, has a tendency to universalize our experience, and this filters down in a million different ways. It’s why you see people armchair diagnosing historical figures and characters and etc with disorders and genders and sexualities, it’s why people struggle to understand complex and varying viewpoints, it is something so so difficult to guard against in our normal lives. And, coming from someone like Taissa, it can be extremely difficult to come through adversity, figure it out, at least on paper, and see someone else crumbling underneath it. I am Taissa going, “For fuck’s sake” about the idea that my, nine year old, I think, raised in a huge house ina  wealthy neighborhood, has it that fucking hard.Now, this is the one way of universalizing one’s experience that gets constantly criticized, but ask yourself in truth--are you not also guilty of this? I feel like this is an insane thing for Simone to say, because to me, having come through it makes you know how possible it is. I do not think this is my, or Taissa’s most perfect trait, but it is a very human one. 

Come to the end of Taissa BITING HERSELF. Yes. What else could you do with that? 

#Doc watches Yellowjackets #Yellowjackets E1 s6

[smoothdogsgirl]

February - Established Long Distance Relationship

Pairing: Brock Reynolds

Warnings: Deployments, Care Packages

Words: 943

Summary: Brock and the team get surprises during mailcall while on deployment in J-Bad.

In a Discord group I belong to, there was a post for a "Year of the OTP" challenge for 2023.

Disclaimer: This is fanfic work; no money is being made from this story. All recognizable characters belong to their respective creative authors, studios or producers.

Masterlist

“Mail call you clowns,” Sonny yells as he joins the guys around the fire pit. He opens the mailbag, “alright, let's see what we have for Bravo Team.” Reaching in, he pulls out a medium size box, “Ray, here’s a little bit of home.” He then tosses it over to him. He reaches in and grabs the next package, “bossman, it looks like the kiddos sent you something too.” On the next grab, he pulls out some letters, “heads up,” he shouts, and when Trent and Metal look at him, he flings the letters to them. They each catch them before they have a chance to hit the floor. He stuffs the last letter into his back pocket as it’s addressed to him. Shaking the bag, he realizes there is one more package inside; when he pulls it out, he grins, “looks like someone is sending Brock and Cerberus some love too.” He then tosses it to the man in question. 

There is some friendly teasing as Ray and Jason open the packages from their families. Emma and Mickey had mailed their father a card, chocolates, seeds for his vegetable garden, and baby wipes. Now Naima and the kids had sent Ray some homemade cards, cookies, drawings, candy, and baby wipes. 

“So, Broccoli, whatcha get?” Sonny asked.

Causing the other guys to look in Brock's direction as he finishes cutting tape on his box, he chuckles; it’s a heavy-duty heart-shaped Kong toy and a jar of all-natural peanut butter. On the lid is a heart-shaped sticker and the name Cerb. Brock whistles, and Cerberus gets up, stretching lazily while yawning, ambling over to his handler, and sitting by his feet. 

Brock takes his knife, spreading a glob of peanut butter on the Kong Toy before handing it to Cerberus, who sniffs it briefly before biting it and retreating to his spot near the fire pit.

Digging back into the package, he pulls out a Ziploc container of homemade chocolate and peanut butter chip cookies, a container of baby wipes, a small container of homemade dog treats, a new hard copy of his favorite book ‘The Martian,’ a homemade DVD and a card in an envelope.

“Who’s sending you all those goodies, Broccoli?” Sonny asked from his seat next to Brock, eyeing the container of cookies.

“Not to mention, who knows your pup so well?” Trent asked, nodding at Cerberus, who was still munching on his toy. 

“Spill brother,” Metal’s low, gruff voice causes Brock to jump a little as he comes up, setting a bottle of beer next to his camping chair. 

Brock rubs the back of his neck; he smiles at the guys and places the package on the ground leaving the book and card on his lap. He then looks at all of the guys, “Keep your paws off of my cookies, or I’ll sick the hair missile on you. You’ll be his training dummy.”

Opening the card, he can’t help but smile when he reads the contents,

Cracking the book's cover, he places the card inside, flips the pages, and stops at page 316. Lying between the pages is a 3D ultrasound image. He picks it up, taking in all of the child’s features. Brock is so lost in thought he doesn’t see Trent get up to grab snacks. 

“Cute kid, you gonna be an uncle?” Trent asks, seeing the picture.

Brock grins at the man, “Nah, man, I’m gonna be a dad. This is my kid.”

Everything around the fire pit stops; the guys look at him. 

“What’d you just say, Broccoli?” Sonny asks his Texas accident even thicker than usual.

Picking up the image and showing it to the group, “I said I’m gonna be a dad.” Noting writing on the back of the image, “make that a girl, dad. This is a picture of my daughter.”

Ray smiles at him, “welcome to the club, brother. There is nothing quite like it.”

Jason nods his head in agreement, unsure of what else to say.

“So, who’s the baby momma Broccoli? Can’t believe you finally managed to get some and didn’t tell us?” 

Brock growls at Sonny, “my daughter isn’t the result of some one-night stand. And trust me, man, getting some has never been a problem.” 

Sonny holds up his hands in surrender.

“So you’re saying you have a girlfriend?” Clay asks, giving Sonny a reproachful look.

“Not what I said either,” Brock replies with a shoulder shrug.

“Quit being cryptic, dog boy. Tell us what’s going on.” Metal states before taking a swig of his beer.

“My wife is the one who is pregnant. It wasn’t exactly planned, but not unwanted either. We found out the week before the deployment that she’s pregnant.”

Trent tilts his head, “since when are you married?”

“We got married two days after returning from our last deployment to J-Bad. It was just us, the dogs, a JP on a floating dock in False Cape State Park at sunset.”

“So, almost a year and a half?” Trent clarifies.

Brock shrugs, “that sounds about right?”

“Dogs?” Clay questions.

“We couldn’t exactly get married without Cerberus and Artemis. Before you ask, Artemis is a two-year-old sable German shepherd.” Brock replied.

“How long have you guys been together?” Trent asks.

“We met just before I went through BUDs. We’ve been together ever since.” Glancing down at his watch, he does the calculations in his head for the time difference to Va Beach. “This has been fun, ladies, but I’m going to go call my girls.” Grabbing his things, he whistles, and together he and Cerberus head to their hootch to make a video call home.

Note:

The letter in this story was written in Dutch. I decided since that is the language he gives Cerb commands in, he picked it because he speaks it, and so does his wife. Here is a close approximation of what the letter says. I had a friend of mine do the Dutch translation.

Hey Babe, I’m missing you and our furry kid. The bed is cold without my two heat sources. Here are a few little things for when you get a minute of downtime. Only a few more weeks and this deployment will be over; we can’t wait to have you home. I had a new ultrasound technician at my last appointment, and she accidentally spilled the beans on our March surprise. So if you look at the page corresponding to that date, you will know too. That being said, when you come home, you better have a list of names ready. Love you, Babe

#“Year of the OTP” challenge for 2023 #Seal Team #Bravo Team #Brock Reynolds #Cerberus #Trent Sawyer #Scott “Full Metal” Carter #Sonny Quinn #Jason Hayes #Ray Perry #Clay Spenser

[reallyinkyhands]

Twyla + karlach? Owo [ Your OTP snuggling!!! In bed!!! On a summer night!!! With the windows open!! And the curtains gently blowing!! And all is right in the word ]

Putting this under read more + mild spoiler warning for BG3! Tagging @zeesqueere @farahswife and @lolacouldnotcareless but absolutely no obligation to read! Just thought you guys might be interested!

“My beautiful, genius, extremely dedicated to her work girlfriend. Please come and join me? I am all alone, and the bed is so cold.” Karlach, lounging on their shared bed, made a show of calling Twyla. 

She was only in the next room over, but that felt like a hundred miles now. An answer to her prayer was a quiet chuckle. “How can the bed be cold? You’re in it.” Her partner’s thick accent, made even thicker with the exhaustion, only confirmed that Karlach was doing the right thing by calling her to rest. 

“True,” she answered. “But you aren’t here and I’m this close to getting up and carrying you to bed myself.” 

The other Tiefling woman appeared in the door, carrying a sketch of a model she was working on. “I’m almost done, I promise.” 

Karlach sat up. “Let me see.” She stretched out her arm. 

Twyla passed her the design. “It’s just a small steam engine wood chipper. Nothing too complicated, but if I managed to enchant it permanently…” 

Her partner grabbed the design, placing it on the nightstand. “You’ll finish it tomorrow.” She took Twlya’s hand instead and pulled her towards the bed, and ultimately, herself. 

Twyla didn’t fight it. She only pretended to sigh, only pretended to roll her eyes. She laid down on Karlach’s chest, enjoying the soft ticking of the machinery inside. There was something to be said about listening to your most beloved heartbeat, knowing you contributed. She closed her eyes, breathing her in. 

“You’re right,” she muttered. The summer evening breeze tickled her skin, carrying in the sounds and smells of the vineyard. The orchestra of cicadas, the ripening fruit. The last patrons of the small wine parlor at the end of the property, closest to the city gates. The sounds of home. 

Karlach made an amused sound. “Fuck yeah I’m right. You work too hard.” 

Twyla only hummed as a response. She got that from her papa, she suspected. That, and her mind that never truly stopped buzzing with ideas. 

Before she knew it, she was drifting off. Unsure for how long she was asleep, she opened her eyes suddenly. “I’m sorry.” She yawned. “I think I’ve fallen asleep on you.” 

“That was the point, silly.” Karlach was playing with her hair. “Me getting you to sleep a healthy amount, for once.” 

She didn’t protest. She didn’t so much as grunt as she closed her eyes again, this time falling asleep for the rest of the night.

#answered #el-dritchknight #my writing #vacuumdecay oc #oc writing #a. #games: baldur's gate 3

[sofya-fanfics]

Snow

Fandom : Fruits Basket

Relationship : Kyo x Tohru

My Year of the OTP 2023 contribution for the prompt : Snow.

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Kyo stretched and he rubbed his eyes. They stung for having read too much. He had been revising for the next English test for over an hour and the words were starting to jumble in his head.

He looked out the window and he saw the snow falling. It was covering the garden with a white mantle. He opened his eyes wide, surprised. He had been so engrossed in studying that he had not noticed it was snowing.

Disclaimer : Fruits Basket belongs to Natsuki Takaya.

@yearoftheotpevent​​

AO3 / FF.NET

Kyo stretched and he rubbed his eyes. They stung for having read too much. He had been revising for the next English test for over an hour and the words were starting to jumble in his head.

He looked out the window and he saw the snow falling. It was covering the garden with a white mantle. He opened his eyes wide, surprised. He had been so engrossed in studying that he had not noticed it was snowing. He rose from his chair, thinking that it was time for him to take a break. He left his bedroom and he went down the stairs. He headed for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the carton of milk. He had not seen Tohru. He wondered where she was. Maybe she was studying in her bedroom too. He saw Yuki enter the kitchen.

“Hey,” Kyo said. “Do you know where Tohru is ?”

“She said she was going to the convenience store to do some shopping,” Yuki answered, pouring himself a glass of water.

Kyo frowned. She was out in that snow! He hoped she had taken something to protect herself. He put the carton of milk back in the refrigerator and he went to the hallway. He sighed when he saw that she had forgotten her umbrella. He took it and walked out of the house. The convenience store was only a few blocks away.

Halfway, he saw her. She was holding a shopping bag, indicating that she had finished shopping and that she was about to go home. She looked up at the sky, watching the snow fall, and she was smiling. She was lost in that moment and she did not see him arrive. Kyo approached her and he put the umbrella above her head. Tohru opened her eyes wide and she looked at him.

“Kyo-kun?”

“You'll catch cold if you stay in the snow.”

She smiled at him, embarrassed.

“I had forgotten to take an umbrella when I left and I was surprised by the snow. It's so beautiful, don't you think ?”

Kyo had never really thought about it. To him it was just snow and he had never found anything special about it. Tohru smiled in wonder, as if she let herself be carried away by the magic of the snow. Kyo blushed and looked away before Tohru noticed his flushed cheeks. There was something beautiful in what he saw, but it was not the snow that was falling. In his eyes, nothing could match Tohru's beauty. Kyo coughed lightly and took Tohru's bag to help her. She tried to protest, but Kyo told her that he did not mind.

“Come on,” he said. “We better get back.”

Tohru nodded and smiled at him. For the first time, Kyo found something special in the snow. It was Tohru who made it special and wonderful.

The end

#year of the otp #year of the otp 2023 #Fruits Basket #Kyoru #kyo x tohru #kyo sohma #Tohru Honda #fruits basket fanfiction #fanfiction #My writing

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

The second to last one! Here we go! The home stretch! This was another one I almost forgot about / lacked all motivation to finish once I remembered it was a thing. I was too excited about the new You Know Where the City Is chapter.... BUT here it is!

30. Catching snowflakes on tongue

“Anyway, that’s why I think it’s important that we—” George paused, breaking off sharply, slowing his step, mumbling an apology to a businesswoman who bumped into him, not expecting his sudden change of gait to disrupt the flow of sidewalk traffic. He looked to his left and frowned when he realized that Matty was no longer keeping pace at his side. His frown deepened and he turned back to see Matty stopped a few yards away, his head tilted back and his tongue sticking out. 

“Um, Matthew,” George said slowly, cautiously, wondering if Matty had suffered the psychotic break he always joked about. “Em, what are you doing?” The joke was never funny, and George was worried it was about to become even less funny. 

“Catching snowflakes on my tongue,” Matty said as if that explained absolutely everything. People glaring as they had to change their trajectory to move around him. George frowned. It explained nothing. He hadn’t even realized it had started snowing until Matty mentioned it. But it was, fluffy flurries falling from the sky, landing on Matty’s tongue, glittering like diamonds as they landed in his dark gray streaked curls. 

“Em, why?” George asked, retracing his steps to stand in front of Matty again, he could see the cloud of his breath as he panted, letting the snowflakes fall and instantly melt as they landed on his pink tongue. The center of his tongue was stained blue from the blue raspberry lollipop he had been sucking on earlier, trying to feed his oral fixation as he tried to cut down on smoking with varying results. 

“Because it’s fun,” Matty said, returning his tongue to his mouth to look at George with bright eyes. George was suddenly overcome with such a strong wave of fondness, such a strong feeling of love that he couldn’t help but step into Matty’s space, pulling him into his arms and pressing their lips together, Matty’s lips and tongue were cold from the snow against his own warm ones. 

“What was that for?” Matty asked when George pulled away, sounding slightly dazed as he looked upon George with the same love that George felt, deep in his chest and tingling in his frozen toes. 

“I love you,” George said as an explanation. “I love you so fucking much and I’m grateful everyday that we get to go through this life together.” 

“Aw,” said Matty, his eyes glittering, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. He patted George’s cheek. “I love you too babe,” he paused, “anything in particular that brought this on? Anything you need to tell me...” Matty trailed off, suddenly looking concerned. 

George snorted, “you’re just really fucking cute,” George elaborated, “and I really fucking love you.” 

“Well,” said Matty, letting his hand drop from George’s face so they could intertwine their fingers. “It’s a good thing I love you then isn’t it?” 

He paused, hesitating, his wicked grin coming back, “even though you forgot to empty the dishwasher this morning.” 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

#allylikethecat #January OTP Prompts #Prompt Fills #Prompt Fill #Gatty #Matty Fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic prompt #keep it kind #SECOND TO LAST ONE LETS GOOOO #thank you so much #for reading and the support #but i am very ready to be done with these

[lavampira]

29 or 35 for sidalia? 🥺

[otp questions]

ty ash!!

29. what compromises are they making in their relationship?

the time spent apart can be a very contentious subject for them, but communicating frequently and making plans to visit each other during those stretches of time helps. there’s also the fact that they’re essentially co-parenting rielle, and while it’s not divisive or anything like that, the situation does affect their relationship in trying to find a balance between her needs, their own individual needs, and their needs as a couple, too.

35. would they get a pet? what kind? who brings up the idea, and who takes a little longer to convince?

not really sure that they would necessarily get a pet unless it was a scenario of rielle bringing something home and pleading, and sid would probably be the one to convince since he’s the one at the apartment most often, but the island sanctuary does exist in her canon, so d’alia has the pasture to care for and convinces sid to help out sometimes!

#asked and answered #gefiltefished #oc: d'alia liveq #alia/sid

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: April

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

Prompt: pranks

Words: 895

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            It started with a joy buzzer.  Tara taped it to Luke’s desk phone the night before April Fool’s Day.  She got into the office early the following morning and watched from the round table room, waiting for Luke to get in.  No sooner had he put his morning coffee cup down on his desk than Tara called him from her cell and laughed at the little yelp he let out when he picked up his phone.  He looked around the bullpen, and when he spotted Tara laughing at him up in the round table room, he smiled and shook his head.  It was game on.

            Luke got his revenge on her by stealing all the pens and pencils off her desk and replacing them with one giant novelty pencil.  Then Tara used her height to her advantage and taped a big picture of a grinning clown to the ceiling above Luke’s desk so that when he leaned back and stretched, he was so shocked he nearly fell out of his chair.  Over the next few weeks, the BAU bullpen became the battlefield for Tara and Luke’s prank war.  There were airhorns and taped computer mouses and faxes of joke police reports.  Tara switched around the sugar and salt right before Luke came in and made his morning coffee, and Luke filled Tara’s filing cabinet with helium balloons.

            Emily watched her wife’s antics unfold from her office up on the catwalk and pretended not to be entertained.  She’d sigh dramatically and shake her head and pinch the bridge of her nose as she admonished her agents for goofing off at work, but secretly, she was in no hurry to stop the pranks.  Seeing Tara enjoy herself like this made Emily’s heart glow, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t just a little bit tempted to join in on the fun.  But as the unit chief, she needed to maintain a certain level of decorum, and she couldn’t exactly jump in and start playing pranks on the team.  Besides, as entertaining as these hijinks were for the team to watch, the prank war had so far just stayed between Luke and Tara.

            But then Luke changed the rules, and when Tara got into the office one morning and turned on her computer, she blinked in surprise when her desktop background wasn’t her and Emily at Niagara Falls, but Luke and Penelope making goofy faces.  There was no way Luke had pulled that off on his own.  To change Tara’s desktop background remotely, he would have needed Penelope’s help.  And if Luke was going to bring his Girl Friday in on the shenanigans, then Tara was, too.

            “Emily…” she said, stretching out her name in a singsong voice as she curled up next to her wife on the couch one night, “You would tell me if you really wanted me to stop playing pranks on Luke, right?”

            “It’s all in good fun,” Emily shrugged, “With what we do, it’s good to have a laugh every now and then.”

            “So…it’s okay if I prank him again this week?”

            Emily turned and looked at her wife with a quizzical frown.  “You’ve never asked my permission to play a prank before.”

            “Yeah,” Tara said, “But this is gonna be a big one, and…I kind of need your help—if you’re up for it.”

            “Well, I guess one prank couldn’t hurt,” Emily said with feigned reluctance, but the smile on her face betrayed her bubbling excitement, “What did you have in mind?”

            They set their plan in motion that Friday.  Emily made sure everyone went home on time and took the evening off—no working late allowed.  As soon as the team had cleared out, she pulled several rolls of Christmas-themed wrapping paper out from under her desk and brought them down to the bullpen where Tara was waiting for her.

            “Let’s do this,” Emily said with a mischievous smile.

            They took all the objects off of Luke’s desk—not that there were all that many; he did travel light—and wrapped them up one by one: his stapler, his hand sanitizer, his framed pictures of Roxy and his abuelita.  And then they were ready for the big job: wrapping the desk itself.  It took an entire roll of Christmas tree paper and an awful lot of scotch tape, but with Emily’s masterful giftwrapping skills, they got the whole desk covered in paper with every corner neatly folded and taped.  Tara replaced all the little wrapped presents exactly as Luke had left them on his desk, and topped it off with a big bow and a gift tag that read “To Luke, with love from Tara and Emily.”  She stepped back from the desk and put her arm around Emily as they surveyed their work.

            “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Emily said.

            “You did a great job,” Tara nodded.

            “I’m glad you asked me to help,” Emily said, “Since I became chief, you know, I don’t really get to do all the fun team bonding stuff I used to do—you know, joking around with Morgan and Reid, goofing off behind Hotch’s back…I guess I kind of missed it.”

            “I’m glad I can bring out this side of you,” Tara replied.  She leaned in and kissed her wife tenderly.  “I promise to make sure you never miss out on the fun.”

#criminal minds #fanfiction #emily prentiss #tara lewis #temily #otp #yotp 2023 #luke alvez #luke and tara brotp

[silversiren1101]

10, 27, 30, 37

OTP Relationship Asks!

10. What are some non-sexual activities they do together? 

Is there anything more romantic than writing reports together and working on military strategy or operations?

In all honesty, though, they are the type of couple that doesn't necessarily need to do things together so much as they enjoy existing around one another. Quiet time before the fireplace with books or reports or even just dozing off are how they most often relax together - they're both very busy people with different things to worry about at times!

As for more active things, they do often train and workout together. They both know each other's preferred training routines (modified from Hellknight armiger training) and try to have joint sessions at least once a week.

When they have time - board games are also a good, competitive activity for them. Chess and Imperial Conquest to even Checkers to shake things up... I imagine it's a little luxury for them and they end up amassing several interesting games from around Golarion to pass the time.

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

I'm actually kind of struggling with this one!

There are the obvious things like feathers remind Regill of Minovae and battlemaps remind her of him... but those don't really feel sentimental enough.

I have to get a little more abstract - for Regill, the cold often reminds him of her because his first instinct is to grouchily wonder if she remembered a coat or scarf. She gets cold very easily because of her scales and when he found her on the bank of the West Sellen near Leper's Smile after the whole thing with Ssila'meshnik transforming her powers and her panic leaping 3 days ahead... she was deadly hypothermic. He doesn't actively admit or talk about it because he dislikes being considered sentimental or worrying, but remembering how cold she was when pulled his gauntlets off to assess her always disquiets him. Someone so bright and undeserving of such suffering shouldn't have felt that cold, like a corpse.

Minovae on the other hand... teas and coffees, especially ones she has while traveling, always make her wonder what he would think of them. Regill is a bit of a coffee snob (a quiet, aloof one) so when she's traveling around the Inner Sea away from home, she makes sure to always try what's local or preferred in the area, possibly bringing leaves or beans back home with her. He's not a materialistic person, so these more 'practical' gifts are much more to his acceptance... especially if they come with a military history book or martial philosophical treatise to read along with them that she found.

30. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

Minovae gravitates towards kissing his scars - the ones he earned from protecting her: over his jugular, several across his torso, one on his thigh, and the massive one stretching from palm to shoulder on his left arm. It's her way of acknowledging without words his devotion and love, and expressing her deepest gratitude and sorrow over the pain he suffered.

Regill usually defaults to lips or cheek/jaw. Being shorter makes it a bit more difficult for spontaneous kissing though, so her hands do get a brief kiss if there's no time to stop and give her a proper one!

In bed... for both of them, it's open season. Their necks and shoulders especially get rather marked up, but special shout out goes for Mino's inner thighs and her sides.

37. What do they like the least about each other?

SPICY QUESTION!

Minovae does struggle with how callous and cruel the Worldwound has made Regill in the decades she's been gone. He's always been cold and more willing to pay for victory in blood, but it's gotten so much... severe. When her memories do come back, she is pretty appalled by his actions and beliefs but she also understands. The person he used to be slowly died here just as the person she was did, and she knows if she had survived decades here she might have become much the same. When demons are so merciless and cruel and have been winning for so long, you don't have time to stop and deliberate on the options. Things turn black and white when it's a choice of "everyone dies" or "some/most people die". It's at least offset by his ever-willingness to listen to her input and consider her seriously, and when the tide of the Crusade changes in their favor, his methods and initial impulses do gradually begin to shift to match.

Alongside this, she dislikes how he doesn't see the soldiers and rank and file as people so much as currency of war or tools. Even back during the Chelish Civil War, Mino would personally deliver the remains of those that perished underneath her to their surviving family and apologize for not doing enough to save them. Regill would merely say that they knew what they signed up for and they died in service, as was expected of them. Their sacrifice would be acknowledged and that was suitable enough.

Conversely, Regill dislikes how reluctant Mino is to truly lead. She has all the skills for it, but she cannot detach herself enough to use her soldiers as they've enlisted to be. She takes losses too personally and he even goes so far as to say she is robbing them of their agency by being so reluctant to endanger them. "They signed up for this, to fight and possibly die. This was their choice. Why do you feel the need to shield them from that?"

They've never come to agree on this, but they at least understand and accept where the other is coming from.

I feel like wasted potential would be a huge pet peeve for him, and Minovae would truly be a formidable leader if she could get past this... but he also admit that her softness and kind-heart are what truly make her her, and he wouldn't change that about her if he magically could.

He also dislikes just how trusting she can be with second-chances or her reluctance to think critically of someone without complete proof or evidence. This led her to getting stabbed by Camellia, of course, and even then she was insistent on sparing her and getting her help... Mino is so preoccupied with protecting and saving others that she most often suffers in their stead. Regill does admire how she is so steadfast in her ideals in this but he can only watch her get hurt so many times by foolishly trusting another before it becomes a point of contention between them.

Ultimately though, what they dislike about the other are aspects of what they also admire most. Minovae is kind and good hearted, always searching for answers and solutions that save the most people... but it holds her back and causes her to get hurt. Regill is self-assured, confident, and resolute in his beliefs, doing whatever it takes for the greater good to prevail in the end... but he loses sight of just what the cost is and doesn't see how dozens of instances of mortal empathy and connection can create something far more substantial in the bigger picture.

All that matters is they understand and accept the other during such disagreements.

Questions here!

#silversirenwrites #regill derenge x minovae arangeir #oc: minovae arangeir #pair: hellpair #pwotr pals