#british actor rpf

[viking-raider]

A Christmas Miracle🎄

Summary: You and Henry are celebrating Christmas with family, while expecting your first child together.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Soft!Henry, Fluff, Kal, Papa Bear!Henry, Domestic Bliss, Christmas Decorating, Pregnancy Stuff, Cotton Candy Fluff, Loving Marriage, Christmas Fluff

Inspiration: This story ties into my Easter story, The Golden Egg.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

“Babe!” Henry gasped, as he came into the living room, nearly tossing the steaming cup of tea in his hand, upon discovering you.

You were standing on the two-step high stool, to sprinkle golden tinsel on the fragrant and robust branches of an eight foot Fraser Fir that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. You chuckled, shaking your head at your husband, but didn't look back at him, as you picked a bit of tinsel off one of the emerald branches, having adorned the needles with too much of the sparkling, thin strands.

“You shouldn't be up there, love!” He scolded you, setting the tea he had made you on the coffee table as he rounded it and the couch, to come towards you, resting his hands on your hips. “I told you, I would help you decorate the tree, once I was done with your tea.”

“I know you did, Hen.” You answered, sighing softly, finally looking down at him and seeing the wrinkle of worry between his brow. It hadn't smoothed since the Brit found out you were pregnant with his child on Easter, nearly nine months before. “But I'm also capable of doing it myself.” You reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving his neck a gentle squeeze.

“I'm pregnant, not invalid.”

Henry sighed softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your round and pronounced belly. “I know you're capable, sweetheart.” He assured you, looking up at you with an affection in his blue eyes that always melted your heart. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially with you so close to the due date.” He said, helping you step down off the stool. “Just sit down and enjoy your tea. Then, we'll tag team the tree together.” He told you, putting an excited smile on his face.

“All right.” You conceded, settling down on the couch and took up your tea, cupping the mug between your hands and letting the heat seep into your palms, before finally taking a sip.

“Your parents will be here in a couple days.” Henry commented, squatting beside a box of Christmas decorations neither of you had opened up yet. “My parents made up their guest house in preparation for their arrival.” He told you, peeking into the box.

Halfway into your pregnancy, Henry had taken time off from acting and the two of you decided to leave your secluded London home for the coziness of Henry's home island of Jersey. Buying a nice, beach front property, three streets and a five-minute walk from his parents' place, with the intent on having your baby boy born in Saint Helier. You loved being on the little Channel Island, sitting on the back patio or taking walks on the beach, breathing in the soothing sea air, which helped your morning sickness a good deal.

The only downside was your family was far out of reach of you, having to fly into Jersey to visit and check-in on you. Your parents wanted to be on hand when you finally had their third grand-baby, so Henry footed the bill to bring them out and his parents were amazing enough to host them while they were here.

“That's great.” You smiled, flexing your sore and swollen feet, watching him pull out ornaments, garland and other little tree decorations. “I can't wait to see them again.” You commented, not having seen them since your fourth month, just before you and Henry left for Jersey. “I'm sure my mom will bring more knitted items.” You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to the soft, butter-yellow blanket your mother had knitted a couple months ago.

“I would be shocked, if she didn't!” Henry laughed back, his broad shoulders shaking as he stood. “What garland do you want on the tree?” He asked, holding up a strand of colorful beads and another of red and white, twisted ribbons.

You hummed, pressing your lips together and studied your tree, eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing the colors on its branches. “I think the ribbon would work best with it.” You finally settled, nodding content with your choice.

“All right then.” He nodded back, putting the other garland aside. “Ah, nope!” He tisked, when you set your tea down and started the mini struggle of standing up. “You put the tinsel on the tree, it's my turn to put the garland on. You relax.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed softly, picking your tea back up and rested against the couch cushions, just in time for Kal to jump up beside you. “Well, hello there, sweet boy.” You cooed at him, reaching out to give him good scratches between the ears and around the neck. “Have you come to make sure I stay put?” You quipped, the Akita resting his head in your lap.

“I did no such thing!” Henry called over his shoulder, carefully tucking the garland into the branches.

“Sure, love. Sure.” You chuckled at him, though Henry's protectiveness at times could be a little overbearing, you knew he did it out of love and first-time father worries. “He's paying you in treats and promises of all the good turkey, ham and brisket bits he plans on cooking for Christmas dinner.” You accused, lifting a brow at the unphased Akita, before wincing and pressing a palm to the side of your belly.

“You all right?” Henry asked, catching a glimpse from his peripheral, pausing a moment.

“Yeah, your son just kicks like a Fly-Half.” You answered, chuckling halfheartedly. “If he keeps these strong legs, he'll for sure make the England team.” You said, trying to ease the look of suspicion on Henry's face, that it was the baby kicking, and your own, that the pain was something more than a false contraction.

“You missed a branch there, Bubs.” You commented, drawing Henry's attention away from the subjection, motioning with your steaming black, Nightmare Before Christmas cup.

“Mm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you, but turned to fuss over it.

You took a deep breath, rubbing the globe of your stomach, hoping to soothe any would-be pains. Thankfully, you didn't have any more throughout the morning, helping Henry put up the ornaments and other little hanging knick knacks on the tree. Something Henry was comfortable with you doing, since you kept your feet on the hardwood, safely beside him.

“I want to do a little plaster imprint of his hand and foot, to hang up on the tree for next year.” You commented suddenly, gently holding a little needlepoint ornament you'd made. It was a silhouette of Henry and you, with Kal between you, the year above your heads. You had made one every year since the first Christmas the three of you had spent together. “Should make a new needlepoint too.” You added even softer.

Henry glanced down at you, a fond and nostalgic light in his blue orbs. “I think that would be a lovely idea, babe.” He smiled, warmed at the idea. “I like the idea of making and expanding our little traditions.”

“I should have given myself a baby bump in this one.” You joked, carefully adding the stitched ornament on a branch, accompanied with the others around it. “So much for accuracy.”

“It looks perfect, my love.” He assured you, kissing your hair. “Now, let's turn the lights on and see how this thing looks!” He proclaimed, shuffling around the tree and plugged in the two strings of lights skillfully wrapped around the tree.

You stood back to get a good look at the Fir, just as the tiny, cool and warm-white LED, diamond facet bulbs flickered on. Making many of the ornaments glitter and twinkle. It brought a great feeling of delight bubbling up inside of you, tugging on your exhausted and hormonal raged body, until tears spilled over.

“Sweetheart.” Henry cooed, pouting at you sweetly, as he closed his arms around your shoulders, hugging you as closely as your belly would allow.

“It looks beautiful.” You mumbled into his chest, fingers gripping at the sides of his shirt.

He smiled, nosing the hair at the top of your head and rubbing your back with one hand. “It is, dear, and so are you.”

“I'm also starving.” You blurted out, breaking the melancholy mood.

“Butter chicken or pepperoni and feta pizza?”

“Oh god, you know me too well at this point.” You giggled, licking your lips. “But, the butter chicken.”

You sat up in bed, Kal resting between your legs, with his head laying on your belly, as you read your latest book on your Kindle. While Henry was downstairs doing some work on the new Warhammer minis he ordered as a way to keep himself occupied, when he wasn't taking care of you.

“Oh.” You gasped, feeling a sudden, sharp pain. “Gosh, did we disagree on the butter chicken, Bean?” You groaned, pressing your palm to the side of your stomach; Kal lifting his to sniff at your belly as another pain caused you to cramp. “It's all right, Bud. Your brother is just being a little difficult.” You sighed, setting your e-reader on your nightstand and lumbered out of bed, before heading downstairs.

“Hey, love.” Henry smiled, looking up from the Ultramarine mini in his hand. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I was trying to, but your son doesn't agree with dinner.” You explained to him, looking over his progress on his Warhammer army. “Can you do your trick?” You asked, lulling your head to the side and giving him a cute look.

Henry chuckled, setting his mini down. “My trick.” He smirked, standing up and moving behind you. “Any reason to cuddle.” He teased, reaching around to cup both hands beneath your stomach and leaned you both backwards, taking the weight of your belly as he did.

“Mmm.” You hummed, eyes falling shut, while you let your head rest against Henry's chest. “It feels so good.” You sighed, resting your hands on his.

Henry cradling your baby bump had become a god send throughout your third trimester. Taking the weight of your healthy and active baby boy off your lower back and hips. However in your earlier trimesters, the two of you learned it helped relieve your heartburn and whenever your little one got a bit too restless.

You liked to think it was the baby reacting to Henry's touch.

It was calm for a long, few moments, just you and Henry, slowly swaying side to side, the baby calm. But again, your stomach spasmed and you whimpered, making it clear to Henry, you were indeed having some sort of contractions.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked, eyes wide and brows pinched.

“Since this morning.” You confessed finally, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded, startled and worried.

“I didn't have any through the afternoon.” You assured him, patting his hands. “I figured it was just false. But, I'm starting to think otherwise, with how much that one hurts.”

“We should probably go to the hospital.” Henry fret, starting away from you, but you turned and caught his elbow.

“Henry.” You said in a soft, soothing voice. “You remember what the OB said?” You tried reminding him. “Four-One-One.”

“Four minutes apart, a minute long, lasting an hour.” He recited, having listened to your OB, and read numerous baby and expecting parent books.

You had taken a couple of parenting classes as well. Until people started posting photos of you on social media, annoying you and causing Henry to be even more of a papa bear. So, you'd found an online, private class to do in the comfort of your living room.

“Not one has lasted a minute, been four minutes apart or lasted an hour.” You assured him, dropping your hand to his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If they're the real deal, I'm in the early stages and going to the hospital now will only incur hours and hours of waiting. Which we'll be doing here anyway.”

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen, you worry-wart.” You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “Come to bed with us.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes, kissing his bearded cheek and brushing your fingers through the curls above his ear.

“You'll tell me.” Henry insisted as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Of course, I'll tell you, Henry.” You assured him. “Then, I'll tell Kal.” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile.

But he didn't smile, his mind preoccupied with making sure everything was ready, should you wake him up and tell him your contractions were growing close together.

Did I get the car seat in the Audi correctly? Where did I put the hospital bag? In this closet or the coat closet downstairs? Everything's in it she and the baby needs, right?

“Babe.”

Perhaps I should just go down and get it, to make sure. What about the nursery? Thank God, I finished the crib last month!

“Hen..”

Do we need more diapers? Are they the right size? What if--

“Henry!” You called out, when he didn't answer you, a far off and growing alarm look in his cerulean eyes, startling him out of his worried trance. “Everything is all right.” You said slowly, holding his gaze steadily. “We have everything we need. Everything the baby needs. If we don't, that's perfectly fine. Your parents and mine have offered their help, should it arise. As have your brothers.”

“I don't know how you're so calm.” He sighed, shaking his head and dropping down on his side of the bed.

You laughed, smirking. “I'm not calm. But there's no use for us both freaking out, especially at the same time. Besides, when I freak out, I have you to pull me back together, the least I can do is return the favor, when you start to lose it.” You told him, maneuvering yourself back under the covers.

“What's a spouse for?”

“You're right.” Henry nodded, turning the light out and resting against the headboard beside you. “One of the many reasons I love you, and married you.” He said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Snuggling down, your back pressed against Henry's chest with his hand ever present on your belly, you tried to focus on falling asleep.

“You know.” Henry commented, half-asleep himself. “I sort of miss when you were in your first and second trimesters.”

“Oh?” You mumbled back, with interest.

“Yeah, you were always jumping my bones.” He laughed, shaking the bed with his mirth. “Well, until the end of your second trimester, when your belly got too big to do anything other than waddle and ride my cock.”

You were instantly awake again at his words. A huge smile of hot guilt and embarrassment on your face, that you hid in your pillow. It was true! The first stages of your pregnancy had made you quite frisky towards Henry. Sometimes so much so, he hadn't recovered from the last time you'd had sex and would need to pleasure you in other ways to bring your arousal down. Not that the man complained about it! But a couple weeks into your third trimester, the raging inferno of your passions cooled off. Even beyond what they were before you were expecting. You were just too tired and sore, uncomfortable, and just ready to give birth, to think of such things. But again, Henry didn't complain. You were grateful for that, because you felt bad that your mood didn't match his, at the moment.

Having seen the look of concupiscent on his face more than once, as the two of you showered together, went to bed or woke in the mornings. But you just didn't have it in you, and he took it with grace and understanding acceptance, not pressuring you or making you feel like a bad partner, for not reciprocating.

The two of you calmed down and allowed each other to finally fall asleep.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked, the next morning as the two of you finished breakfast.

“I feel all right, Bubs. Only a few pains here and there.” You answered, polishing off your usual cup of chamomile tea, something that had been a staple throughout your pregnancy, to battle your morning sickness and heartburn. “Excited to make cookies with your mum.”

Henry smiled across the table at you. “Good. I bet all these sugary smells are going to drive you and wee man nutty.”

It was a Cavill family tradition to get together, before Christmas, and make cookies for the big family dinner party, as well as to give out as tokens to friends and neighbors. It was also considered quite the honor among the Cavill brothers' wives to have Marianne ask to join her in the massive production. Since she didn't ask just anyone to help her; having a couple secret family recipes to protect in the process. But Marianne had asked, surprisingly and much to Henry's pride, you to help her, at your and Henry's first Christmas. Something that made one or two of Henry's sisters-in-law jealous, especially since the two of you were new and still dating, and one of them had never been asked.

Even to this day.

“Our mouths are already watering for your mother's chocolate chip, mocha cookies.” You confessed; it was one of the many things you looked forward to for Christmas. Marianne's chocolate chip, mocha flavored cookies were something you'd start a fight over, as were her chocolate covered, Oreo truffles with peppermint bark crumble on top. “Oh god.” You moaned, stuffing the last bit of bland, buttered toast into your mouth; Henry laughing at you.

“I'm going to roast up another heritage turkey this year.” He commented, finishing his coffee, then helped clear the breakfast table. “Everyone seemed to love it last year.”

“That's fine with me.” You answered, loading the soap dispenser and starting the dishwasher. “I have one small request.”

“You could make an enormous request, love!” Henry snorted, taking a protein shake out of the fridge.

“I want yams with roasted marshmallows on top.” You told him, confidently. “To myself.”

“To yourself?” He echoed, a smirk on his lips. “How big is the dish?”

“A small one is fine. I just don't want to share it.” You confessed your craving to him.

Letting out a laugh and nodding, Henry shrugged. “All right then. I'll make sure you have your roasted marshmallow covered yams, and I'll have Kal guard them.”

“Excellent.” You nodded back, then looked at your watch. “We should get going. Your mother asked us to get there before ten.” You informed him, heading for the front door and eased yourself down on a small bench that was there.

Henry joined you, squatting down to grab your shoes from underneath the bench and slipped them on your feet, tying them securely, since your prominently belly prevented you from reaching your feet to put on your shoes. Let alone tie them. Your shoes on and helping you back up, Henry got his own shoes on, but paused as he opened the door for you and Kal. He glanced back at the hall closet. Biting his lip, he hurried over and grabbed the baby bag from inside, then dashed after you, putting the bag in the back as he got behind the wheel.

“Just in case.” He answered your lifted brow.

“Fair, I suppose.” You shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.

“How are you holding up, my love?” Henry asked, peeking into the kitchen, before shuffling over to you, sure his mother wouldn't shoo him out.

“My cookie restraint thinned dramatically after the second batch.” You confessed, looking around at all the Santa's, snowmen, candy canes and snowflakes that were either waiting to go into the oven or cooling. “However, your mum apparently anticipated this. Making me batch yesterday, so I could nibble on them, while we made these.”

Henry grinned, touched at his mother's thoughtfulness. “That was sweet of her.” He cooed, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “Have you had any more pains?” He asked, his brows pinching slightly, worried.

“Nothing concerning.” You told him, closing your hand around his wrist. “You know I'd come get you.” You tried assuring him, giving him a soft smile. “Or your mum would, should my water break.” You giggled, a smile turning into a smirk.

“That's not funny, babe.” Henry snapped softly, eyes big.

You pressed your lips together, guilty, before pushing up on your bare toes, having taken off your shoes for the long standing in the kitchen, to press your lips against Henry's. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You mumbled against them, before reaching around him, grabbing a finished Snowman, presenting it to his mouth in place of your own. “I baked and decorated this one myself.” You grinned at him, a glitter of pride in your eyes.

“Oh, did you?” He cooed, opening his mouth to admit the round biscuit of white icing, adorned with two black chocolate pearls for eyes and smaller black sugar pearls for a mouth. It had a carrot nose, made of orange icing and the upper crown of the biscuit was covered in purple, blue and white hundreds and thousands, then outlined with silvery snowflake-shaped sprinkles.

Taking the biscuit from you, Henry nibbled on it, already knowing it would be delicious, since you had made it with his family's age-old recipe. “You know.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “I can't wait to share these with our little guy.” He said, smirking down at the bake, before glancing around the kitchen.

“Well, technically, I've already done that.” You giggle, running your hand over the globe of your belly.

Henry snorted loudly, his smirk growing. “You have me there, my love.” He replied, finishing his treat off, reaching out to lay his hand on your stomach as he saw the moments of your son shift, pressing either an elbow or knee out. “Still trips me out to see him move inside of you.” He commented, feeling something around nudge against his palm.

“You should feel it from this end.” You huffed, making a face at the kicks as he tumbled about, prodding a heel into your ribs and a shoulder into your slowly screaming bladder. “Poor bud is running out of space in there.” You cooed, moving your hand to cup the underside of your stomach.

“That he is.” He agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. “But, soon he'll be out here with us.”

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.”

A cold chill washed down Henry's back, making the little hairs on his neck stand up as he straightened. “Mum.” He squeaked, looking at her over your shoulder.

“You know the rules of setting foot in my kitchen, while we bake.” Marianne scolded her second youngest.

“I do.” He nodded, biting his lip as he half smirked at her. “I was just checking up on her and our little one.” He explained, motioning to you.

Marianne's gaze shifted, her soft and kind blue eyes looking you over. She had noticed the few contractions you'd experience while helping her bake, and had sharpened her eye on you even more. Everyone in the family had a side eye on you it seemed, with your due date so nearby, like they were concerned you would pop like a water balloon.

“I'm fine.” You sighed softly, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Then, you can pop out of our kitchen.” Marianne said, cocking a brow at her son.

You chuckled, loving the nonchalance she had. “We'll see you later, my dear.” You cooed at him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the sugar on his lips and inciting a need for another cookie from your stash. “Off you go.” You giggled, patting him on the chest and set your eyes on your task.

Henry looked at his mother with a pointed look, gesturing towards you, to which Marianne answered with a roll of her eyes and picked up a sheet of cookies needing to go into the oven.

“My back is to you, Henry, not my senses.” You shot over your shoulder, cutting out more cookies from the dough.

“Christ alive, our son has his work cut out for him.” He chuckled, winking at you as he turned to leave and rejoin his brothers and dad in the living room.

You looked over at Marianne and laughed, your mother-in-law joining in, the two of you amused he didn't realize you'd seen her roll her eyes.

“That boy.” Marianne chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to stand beside you, helping portion out the raw dough.

“He's freaked out.” You commented, gently laying a Santa on the sheet.

“Understandably.” She answered, wielding the snowflake cutter with skill. “The first baby is always the most stressful, and Henry's wanted to be a father for a very long time.”

“I know he has.” You nodded, feeling your stomach lightly bump the edge of the counter. “I'm happy and excited for our little one.” You told her, wadding up the scrap dough, then picked up a rolling pin. “I'm definitely ready not to be pregnant anymore.” You snorted, smiling faintly.

“And your worries?” Marianne asked, tilting her head at you, without pausing her work.

You drew in a slow, deep breath. “I'm worried about the labor. I'm terrified about whether or not I'll make a good parent.” You confessed to her, letting your breath out. “I know Henry will, he's incredible with kids. I love watching him with his younger fans, with his nieces and nephews.” You gush, grinning at the flashes of memories. “Seeing him hold Ellie, when we first met her--” You shook your head, a bubble of emotions overwhelming you for a moment, til you cleared your throat.

“You'll be a great mother.” Marianne reassured you, running her hand up and down your back. “You have nothing to worry about there. You'll have me and your mum to help you, as well as Heather and all the other girls.”

“I know.” You nodded, resting your shoulder against hers. “And I appreciate it, with all my heart.”

“Why don't you go upstairs, to Henry's old room, and rest for a bit?” She suggested to you. “I can finish the cookies with Heather.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, glancing around the organized chaos of the kitchen.

“Yes.” She nodded, resting her hands on your shoulders and turning you away from the counter. “You and my grandson need all the rest you can get.” She directed you towards the entry of the kitchen. “Soon, you won't have it.”

Henry saw his mum guiding you and instantly jumped up from the couch, where he sat beside his brother Simon. “Are you all right, honey?” He cooed, his handsome face pinching.

“She's fine, Henry.” Marianne replied, looking up at him. “She just needs to rest a bit. Take her upstairs.”

“All right.” He nodded, taking your arm and showed you upstairs to the bedroom that was his as a kid. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe.” He asked, helping you lay back on the made, full-size bed.

“I'm all right, Puppy.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

“What's wrong, honey?” He asked, pulling up a chair from the desk in his room and sat down in front of you.

“Nothing's wrong.” You replied, sighing, flexing your plump toes as Henry grasped your foot in his hands. “I'm just tired and sore.” You told him, closing your eyes as you let out a soft moan, feeling Henry's thumbs work your arch.

“I got the Dad Talk from my dad and brothers.” He chuckled, gently touching the tip of your toes, each painted a cute red color, that he had done himself about a week before.

He had started giving you little at home, medi-pedis to treat you to something nice. Though, it had taken him a couple tries to get painting your nails down. Admitting it wasn't as simple as painting his Warhammer Minis, like he'd thought.

You giggled back, smirking. “Did they?” You hummed, letting your eyes fall shut. “Any good advice?”

“Um, Simon said that I should explain my job to him as soon as we think he can understand it.” Henry recalled, biting his lip with an amused smirk pulling across his mouth. “So, we don't have another Thomas Incident on our hands.”

“My dad's Sherlock Holmes!” You replied, laughing aloud. “Or god-knows who else!”

“Exactly.” He nodded, amused by it too. “My dad suggested, should we have any more kids, to have girls, that way it doesn't continue on the Cavill boy madness, like dead arms and throwing each other off the couch.”

“I would like, at least, one girl, anyway.” You told him, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling your son shift and kick again, wincing as he did.

“Same.” He smirked, as excited as he was for a son, he had wanted a girl too. “Maybe the next one.”

“Mmm.” You hummed back, falling silent and drifting slightly.

Taking the hint, Henry rested your legs in his lap and leaned back, closing his own eyes to rest. Both of you were exhausted from the months of preparation for the baby, all the worrying about if you would be good parents and protecting your son against the world of social media and paparazzi. But the pair of you had only laid there for twenty or so minutes, before you jerked at a sharp pain, inadvertently kicking Henry in the stomach as you did.

Henry gasped and groaned at the blow, doubling over. “Babe?” He rasped, frowning across at you, finding you half sitting up, hand cupping the underside of your stomach with a look of shocked horror on your face. “What's wron—oh shit!” He snapped, seeing the wet patch seeping through your leggings and onto the duvet on the bed.

“Was that--”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, gulping thickly.

“It's okay, all right.” He nodded, running both hands through his curls. “Up we go.” He said, holding his shaking hands out to you, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Broke your water on my childhood bed.” He commented offhandedly, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“It is where we had our first kiss.” You added, lifting a brow at him. “Why not this too!”

“Mum!” Henry called out as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “We have to go.” He said as Marianne rounded the corner from the living room. “Someone's water broke.”

“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Go hurry!” She shooed the two of you towards the door, before spinning on her feet. “Code blue everybody!” She shouted at the family gathered in the living room, snapping them into gear, sending brothers and in-laws scrambling everywhere.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked as he helped you buckle your seatbelt.

“Like I just peed myself.” You snorted, clutching your belly. “Henry.” You cooed at him, watching him make jerky movements but not move from your side. “Hen!” You called, reaching out to grab his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

“Huh?” He whimpered, blinking a few times.

“My shoes are still in the house.” You informed him, offering your sweet partner a smile.

“Oh right!” He nodded, kissing your hand and backing away to close your door, then raced back inside, running into a gaggle of his family fighting to put on shoes and coats. “Excuse me, pardon me!” He barked, diving into the huddle, scrabbling for your shoes.

“Henry!” Nik shouted after him.

“I forgot her shoes!” Henry yelled over his shoulder, pelting back to the car. “Got them!” He smiled, sliding home into the driver's seat and dropping them onto the center console. “I'll put them on you, when we get to the hospital.” He told you, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, while ordering Alexa to map the route to Jersey General Hospital, the very hospital where he and his brothers had been born.

“Speed limit, Cavill!” You reminded him, frowning.

“Baby!”

“He's not going to pop out right now!!”

“He could!

“Between the two of us, Hank, I'm damn sure he's not!” You snapped back, through a contraction. “Deep b-breaths! ” You wheezed, through the pain.

“Relax your shoulders, don't clench your jaw, take a deep breath in....and let it out!” Henry reciting your Douala and doing the technique with you. “Amazing, baby doll. I'm so proud of you.”

“Jesus Christ on a motorbike.” You sighed as the pain faded. “We're waiting at least three years before we have our daughter.” You panted over at him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Henry laughed, holding his hand out to you. “Whatever you want.”

“I know what we should name him.” You said, softly.

“Oh?” He replied, pulling into the hospital parking lot. “What?”

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “I want to name him, Charlie.” You told him, biting the corner of your lip, you'd put a lot of consideration into it over your pregnancy. “We wouldn't have met, if your brother didn't nag you to come talk to me at that club.”

Biting his lip, a heart shaped lump thumping in his throat. “You're right.” He whispered; voice raw.

Charlie had prodded him for an hour, while supplying him with shots of liquid courage, to finally cross the club you both were in. You were with your friends, blowing off steam after a long work week, and Henry, Charlie and two other friends of Henry's were just hanging out, since he was in town and not working on any projects.

He never forgot the look on your friends' faces as he approached your table, recognizing him, melting into the dark leather of your corner booth and mumbling to each other with hungry, googly eyes. But you, while surprised a celeb was approaching you, hadn't fawned over him, like they did. You'd kept your cool, with jittery insides. Henry politely acknowledged everyone at the table, but his blue eyes were set on you. He asked, trying to have a persona of cool and calm, if he could get you a drink, noting on the way over, yours was empty, and with relief, you'd said yes. So, you dislodged yourself from your friends and followed him to the bar. Striking up a conversation with him, that moved to an empty table, after getting your drinks and lasted until the announcement the club was closing, at two am.

Neither of you had wanted to move apart, but it was late and you both knew it. So, you exchanged numbers and texted while you got yourselves home, then fell asleep. Making the promise to have a proper dinner the next day.

All of which snowballed to this moment. Sitting in the car at the hospital, married and staring at each other between contractions, discussing the name you wanted for your first born, for your son.

“It's perfect.” He nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could ask for nothing more for Christmas, than you and our son, for Charlie.” He choked up, leaning across to kiss you deeply.

@winter2112rose / @littlefreya / @kemillyfreitas / @thereisa8ella / @courtlynwriter / @starfirewildheart / @beck07990 / @goldenirishpotato / @pipsqueakkitten

#viking-raider fics #A Christmas Miracle #A Christmas Miracle *Fic* #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill RPF #British Actor RPF #Fluff #Cotton Candy Fluff #Christmas Fluff #Christmas Story #Christmas Fic #new fic #henrycavill #In-Laws

[bakanokiwami]

TOP 10 CELEBRITIES & REAL PEOPLE FANDOMS ON AO3 BASED ON NUMBER OF FANWORKS, SINGLE CATEGORY TAGS ONLY VERSION (2009-2022)

If you want to see the Celebrities & Real People bar chart with the multi-category fandoms included, please check this post.

To make these bar chart race, all series titles in the Celebrities & Real People Category on November 29 (or the closest date to it) of every year were copy-pasted from Wayback Machine to Google Sheets, rearranged according to number of fanworks, manually filtered for fandoms belonging in only one category, and then inputted to Flourish to turn into a bar chart race.

Locked fanworks aren't included in the count because Wayback Machine can’t view those, only Ao3 users can.

Japanese Actor RPF was reduced to 9.66% of its total fanworks by 2015 because Johnny's Entertainment was removed from its subtags.

British Actor RPF was reduced to around 70% of its total fanworks by 2017 because RPF of various media was removed from its subtags.

Fandom tags that are no longer in the Celebrities & Real People category tag as of posting this are left out of the bar chart race. These tags are usually either miscategorized or already have other tags referring to the same fandom.

For tags that existed on the same years before eventually merging into one tag later on (such as CW Network RPF which later on merged with Actor RPF, I use the data of whichever tag has the highest number for that year. 

Please refer to this post for more bar chart races.

Thanks for understanding and hopefully I didn’t mess up anywhere! 🙏

#ao3 #archive of our own #fandom history #real person fiction #rpf #actor rpf #sports rpf #supernatural #supernatural rpf #football rpf #british actor rpf #chinese comedian rpf #historical rpf #motorsport rpf #the untamed #the untamed rpf #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #lord of the rings #lotr #lord of the rings rpf #american actor rpf #marvel cinematic universe #marvel chinematic universe rpf #japanese actor rpf #new zealand actor rpf #star trek #star trek rpf #canadian actor rpf #australian actor rpf

[lokidokieokie]

The “L” Word

Summary: You and Benedict had only been dating for three months when he had to leave to film for Sherlock. Three months later and he still hadn’t come home; you missed him like crazy. The nightly calls were the only thing that got you through the day. And, after one particularly draining day, you accidentally let the “L” word slip...

Pairing: Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Warning(s): fluff overload (I didn’t know I was capable of writing this much fluff), Benedict being all cute, adoring pet names, some naughty words 🫢 (whose really surprised at this point?)

Walking through your front door to a cold and empty house was sadly the new norm for you. Ever since Ben had left to film the latest season of Sherlock, everything was just...off. Your home didn't feel the same without him.

Entering your home felt weird without the welcome home kiss that Ben would give you; sleep was hard to come by without his loving arms draped around your waist; and how were you meant to get through the day without his little cheeky messages?

Nothing was normal anymore, and God you missed Ben. You longed for the day he would come home, so you could sleep in his arms again--for the day that everything would become normal again.

The only thing getting you through this was the nightly phone calls; at least you could hear his voice before you fell asleep. But trying to occupy your mind until then was always a challenge.

Today's method: cleaning and decluttering the house. Hopefully that can occupy you long enough.

At exactly 8 o'clock, your phone began blasting the Sherlock theme tune causing you to drop your broom as you bolted towards it; narrowly missing tripping over the ottoman to get to it.

"Ben!" You excitedly exclaimed.

You could practically hear him smile through the phone, "Hello, Love."

"How's my favourite high-functioning sociopath doing today?"

Ben laughed, "He's doing alright, but he wants to know how his favourite girl's big presentation at work went today."

Conversations with Ben were pretty much the highlight of your day. You got to hear what shenanigans that cast of Sherlock got up to, he got to hear about the weird guy at work who sat at a table across from his tie and talked to it during lunch. It was pretty much just pure and utter nonsense that made you miss him that much more.

"I miss you so much, Darling."

You sighed softly, "I miss you too, Ben."

“How is it already eleven o’clock? It feels like I only began talking to you ten minutes ago.”

"Time flies when you're having fun, Benny." You giggled at his groan, he did not like that nickname.

"One day I'll give you a stern talking to about that nickname."

You rolled your eyes, "Sure you will, Benny, sure you will."

He sighed, "In all seriousness though, I've got to get to bed. Can't have Sherlock being even grumpier than he already is tomorrow. Good night, Love."

"Good night, Ben. I love you-" You quickly cut yourself off.

Shit. You just said the "L" word didn't you? This was not a conversation meant to be had over the phone. It wasn't something that should've been brought up at all.

Curse your tired self!

"Darling? Did you just-"

"I said nothing, good night!"

And with that, you quickly ended the call and practically threw your phone across the room.

That was not how the conversation was meant to go.

Grumbling to yourself, "This calls for some wine."

The sound of the doorbell continuously ringing roused you out of your somewhat peaceful sleep.

Who in the world would be ringing your doorbell at 3 in the morning?

Slowly clambering your way out of bed, the noise didn't cease.

"Cool your tits, I'm coming!"

Grumpily trudging down the stairs, you swore to all Gods out there that you would kill whoever was on the other side of that door.

Angrily opening the door you began scolding whoever it was, "Do you have any idea what time it-"

You were cut short by a pair of familiar lips dancing with your own. That was not something you were expecting when you opened your door at 3am.

"Ben? What are you doing here? It's 3 in the bloody morning."

"I don't like the way our conversation ended."

You anxiously began playing with your fingers. "It ended how every conversation does, with a good night."

He tsked, "You were never a good liar, Love."

You sighed, "I didn't mean to announce it like that. It kind of slipped-"

He smiled, "I love you, too."

You jerked your eyes up to meet his. "You do?"

He cupped your face in his hands, "You have no idea how long I've waited to tell you those three words. I wanted to make it all special, going out to a fancy dinner, maybe a walk around Hyde Park? Just something special where I could declare my undying love for you, Y/n."

A tear slipped down your cheek and you lightly chuckled, "I'm sorry I ruined that plan."

He shook his head and wiped your tear away, "You didn't. I couldn't have imagined a better way for me to tell you that I love you, Y/n. I practically did the whole running through the airport cliché. As soon as you ended the phone call, I kind of just stood there with a goofy smile on my face; Martin had to knock me out of my daze. As soon as he did, I bolted towards my car and drove the three and a half hours to get here. I needed you to know I love you."

You gave him a soft kiss, "I need you to know that I love you, Ben."

He gave you the goofiest smile possible. "Say it again, please."

You giggled, "I love you, Benedict Cumberbatch."

He pecked you on the lips, "I love you too, Y/n L/n."

That night, you finally got to fall asleep with Ben's loving arms wrapped around you; and you had never slept better.

Don’t know how I feel about this...but oh well :)

Find my masterlist here!

#benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch fan #benedict cumberbatch x reader #fluff #love confessions #love declaration #ben cumberbatch #benny cumberbatch #benny cumbatch #cumbercookies #cumberbitches #xreader #british rpf #rpf #benedict cumberbatch rpf #Benedicio Cumbecio #benedict cumberbatch x you #actor x reader #fluffy #fluff overload

[the-best-url-on-this-site]

I'M LOOKING AT MACBETH CROSSOVERS ON AO3 AND I'M LOSSSINNNGGGGG ITTTTTTT

"(BY THE SHAKING OF OUR ASSES) SOMETHING SILLY THIS WAY PASSES" WILL BE IN G R E A T COMPANY!

#SANS COMING TO MAKE MACBETH PAY FOR HIS SINSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHH #CHRISTMAS CAROL CROSSOVER???? #BIBLE/MACBETH/DISNEY'S BRAVE CROSSOVER????? #MACBETH FRANKENSTIEN??? #SUPERNATURAL CROSSOVER THERE WE GO! #WE GOT THE LORAX IN THERE #BRITISH ACTOR RPF HUH???? #THE BEATLES????????????? #PLANTS VS ZOMBIES??? #MINECRAFT SHDSHDHDHHDSSA #HAMILTON/MACBETH/HEATHERS/BEOWOLF #BARBIEEEEEE

[celestialsister0918]

So I know RPF is controversial and not everyone’s cup of tea (or coffee ☕️ in this case 😉), but I was super inspired to write this piece and hope I did early 90s Gary justice. I love this man for the amazing actor he is but also his good and bad points, and that’s what I tried to capture in this fic, while still keeping it sexy of course. If you love Gary or enjoy actor RPF, I’d be honored if you’d check it out and leave it some love! Not sure I’ll do any more RPFs, but this little plot bunny wouldn’t die, so I had to give it some life. ⚰️ 🩸 🦇

EXCERPT below links…

"An erotic movie about a guy in a coffin?"

He frowned. "Yes. His sleeps in the coffin give him the strength to find her. When he rests in the soil of his homeland he emerges youthful... sexy... powerful..."

His eyes were fixed on your face as those confounding lips disappeared behind white ceramic again.

“Sounds like an interesting guy to play," you commented, and he nodded in agreement.

“He is. It's heartbreaking really... the man loses his true love to a deception... then he comes back as pure evil having to seduce one of the 'true lights' in the world... his love reincarnated. I get to play him all sensuous and seductive of course, but in reality he's tragic. I suppose sex is sort of tragic like that in a way, right? Giving yourself to someone, dying a 'little death' inside of them, as the French say... la petite mort... But you're not really sure if they've really given themselves to you. Or if they did, then you're united in a way, but only for a second. Is it enough?"

His eyes seemed to cloud at that moment, and you weren't sure if it was method-acting immersion into his character's tragedy or real emotion being brought to the surface by some life trouble. You suspected the latter. Of course he'd be messy... a guy as beautiful as that had to be. You'd think that would be enough to send yourself running for the Hollywood Hills, but of course it wasn't.

"I truly love characters," you began quietly. "Sometimes more than my own friends and family, I'm afraid. I love their mystery, their depth, their possibility. I love that unlike a real person, they're just there... behaviors, motives, pasts... all right there on the table to plunge into and explore. I love when their behavior makes sense, and when I as a writer can make it make sense. It's very empowering."

“I agree," Gary said vehemently. "Except you're wrong about one thing... they are real. They exist out there somewhere, and it's my job to harness them and give them a body. Like it's your job to harness them and give them words."

And that was that. You were a goner. The most perfect specimen of a man on earth— 6' 2", rippling muscles, chiseled jaw, hair of the gods— could come walking through the door of the coffee shop right now, and you wouldn't give him a second glance because Gary Oldman sat before you and just reeled your heart in like a limp fish…

#garyoldman #gary oldman imagine #actor rpf #rpf #british actors #fanfiction #smut #weekendreads #coffeeshop #x reader #bram stoker's dracula #dracula 1992

[rpf-fanfiction6]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, British Actor RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), father/daughter relationships - Relationship, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Tom Hiddleston, father/daughter relationships - Character, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Series, Redemption, Sequel, older Tom Hiddleston, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Children, Teenagers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, tom hiddleston - Freeform, out of prison, Forgiveness, Attempted Seduction, Father-Daughter Relationship, Sins of the Father, Father-Son Relationship, Kissing, Freedom, Apologies, Flirting, Protective Siblings, Fear, Worry, Revenge, Implied Sexual Content, Birthday Party Series: Part 1 of The naughty teacher, Part 2 of The redemption of the naughty teacher Summary:

It had been 13 years, and Kerstin had got her life back together. She thought her past was the past, but then her daughter made contact with her father, Tom Hiddleston. in prison. Kerstin had done everything she could to prevent her children, Jacob and Stephanie, from knowing him. Will she forgive Tom or take the law into her own hands?

*** The sequel to The Naughty Teacher.

Chapter 5

#fanfiction #fan fiction #rpf #writing #british actor #tom hiddleston

[sillywoman01]

Chapter 9 of 'A Rumble in Birmingham ' now posted on A03

Rating: E

When New Yorker Sammie's job transfers her to England she meets her frustrating CEO Tom, who happens to be her neighbor and playboy Henry. Love and laughter transpire.

#original characters #original content #romantic comedy fic #love triangle #British actor rpf #tom hiddleston fanfic #henry cavill fanfic #british actor fanfiction

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro boys

[ramp-it-up]

What’s This?

Paring: Henry Cavill x Actress Reader x Sebastian Stan

Word count: 1 K

Summary: Halloween or Christmas? Why not both?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, RPF. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Flirting, suggestive language, definite praise kink,  drinking, slapping (and liking it), propositioning, finger fucking in public, implied threesome. 

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were at your hotel bar after the awards show, savoring your Macallans 18, with Henry’s deep baritone British drawl in your ear. You didn’t know Superman had game like this.

“What he doesn’t know about, he doesn’t need to know about. You said yourself, you two are not that serious. It’s just fun. Why can’t you have some fun with me, Love?”

“What kind of fun are you talking about?”

You took a slow sip of your whiskey and snaked your tongue out to collect stray liquid. Henry’s eyes followed every movement, taking in your glowing skin, the deep pools of your eyes, and those moist, juicy lips. He had to have you.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I want you. You are beautiful, charming, intelligent, and one of the best actors I’ve ever witnessed on screen. In every room where we have the fortune to be put together in, I’m inexplicably drawn to you. And I wonder…”

Henry stopped speaking and put his hand on your bare knee, your leg as smooth as velvet beneath the hem of your short couture dress.

You took another sip of your drink and slapped Henry.

A couple looked over at you two from across the dark, almost empty bar. The bartender minded his own business. And Henry, well Henry just smiled a cheshire grin and stared at you with those blue blue eyes. He wanted more of that spirit.

“You are being very forward, Mr. Cavill. What makes you think that I want to get down on my knees and suck that rumored very fat dick and let you cum all over my tits?”

You cocked your head like it was a real question.

Henry’s eyes dilated and he moved closer to you. He could bend you over the bar at that moment, but he had to restrain himself, and the monster that was awakened in his pants. You were so fucking hot.

Oh yeah, you were ready to get down, wanting to touch, feel and taste the dark hair that was curling from the shirt that he was wearing. You were about to invite him up to your room when you heard Seb’s voice behind you.

“What’s this?”

Henry looked up and grinned again as Sebastian ordered.

“Another Macallans for the lady, and one for me too.”

You turned toward your boyfriend and let him kiss you on your cheek. He whispered, “Naughty girl,” and bit your ear lightly.

You shivered as you cut your eyes back over to your other companion.

“Sebastian, you know Henry? Henry, Sebastian.”

Sebastian received his drink,

“Oh, Henry and I go waaayyy back, don’t we?”

Henry smiled again and looked at you. 

“Yes, we have similar tastes in…. Well, in lots of things.”

Sebastian finished the explanation, moving as close to you as Henry was on the other side of you.

“And we have shared…. Our ….thoughts on those things.”

The silence was full of meaning. 

Henry and Seb looked at each other over your head as you dipped yours to drink and ponder, and Henry put his hand on your thigh again. Sebastian put his hand on your other thigh and pulled it apart from the other, so as to enable both he and Henry to move their fingers higher.

You shivered, and opened your legs even wider. Sebastian kissed your temple.

“Such a good girl. Henry, don’t you think so?”

Henry looked down at your dress, which currently showcased your rock hard nipples. His voice was incredibly deep, and broken because he’d reached the wetness seeping down your thigh. You sighed as his fingers reached your folds. You whimpered when Sebastian’s mirrored his on the other side.

“Yes, I think we’ll find her to be a very good girl for both of us tonight? Right?”

Henry slipped his fingers into your wetness, exploring your innermost parts. Sebastian had you memorized and went directly and smoothly into circling your hole while Henry traced your clit.

You moaned a little and looked around. To anyone, you would look like three very close friends having a quiet conversation. No one knew that you were silently screaming for them both to fuck you in all of your holes.

Henry called to the bartender. 

“Another for the lady.” 

The bartender nodded as you thought of how much more fun you would be with three drinks in you. You smiled at your luck.

“So. Speaking of taste, d’you remember the debate we had with Tim Burton in Cannes?”

You couldn’t believe they were talking business while they defiled you in public. But you dared not speak a word lest you start moaning.

Henry pressed more roughly on your clit as Sebastian slipped another finger inside you and started fucking you with them right there at the bar. You couldn’t look at the bartender as he set your drink down and quickly moved away again.

“Drink, Darling.”

Sebastian commanded you with a stern whisper in your ear. You nodded, took a gulp, and then held on the the bar for dear life as they had their way and pretended it wasn’t happening.

“Yes, Henry, I remember it well. He verified what everyone else but you knows: The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Halloween movie.”

You looked at Sebastian in disbelief. He crooked his fingers inside you, finished his drink, and then watched as you trembled, trying to keep it together.

“Finish up the drink I bought you, Love. Don’t be rude.”

You drank some more as Henry pinched your clit. You let out an eep from the sensation, and both men gave you stern looks. Then ignored you again.

Except for them ruining you in a place of business.

“Mate,” Henry shook his head. “The climax of the story happens on Christmas Eve. It’s a Christmas movie!”

The debate became more vigorous as they became more vigorous with you. Sebastian was finger fucking you, digits in all available holes and crevices, and Henry was abusing your clit as much as he could in the available space that he had.

“It takes place in HALLOWEENTOWN!”

“But, it’s about how Halloween characters would celebrate Christmas.”

“There are three separate songs that are anti-Christmas, man.”

You felt like Superman or Bucky Barnes, and as if you could break the bar in half with the force of your orgasm. But, you managed to not make a sound.

“Beautiful girl.”

“So good for us, you precious Angel.”

You watched both men suck your juices off your fingers.

You stood up from your stool and downed the rest of your drink.

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween. It can be both at once.”

They both grinned at you like the cads they were. 

“Speaking of both. At once. Let’s go up to my room and continue this discussion.”

Henry hurriedly laid down cash for the drinks as Sebastian adjusted his pants. 

Tonight was going to be a good night.

For all.

If you liked it and you know it, hit reblog! 👏🏽👏🏽

#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22 #henry cavill rpf #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan rpf #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #henry cavill x black reader #sebastian stan x black reader #henry cavill x reader x sebastian stan #henry cavill x black actress reader x sebastian stan #henry cavill x actress reader x sebastian stan #ask dj #dj will answer

[diazsdimples]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie thanks friend!!

How many works do you have on ao3?

13! Will be 18 when I finish all my current wips (should be 19 but one has been abandoned 🥲)

What's your total ao3 word count?

230,841 words

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively 9-1-1, mostly because I deleted all my old British Actor RPF fics 😐

Top 5 fics by kudos:

1. Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie)

2. For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) (Buddie)

3. Sweet child of mine (Bucktommy)

4. In a drought I'll give you water (Buddie)

5. Fucking Finally (Finally Fucking) (Buddie)

Do you respond to comments?

Eventually 😬I try my best!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of my published fics have a shred of angst. However, Frostpunk AU is full of it so it'll be that

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them?? But probably Sweet child of mine or For the rest of my life (for the rest of yours) for hopeful endings

Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? I did have one person get mad at me for events that transpire in Buck's Baby (By Accident) but idc really

Do you write smut?

No. Never. Smut is terrible.

(This is a blatant lie, 7/13 of my fics are smut and I have 3 wips that have smut)

Craziest crossover?

I don't write crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I'm gonna throw hands

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of!

Have you co-written a fic before?

Currently co-writing 2 with @hippolotamus and @theotherbuckley!

All time favorite ship?

Buddie. Always Buddie. Will always be Buddie. Followed closely by Bucktommy

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I really hate to say this but probably my Single Dads AU. She's so beefy and the size of it has scared the hell out of me. As much as I love it, I don't think it gets as much traction as other wips and the beans just haven't been there.

What are your writing strengths?

I honestly don't know, I think I can write smut pretty well? And I'm not bad at cute stuff. The honest truth is I am extremely insecure about my writing abilities and think I'm average at best.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue as I often feel like I'm being too OOC. Also descriptions. I spend the most time sitting there thinking of how tf to describe something.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I can google translate pet names and that's where I draw the line. I don't want people to say that I'm saying stuff wrong.

First fandom you wrote in?

Marvel and Sherlock, at the same time.

Favorite fic you've written?

Play me like a fiddle is my labour of love and the fact that it flopped the way it did made me so sad. My next favourite would be You've got me whipped (Brat!Buck BDSM fic) cause it was so out of my comfort zone but I feel like I did it well, or In a drought I'll give you water because I have never been funnier in a fic than in this one.

Tagging (if you wanna): @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard

@neverevan @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg

@jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon

@kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @actuallyitsellie @loserdiaz @elvensorceress

@underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@thewolvesof1998

#james writes #20 questions #fic writer #author #911 fics #buddie fic #bucktommy fic #yes i am tagging both that's bc both ships feature here #do not come for me #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 buddie #911 fanfic #eddie x buck #tommy kinard #tevan #kinkley #buck x tommy #bucktommy

[thealogie]

growing up being compelled by old british actors (sir ian mckellen and sir patrick stewart) having insane chemistry gave me a nose for sussing out other old man actor chemistry but for MS and DT it is literally not needed bc it's like they're waving around a bat signal shaped like rpf. that being said i hope they make like the OG sir ian and sir patrick in 2014 and just randomly kiss on the gomens 3 red carpet. tv aziracrow is the cherik of a new generation in this specific instance

This reminds me of a DT interview a while back where he talks about being around pat stew and ian mckellen and DT going “they love each other so much! get a room!” like girl you don’t even know you’re about to be a whole generation’s Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen.

Unfortunately now more than ever we live an age where actors say truly unhinged things about each other but they don’t kiss anymore? It’s a tragedy

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Legacy - PART FOUR: MUTAGENS

Summary: What should have been a short stay in Beauclair, turns into something much more complicated. Both to your and Geralt's present and future.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Parts: I II III

Warning: PG - Witcher!AU, Dad!Geralt, Protective!Geralt, Sassy!Reader, Language, Nicknames, Medical Experiment, Portals, Monster Fight, Mention of Smut, Fluff, Mention of Grave Robbing, Witcher Mutagens, Bickering, Mage Technology

Inspiration: A subject from my story, A Witcher’s Destiny, Season Two of Netflix’s the Witcher and the quest, Turn and Face the Strange, in The Witcher 3!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to be added A Witcher’s Legacy Tag List, please message me!

I also have the story on my AO3

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

“Who's the letter from, Geralt?” You asked, watching the little carrier boy run off, excited about the ten crowns Geralt had kindly given him.

Frowning, Geralt unfolded the parchment, finding another piece of folded paper inside with a familiar writing in black ink. “Yennefer.” He said softly, casting his eyes up to you for a moment.

“Oh.” You replied, a tight smile pulling across your lips. “A wonder how she found out we were in Toussaint, since we just arrived.” You commented to yourself, moving to a vine covered staircase, with roses the size of your hand, the color of butter and the finest Toussaint Red, making the air so fragrant.

Letting out a humming grunt, Geralt read the letter aloud.

“My dear friend, I've been told you're on a jaunt in Toussaint, with your sweetheart. I've come upon some information which might be of interest to you. While browsing through a colleague's, Tomas Moreau's, book collection, I found mention of him conducting research into mutations.” Geralt scowled at the letter, a troubled feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. “The details I've come to learn are rather vague and his laboratory's location remains a mystery. Yet his journal should at least provide hints as to both. It is said he was laid to rest with it in his tomb. I enclose a map I found in the tome I happened upon. Though less than completely legible, I trust it will prove useful.”

“Your friend, Yennefer.”

“So, mutations.” You echoed, turning back to Geralt and folding your arms tightly over your chest. “What kind of mutations? Was he trying to mutate the normal stuff or do you think he was trying to fuss around with Witcher mutations?”

“It's hard to tell without finding his laboratory and discovering more about his research.” He replied, pushing his jaw forward has he stared down at the letter, mulling it over in his mind. “I need to look into this. If he was testing mutagens for Witchers, then I have to find it and get it back to Vesemir.”

“Before anyone else finds it.”

“All right then.” You nodded, chewing on your lip, just as concerned. “Where to first?” You asked, wishing to help.

“Yennefer's letter said he was possibly buried with the location of his laboratory.” He said, unfolding the map the Sorceress had enclosed. “So, we go there and find it.” Geralt examined the map for a long moment, his brow twitching in his concentration. “It looks as if he was buried in Orlémurs Cemetery. That's not too far from here.”

“We can walk.”

“Lovely.” You smiled, then glanced about. “Which way, you big grump?” You asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Geralt smirked back at you, waving a hand towards the gently sloping, pathway. “This way, Firefly.” He replied, with a cock of his head.

Nodding yours at him, you started down the brick street, Geralt following closely behind you. The Capital city of Toussaint, Beauclair, was gorgeous and it filled you with a light, gaiety that put a skip in your step and a pleased smile on your face. As you looked about. Taking the architecture in, the hot sun beaming down on top of your head and shoulders, reflecting your mood. Geralt smiled at the back of you, seeing and sensing the joyfulness inside of you. He felt it seep into him.

You had an effect on him and his ordinarily sulky moods.

“It's so beautiful here.” You commented, glancing at Geralt over your shoulder.

“That it is.” He agreed, looking about, seeing the bustling stalls and shops, the Toussaintois going about their business and day. “We'll have to make our stay a more serious one.” He said, moving around to your side, his arm wrapping around your waist as you passed through a thick crowd. “I know this is your first time here.” He smiled, dipping his head slightly to press his lips to your temple, in a rare show of public affection.

“Hm.” You hummed, nudging your shoulder into his side. “That would be nice.” You cooed, looking up at him, trusting him to guide you. “You do still have a few injuries to nurse from that Wyvern contract, you took in Caravista.”

He grunted back at you, still smiling as you crossed out of the city gates. “It's settled, then. I'll investigate this matter, and afterwards, we'll find the best room in the best inn, and we won't leave until you wish to.”

“So, until they kick us out?” You quipped, giggling.

“As you wish.” Geralt chuckled, as you both stepped off the paved path of Beauclair and onto the well trod trail to the large, Orlémurs Cemetery.

Making it to the Cemetery, that looked like a manicured set of ruins with grave-sites dotting it, you and Geralt drifted apart, searching the faces of cracked and crooked, tombstones, that had seen many years out in the open weather and tears of loved ones.

“What did Yenn say, this colleague of hers name was?” You called out to Geralt, reading the worn name of Patrick Moulins, who, according to his headstone, had talked himself to death.

“Tomas Moreau.” Geralt returned, walking along a line of graves, before stopping. “Found him!”

You joined him before the overgrown and disheveled grave, the heavy stone that was meant to seal Professor Moreau's coffin in the ground, slightly askew. You looked at Geralt a confused and questioning expression on your face. Frowning back at you, Geralt moved closer to the grave, dropping to a squat to read the mossy etching.

“Typical Mage. It's in Elder Speech.” He huffed, shaking his head. “Ellas k'havani allder aen Dol Naev'de, ellas allder n'corrason. Glorsann a'Aelirenn.” He read aloud, despite it sounding like gibberish to you. “Salvation lies not in Dol Naev'de, but in our hearts. Glory be to Aelirenn.” He translated, as he reached into the grave, through the small opening, feeling around.

“Oh god.” You frowned, biting your lip and imaging his hand touching one of the Professor's bones.

Not the worst thing he's ever touched, honestly. You thought, shaking your head.

“Do you think it has anything do with what you're looking for?” You asked, as he glanced side to side, knowing he was falling into his Witcher seek and find mode.

“Maybe.” He rumbled back. “Someone's robbed the grave, the journal isn't inside.” He said, narrowing his eyes against the bright, cloudless sun and looked around, before standing back up. “The grave won't tell us anything more.” He said, pull Yenn's map from his back pocket.

“A regular ol' treasure hunt.” You quipped, peeking around his arm. “Anything helpful?”

“The map has mention of Aelirenn and Dol Naev'de, also known as Valley of the Nine.” He said, pointing them out on the map for you. “There's a small mark on it. So, it's worth a look. I'll have to grab Roach to make the trip though. It's a long way from here.”

He folded the map up and tucked into his pocket, then turned back towards Beauclair.

“Geralt.” You called out to him, motioning to the grave, when he turned back to face you.

“What?” He frowned, not catching the meaning of your gesture.

“Close it.” You cooed at him, with a somber expression. “It's not right someone disturbed him for a book.”

“We just disturbed him for a book, min minne.” Geralt countered, the corner of his lip twitching.

“Still, Geralt. He deserves his rest, as we all do.” You entreated him.

Drawing a soft sigh, Geralt returned to the grave side and leaned over it, he used the strength of his powerful arms to shove the thick stone slab back into its rightful place over Professor Moreau's coffin. He straightened up and looked at you, lifting a brow, and you nodded at him, satisfied.

“One less dead person risen from the grave you have to deal with.” You commented, sarcastically. patting him on the back and kissing his cheek.

“Funny.” Geralt chuckled, giving your bum a playful smack, making you yip. “You can't come with me.” He said, as you returned to Beauclair and where you had left Roach.

“Why not?” You frowned, a bit disappointed, you enjoyed helping him with his contracts.

“I don't know how dangerous this could be.” He reasoned, grabbing Roach by the reins. “I won't endanger you. So, I'm going to take you to the Rose and Knight inn, in the center of the City, and you'll wait for me there.”

“What if something happens to you?” You argued, following after him, while he led you through the streets.

“What else would be new?” He chuckled at you over his shoulder.

“The new thing is this matter isn't about you going to slay a monster in the countryside.” You huffed, annoyed by how nonchalant he was being. “This professor was mucking about with mutations.”

Geralt's shoulders slumped and he stopped, his head hung for a second, before he finally turned around to look at you. He could see all the concern and fear in your eyes over this task, more so than usual. Which he understood. Considering it for a minute longer, Geralt tugged Roach around and mounted up, then reached down and pulled you up behind him.

“If anything should happen-”

“I know, I know.” You assured him, leaning against his back. “Tuck tail and run.”

The ride through the Toussaint countryside was stunning. The rolling hills of vineyards baking in the cloudless sun, their vines drooping with fat grapes waiting to be picked and turned into area's finest wine. Homey and extravagant villas dotted the landscape as well, abuzz with their daily chores as you Geralt rode by them.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against Geralt's shoulder blade, relaxing. “I could stay here forever.” You cooed, as Geralt guided Roach onto a path that led in a thicket of trees, cooling you with their leaf-y shade, after the unrelenting heat.

“Oh.” Geralt answered, his chuckle rumbling against your cheek. “That's because you haven't seen it in the winters.”

“It can't be much worse than Kaer Morhen.” You commented, smirking.

“Oh, you'd be surprised.”

Coming out of the woods and around the bend of a sloping hill, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop on the shore of a large and startling clear lake, where the two of you got down. Geralt took a sword from a holster that hung the horse's saddle and the pouch of his vials from in the bag, before the two of you started looking for any indication of an entrance to a mysterious laboratory. You walked along the one side of the shore, where the bank was built up, eroded from years of the lake water lapping at, while Geralt check the water.

“What is it with Mages and their mysteries?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“They live too long.” Geralt grunted back. “After so many years on the Continent, they become paranoid and full of themselves.”

“Starting to make a lot of sense.” You agreed, spotting a unique little rock sitting on the edge of the sand and grass. Going for the rock, you noticed a narrow, grassy culvert that went back a good way. You couldn't see where it ended, or if there was an end, with the limbs of several trees flanking the culvert drooping over it, like a leafy curtain.

“Geralt.” You called out, cocking your head and taking a step into the ditch. “What about over here?” You mumbled, inching further.

The Witcher turned, just as you disappeared and called out your name. “She'll be the death of me.” He sighed, hurrying to follow after you. “Wait.” He hissed under his breath, grabbing you by the wrist as he came up behind, pulling you to a halt. “We don't know if the Professor's lab is down here or what is.”

“You need to be careful.” He softly scolded you, protectively.

“Sorry.” You whispered back, but cast your eyes up ahead. “But don't you think we should check it out?”

“I will investigate it. You will stay behind me.” Geralt corrected you, pulling his sword and moving forward.

You stayed on Geralt's heels, while he used the tip of his sword to part the tree branches, the muscles of his body tense and every one of his keen senses on high alert for anything out of the ordinary and wishing ill intent. You jerked and gasped softly at the whoop of a bird in the distance, instinctively grabbing the back of Geralt's black shirt.

Coming out of the other side of the foliage, you and Geralt discovered a decayed stone wall. It was covered in moss and dead, creeping vines, several of its ashy stones laying in the spongy, overgrown grass and mud. You saw nothing special about it and figured Geralt hadn't either, so you started to turn back.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled under his breath, stopping you.

“What's wrong?” You frowned, turning back to him.

“I hate portals.” He scowled, moving closer to stone wall and bent over, picking up what you had figured was just a rock, then slotted it into one of the gaps.

A low hissing, hum filled the space around you and the hair on your forearms stood up as the static from the portal mounted. Geralt stepped back from the wall, took a deep breath, and with a jerk of his arm, produced the Sign of his Aard. The Aard hit the stone, making it wobble in its base, before it started to glow and an arched portal appeared on the face of the wall.

“That's promising.” You commented, looking at Geralt with a lifted brow.

He shot you a dark, narrow eyed look and approached the portal, taking deep slow breaths. “What's wrong with a good, solid locked door?” He complained under his breath, before stepping through.

“Kills giant, poisonous monsters for a living. Terrified of portals.” You grinned, hooting with laughter, and following after him.

You came stumbling out the other side, gasping for air, disoriented and nauseous. But managed to land on your feet and was slowed down by Geralt's strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his torso. He looked you over, with an expression that wanted to make sure everything was in the right place and you had all the part you were meant to have.

“I'm fine, Geralt.” You cooed at him, gently kissing his stubbly cheek.

Nodding, he let you go and glanced around the cavernous room you had been spit out into. It smelled damp, moldy, airless and like a nest of Kikimore had been using it as a litter box. You could hardly see more than two feet in front of you, but thankfully Geralt had no such issue. His sharp, cat-like eyes could see around you, as if it was a well lit room. So, you made sure to keep near him, putting your feet where his had been.

The place was like Elven ruins that had caved in or been covered over across time. With tall arches and columns. Rubble and rubbish littered the ground, making your footing unsure as you went deeper in. Geralt stopped, causing you to bump him, your lips parting in question of why he had halted, until you saw the spark of his Igni, lighting something you couldn't quite make out in the shadows. Until, it ignited, a iron brazier, casting an amber glow against the wall and a small radius around its base.

“This is a crazy place to have a lab.” You criticized, giving the place a better look, now that the brazier was lit. “I can understand wanting to do your research in peace and privacy. But hiding your portal in such away, then having to navigate through a ruin to get to it.” You shook your head, confused.

“It seems like over kill.”

“It is.” Geralt agreed, lighting another brazier, that revealed a crumbling set of stairs. “It's only making me more suspicious of what type of mutagens he was working with.”

Your eyes shot up to the back of his head, an uneasy feeling filling your stomach at the thought of Professor Moreau testing Witcher mutagens.

Carrying on, you descended the stairs and passed through a narrow hallway, coming out into an elevated cross way, leading off in three directions, one of which was blocked off by a large statue of a panther. Sighing, Geralt moved forward, investigating the other two paths, in doing so, he discovered the body of the grave robber.

“Hm.” He grunted, shaking his head at the poor soul, but nevertheless, he searched his person for the Professor's journal, only finding a few loose pages of it.

“Geralt.” You called out, softly.

“One moment.” He answered, scanning the pages, learning the Professor had become paranoid with someone trying to break into his laboratory, and had installed security measures.

“Geralt.” You called again, a bit more urgently.

“What is it, min minne?” He sighed, turning on his heels to look back at you.

Your eyes were fixated on the panther statue standing menacingly above Geralt. “Is-is that-” You licked your lips, trying to compose yourself. “Is that statue-the panther's eyes—supposed to glow?” You asked, your voice squeaking a bit at the end as your eyes flared.

Geralt's head jerked upward to the statue, just in time to have the creature strike out against him. “Run!” He roared back at you, fumbling for his sword.

Not needing any other prompts, you turned on your heels and bolted down the hallway from where the two of you had just come. The panther knocked Geralt flat onto his back, forcing him to brace his forearm against its throat in prevention of its powerful jaws from biting into anything vital. Unable to grab his sword, Geralt brought up one foot, yanking a dagger from inside his boot and driving the needle thin blade into the snarling animal's neck. The panther gurgled, then dissolved into a pile of ash, revealing itself to be a specter, one of Professor Moreau's security attempts.

Getting up, Geralt searched for you, running almost full speed down the passageway and up the crumbling stairs. But skid to a halt, when he found you by the first brazier, a look of terror and worry on your face. Seeing Geralt was all right, you ran to him, colliding into his chest and locking your arms around his torso, to hide your face in his neck.

“You see now, why I didn't want you to come?” He sighed, resting his head on top of yours.

You nodded, still to overcome to speak for a second. “I do, but I still want to help.”

“I don't know what help you can be.” He countered, tipping your head back, so you looked at him, studying your eyes. “You are the most stubborn woman I've ever met.” He chuckled, shaking his head, knowing he couldn't deter you.

“It's why you fell in love with me.” You quipped back at him.

“One of the reasons.” He teased back, before becoming serious again. “You'll stay in the room I've cleared, before going any farther, do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear, Witcher.” You nodded, pushing up on your toes to kiss him.

Continuing on, You and Geralt navigated through the maze, hoping you were getting closer to the Professor's lab and the answers to your questions. There hadn't been any more specters to jump out and attack either, but there had been a few traps Geralt needed to disarm, before either of you could move forward. Such as a spike trap, that came up out of the floor.

“This place is endless.” You remarked, edging around the disarmed spikes, heart pounding in your chest.

“Seems that way.” Geralt answered, waiting for you, then entered the next room. “The fuck.” He barked, brow wrinkling.

“What?” You called out, staying in the other room, just like he wanted you to. “Is it safe?”

Geralt took a deep breath, studying the creepy Gargoyles that lined alcoves on the main level, with an inactive portal, while the next two levels were lined with inactive portals. “Stay there.” He barked, slowly approaching two pedestals in the center of the room, on either side of a massive statue, and examined them, finding scrap marks on the sides.

Looking at the Gargoyles, he noticed two of them were missing hands. Narrowing his eyes, Geralt approached one and broke the hand off with blast of his Aard. Taking the heavy piece of stone to the pedestal, he rested it on top and a loud clicking noise echoed in the room, followed by the unmistakable whoosh of a portal opening. Turning in a circle and casting his eyes around, Geralt found one of the portals on the upper level active.

“Geralt.” You shouted, planting you hands on your hips.

“Just wait.” He growled, seeing if he could map out a way up to the portal, but wasn't sure where it would take him or if he could get back.

Taking the stone hand off the first pedestal, Geralt shifted it to the other one, gaining the same results he did with the other one, but opening a portal on the middle tier. Humming, he broke off another Gargoyle hand and set it on the other pedestal, activating both portals, but not the portal on the main level.

“What's the issue, Geralt?” You called out to him, growing curious.

“Mage shenanigans.” He growled under his breath, circling the statue and regarding the other gargoyles and inactive portals.

Impatient with waiting for Geralt to tell you the way was safe, you strode into the room, but jerked back a step, surprised by the thick set of grotesque gargoyles. You recovered quickly though, spotting the singing portals and your frustrated Witcher.

“What's the rub?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“That portal-” He pointed to the portal in question. “needs to activate. But so far, only these two have.” He explained, motioning to the others.

“Mmhm. Quite the situation.” You nodded, biting your lip.

“Yes.” Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I loathe mages.”

“Didn't you date one?” You inquired, giving him a teasing and sharp gaze.

“Against my better judgment.” He replied, rolling his eyes.

“So, what happens, if you only have one of the pedestals active?” You asked, studying them.

“Only one of the portals open.”

“Have you tried going through one of them?”

“No, not yet, and I'm not really in a rush to.” He answered, pacing. “I don't know where they go, or if once I go through them, that I can get back here.”

“Perhaps, you're right.” You sighed, gazing at the statue. “Mages do live too long.”

That brought a soft chuckle out of Geralt. “They do.”

Seeing no other options, Geralt began climbing towards the portal on the middle tier, just as you noticed a crevice, low in the robe of the statue. Glancing between it and Geralt, you slipped your hand inside of it, praying not to come into contact with any unsavory creatures that could make their home in the small space, and felt around.

“Geralt, wait!” You called out, your fingers coming into contact with something.

“What is it!” He called back, spinning around as he stood before the portal. “What's wrong?”

“I found something! But I can't quite manage it.” You told him, staining.

“Don't touch it!” He warned you, jumping back down and quickly moving to your side. “It might be a trap.” He told you, his breath hot on your neck.

“And if it's not?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Move, I'll do it. Go back into the other room. In case, something happens.” He ordered you, jerking his white head towards the door.

Knowing that arguing with Geralt was useless, you did as he asked of you, but angled yourself so you could see him. Geralt pulled his glove off and wedged his large hand into the crevice, just finding the button that was hidden inside. With a little wiggling, he pressed on the button and yanked his hand back out again, readying himself for the worst.

Several of the gargoyles turned on hidden bases in the floor, all turning to face the statue and the direction of the inactive bottom portal, and a suspenseful moment later, the portal came to life. Geralt let out a huff of amused surprise, looking the portal over.

“It worked!” He called out to you. “And, it's safe.”

You ran into the room and grinned at the portal, proud that you had figured out a Mage's security system, but felt your stomach twist a little bit. “So, do we go through it?” You asked, looking up at Geralt.

“It's through there or back the way we've come.” He replied, pulling his glove back on. “I'll go first, in case there's anything dangerous.”

“Very well, I'll wait a minute, then follow after you.” You nodded, lightly touching his arm.

Nodding, Geralt stepped through the portal with no further ado and you waited anxiously for a minute or two, stomach in knots not knowing if Geralt was in the fight for his life on the other side, wherever it led. Unable to wait any longer, you slipped through the portal after him, coming out the other side gasping and sick to your stomach, but intact.

“Geralt?” You called out, pressing a hand to your tummy.

“Welcome to Professor Moreau's laboratory.” He replied, coming from around a corner.

You looked about the strange and disheveled space with a shake of your head. “I expected more.” You answered, moving down a set of stairs.

Geralt had lit the many braziers and standing candelabras situated around the room, giving the already unsettling room an unsettling feeling. You found cluttered tables, bookcases, tall brass instruments, a Mage communication device, a large, iron cage and a huge and grotesque, glass specimen jar with something black and almost human floating in it.

“Well, have you learned anything yet?” You asked, hugging your arms against your chest, even with the braziers, there was an eerie cold about the place.

“There are Megascope crystals on a pillow next to Moreau's Megascope.” He motioned to them, next to the mage communication system of three stands, that stood in a circle, a loop at the top, where the crystals rested and a powerful piece of glass to project the image magically etched onto the crystal. “I found another on that desk over there.” He added, motioning over to it.

“I'm going to see what our dear Professor has on them.” He said, moving over to the Megascope.

“I can dig around, see if there are anymore.” You said, glancing about. “Or anything else of interest.”

“All right, just don't touch whatever those are.” He said, pointing to the brass instruments, one of which looked like a strange Iron Maiden.

“Don't have any plans to, love.” You gulped, getting goose-bumps as you edged by them.

Geralt picked up the three crystals, slotting them into the Megascope and turned the rune cylinder at the bottom of one of them, activating that specific crystal's information. A bleak image of Professor Moreau, devoid of color, flickered to life in the center of the Megascope stands. Professor Moreau wore typical mage robes, he had a wrinkled face with a pair of pinch glasses perched on his nose, and spoke with a typical Toussaint accent.

“Today, I begin my great life's endeavor, one greater and more significant than any I have thus far undertaken, for it relates to me personally. To me and my son.” He spoke, confessing his son, Jerome, was a Witcher and he made an oath to recover him, his apparition turning in circles as he spoke.

“So, it is Witcher mutagens.” You said, poking around a bookcase.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, troubled.

The crystal ended with the Professor vowing, Gods being on his side, to reverse the Witcher mutagens in Jerome and make him an ordinary man again.

“I wonder if the Professor managed to do so.” He frowned, turning on the next crystal.

“Observation twenty-two, despite applying a surfeit of toxic substances, significantly more than usual, the subject displayed no symptoms of overdose.” Professor Moreau's reanimated projection explained, as Geralt stroked his scruffy cheek. “This is a minor success. Jerome may be able to tolerate better toxicity.”

The crystal ended with a soft pop and Geralt moved on to the next crystal, explaining how to make the mutagens less taxing and listing the mutagen base. He slotted the last crystal he had in, listening to Moreau speak about how one mutagen could be transmuted into another through the addition of certain ingredients, and of his subject, though on the brink of death, was much stronger than he had been and came back from the edge of death.

“It seems he's enhanced his subject, instead of cured them.” Geralt commented, more to himself than you.

“Have you never met this Jerome?” You asked, coming to stand beside him.

“No.” He shook his head. “But that's not too uncommon. He might be from another Witcher school or dead.”

“Ah. Well, I did find the Professor's journal on Witcher Mutagens.” You informed him, holding up the worn, purple, cloth bound book to him. “I suppose, you want to take it and the Megascope crystals back to Kaer Morhen with us.”

Geralt gave you a golden glance from the corner of his eyes, that told you he did, but not before getting into something you weren't going to be happy about. You sighed at him, letting your hand drop back to your side, eyes falling shut for a moment.

“You want to test this mutagen stuff out, don't you?” You asked, needlessly.

“I do.” Geralt answered, with a short nod.

“Why?” You groaned, looking up at him with a pleading look. “Can't we at least go to Kaer Morhen and do it in a safe environment, with Vesemir? That way, if something happens, we'll have him to revive your stupidity?”

A broad grin passed over his lips. “But all the equipment is already here, min minne.” He cooed at you. “We'd have to build all of it at the Keep.”

“Then, you'd have to fight Eskel and Lambert for first go inside.” You added, knowing that was going to be his next argument. “I thought you were over the whole Trial of the Grasses! You bitch about how hard it was! How much it hurt and blah blah! But you're all pony up to do this?” You scolded him, shaking your head. “Jaskier would be tripping over his lute, if he was here to witness this.”

“What if it fails and you die!” You protested, waving the book in his face.

“I'm sure I'll be fine.” He smiled, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

You rolled your eyes at him. “It's not like I can talk you out of it. So, what do you need me to do?” You sighed, giving in.

“I want you to go through his book and tell me what ingredients I need.” He said, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek, trying to pacify you.

“Very well.” You glanced around and found a low stool by the table, next to the strange Iron Maiden, and took it up, starting to skim through the book, while Geralt investigated the rest of the laboratory.

“Something about a Pale Widow.” You said aloud, still skimming. “Getting a syringe full of mutated giant centipede albumen from the Pale Widow and the Ashwagandha herb.” You looked up at Geralt.

“That's all it states.”

“Well, he has to have it readily here.” Geralt answered, scanning the room, spotting an opening in the stone wall inside the iron cell and a well used needle on the wooden table you sat beside. “Stay here, I'll be right back.” He said softly, heading that way.

“Ger-” You started to call after him, before giving up and going back to reading the book.

Geralt ducked into the opening in the wall, finding a dank and dripping tunnel, following it into a large, cavernous space, the floor deep with stinking mud. He slowly pulled his sword as he dropped into the mud, knowing a space like this was a ripe place for a creature to live and attack. But he only saw the walls lined with eggs, quiet and dormant. His medallion was still, giving no indication of magic or monster wishing ill intent upon him.

Though, he kept a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, approaching one of the eggs. He squatted down and pulled the dagger from his boot, slicing open the egg, to be greeted with a putrid scent, making his nose wrinkle. There was a long dead, juvenile, mutated giant centipede inside. Geralt wouldn't have been surprised if the Professor had been keeping its parent as a pet, breeding it for the eggs in his countless Mutagen experiments, then killed the elder after he gave up, leaving the babies to starve and rot off.

Stuffing his dagger back into his boot, Geralt pricked the curled up corpse with the syringe and drew out what little albumen was left inside of it, getting half a syringe full. He cut open another, until the needle chamber was full, then returned to you.

“All right, Albumen acquired.” He said, holding up the syringe.

“I found the herb, Ashwagandha, in one the chests.” You answered, pointing to where you laid it on the table. “All you have to do, is put them both in that boiler, then get into the machine yourself.” You told him, a hard lump forming in your throat, at the thought of your beloved Wolf getting into the iron maiden contraption.

Nodding, Geralt set the syringe down carefully, along with his sword, before pulling off his boots. He stripped naked and looked at you, seeing the worry and conflict on your face. “I'll be fine, Firefly.” He cooed at you, reaching out to cup your cheek for a moment.

“You best be, or I'll never forgive you.” You whimpered back, turning your head to kiss his palm.

Adding the ingredients and activating it, Geralt stepped into the machine, while you stood there, helplessly. You paced before the machine for several minutes, figuring that's all it would take, listening to it pop, hiss and clank. But ten minutes went by and Geralt didn't step out. Thirty minutes, still Geralt was inside. You grew concerned, debating on whether or not you should open it and check on him.

Perhaps he'd passed out and couldn't open the door himself? Or what if he was-

No, he's fine. You cut off the thought, pressing a fist to your mouth. He knows what he's doing. Geralt knows his limits. You tried reassuring yourself, pacing from the bottom of the stairs to the back of the room, your restless impatience growing as the hour and half mark was passed.

You started at the sound of unoiled hinges opening, lifting your head from the table you had rested yourself on, several hours before. However, seeing the door to the machine open and realizing Geralt was finally coming out, you jumped to your feet and rushed to him, just getting your arms around his torso as his legs gave out from under him.

“Geralt!” You panted, feeling his burning skin through your clothing, his head heavy on your shoulder as you both went down to your knees. “Are you all right?” You inquired, hearing his breathing slightly labored.

You cupped his face in your hands and pushed his head up, shocked to find his eyes glowing, the skin of his face dark and marked with black lines, as if he had taken one of his potions or elixirs. He didn't speak for a long time, just catching his breath and resting against you, his eyes and skin returning to normal.

“I'm all right.” He rasped, gulping thickly, his throat and mouth dry. “I'll be all right.” He groaned, pushing himself up onto his feet, wobbling for a second. “How long was I in there for?”

“Hours.” You replied, standing as well. “I was starting to think you weren't coming back out.”

He nodded, moving around the table for his clothing, which in your anxious impatience, you had folded. “We should go.” He said, sluggishly pulling them on.

“For fuck sake, Geralt, sit down and rest for a moment.” You barked at him, pointing to the stool by his leg.

“I'm fine.” He grunted back at you, bunching up his black shirt to pull it over his head and jamming his feet into his boots.

“All right, fine.” You huffed back. “While you were having a merry jaunt in there, I found a map of this place in the Professor's journal.” You told him, with a lifted brow. “Behind that bookcase is supposed to be a hidden passage out, that's shorter.”

“Good.” He nodded, looking towards the Megascope.

“I have the crystals and the journal.” You assured him, resting your hand on his back, feeling the tense muscles there. “I took care of all that, while waiting for you to finish cooking in your Mutagen steamer.” You quipped, forcing a smirk.

Grunting and nodding again, Geralt continued and shoved the bookcase out of the way, finding a vulnerable wall behind it. Without hesitation, he used his Aard on the loose bricks, blasting them inward and rocking the room around you.

“Gods alive!” You gasped, grasping the back of Geralt's arm.

Geralt chuckled and the two of you followed the low ceiling tunnel, finding another portal, that was simply activated by a crystal that laid on the ground. Stepping through, you found yourselves back on the shore of the lake, but a mile or two down from where you had originally entered. With a shrill whistle, calling Roach, you and Geralt walked along the water, to meet the horse, while also enjoying the fresh and cool air.

“I look forward to that luxurious room at the inn.” You commented, getting up behind Geralt on Roach. “To a nice, hot bath. That experiment has made you a bit-foul.” You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder and peeking around at him.

“More than usual?” He asked, cocking a brow at you.

“Just a tad.” You laughed, squeezing your arms around his waist.

He spurred Roach back to Beauclair and got a handsome room for the two of you, at the Rose and Knight Inn, that sported its own tub and a balcony, letting you see the vineyards and apiaries in the rolling hills past the city gates in the distance. You stayed for two weeks, not leaving the room for anything. Having your meals brought up to you. Preferring to stay in bed or the bathtub together. It was romantic and refreshing.

#Geralt of Rivia #Viking-Raider Fics #Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Geralt #The Witcher #Witcher #What should have been a short stay in Beauclair #Turn and Face the Strange #A Witcher's Legacy #A Witcher's Legacy *fic* #the witcher wild hunt #Wild Hunt #Witcher 3 #Mages #Toussaint #Beauclair #British Actor RPF #Geralt of Rivia RPF #Geralt RPF #Witcher!AU #Geralt of Rivia x You #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Dad!Geralt #Dad!Geralt of Rivia #geralt of rivia x y/n #Geralt x You #Geralt x Reader #geralt x y/n

[josephquinnn]

Alias

part one - part two

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were supposed to guide David Harbour during the launch of the Stranger Things game that the company you work for created, however, he cancels at the last minute. His replacement? Joseph Quinn.

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don't read if it's not your jam), fem!reader, fluff

Author’s note: This is the kick-off fic for this page, so please be kind. I have several ideas in mind that I'm currently working on, so stay tuned for more!

“Ladies and gentlemen, Corendon Airlines welcomes you to Amsterdam. The local time is 9 P.M. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate.”

While this hadn’t been your first time visiting Amsterdam, the reason why was very different this time. Or perhaps not that different, were it not that you had a very personal reason why it was so different for you. The company you worked for, GED International, had developed an immersive multiplayer game to kick off the fifth and final season of Stranger Things. Aside from your love from the show, you also had a huge admiration for the cast. And while being a part of the release of Stranger Things: Invading The Upside Down was really cool in itself, the fact that you were pointed to be the guide of the one and only David Harbour had you jittery for weeks. It made sense that an actor would fly over to promote it, but you hadn’t expected it regardless. It just wasn’t how your luck usually worked. Not this time though. This time, you were the one who was going to show Jim Hopper around Amsterdam, as that was where the event would take place all around the city. You were well acquainted enough with the city, having spent several years working there on and off. It always felt like a weird coming home, although this time you would reside in a hotel for a couple days. One day for the event, two leisure days.

After waiting for a good twenty minutes, you were finally able to get up from your seat and out of the plane, on your way to get your luggage. Your colleagues already arrived earlier to set up several things, but since your task was literally getting David from A to B and entertaining him a little during, you didn’t have to be earlier than the evening beforehand. The wait for your luggage to show up was as stressful as ever, but thankfully the rollerband hadn’t disappointed you once and quietly (not really) provided you with your suitcase after some time. On your way to the hotel you decided to grab a quick bite from the popular fries shack that was quite literally on your way towards The Dam, along with what the Dutch call a “frikandel”, which was essentially a lengthy meat stick. It was a craving you had whenever you visited the Netherlands, which your colleagues thought was the funniest thing after you described it to them for the first time. The Dutch had more things you had a weak spot for though, such as “stroopwafels” and their delicious tiny pancakes that they called “poffertjes”. You’d probably indulge and get it the next day, if you had the time. Your hotel wasn’t far removed from The Dam, which was still bustling in the late summer evening, with their street artists keeping up the crowd. You had to unpack, iron your clothes and get ready for bed though, so there was no time to stick around.

You nearly bumped into a guy on your way into your hotel, who was so focused on holding his head down that he hadn’t noticed you and apologized with a quick and very British “sorry”, though not even glancing in your direction. You had been too busy saving your suitcase from falling down the stairs to whip your head around in time. The guy had already gone and with him, the familiar voice that left you wondering whether your mind was just playing tricks on you.

The event had just gone to your head. Of course you had hoped it would have been him to promote the game. His character’s return had already been announced in a subtle teaser that had the world in their grasp at the moment, so soon before the release of the last season. Besides, with him residing in London it almost felt like it made the most sense. You shook your head, it hadn’t been him. It was just a random Brit with a similar voice. They were out there. You realized you had been standing in the middle of the lobby where the receptionist had been looking at you with her eyebrow raised for a moment now. Time to check in.

Just as you came out of the shower, you received a call. It hadn’t been the first time they had tried to call you according to your phone and you were only just in time to pick up this time around.

“Deniz, hi, sorry I was just in the shower,” you explained quickly.

“All good. Listen, change of plans.”

“Change of plans?”

Now?! The evening before the event? You groaned inwardly, already dreading whatever changes he was about to inform you with. You sat down on your bed, dressed in the hotel’s bathrobe and waited.

“Yeah, so… David Harbour canceled. I know how excited you were about that, I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. You felt your heart sink. There it was, reality coming right back to kick you in the face as usual. Of fucking course.

“I see, so… what’s going to happen now?” Were you just going to have a little vacation then? Would they let you join the event differently? Maybe it would mean you could sleep in. That would be nice.

“Well, miracles happened and another actor agreed to come. We just got the memo way later. David canceled earlier this week apparently so they’ve been making calls and such.”

“Who is it?” It was time for Deniz to drop the information you actually gave a damn about. Your mind immediately went back to the guy who had bumped into you. It couldn’t be…

“Joseph Quinn? I googled him quickly while I called you but I have no clue. Is he one of the smaller actors?” You had to bite your tongue not to lecture him on how Joseph Quinn was anything but. It didn’t matter. Deniz didn’t give a damn about celebrities, and since Joseph looked quite different from his character Eddie, you weren’t surprised he had no idea who he was based off of that.

“No. He plays Eddie Munson.”

“Hold up. The guy who died but then didn’t?”

“That’s the one.”

“That’s actually pretty cool. Looks nothing like him though. Insane.”

Tell me about it, you thought. You had spent enough hours ogling both his character and his regular appearance, still unable to grasp at how they were the same person.

“Okay so, I’ve emailed you the details of his PA Leah, she’s been briefed on when and where he’s expected. You’ll meet after breakfast in the lobby at ten sharp, same as the original plan. Just make sure you’re a little early, yeah?”

“Will do.” You continued your convo casually but eventually you cut it off because you really needed your sleep. And before you could do that, you needed at least an hour to silently scream into your pillow because you were going to meet him. Chances were that the hand that had quickly searched for balance on your arm earlier had been his. You felt a little lightheaded. This was a nightmare cocooned in a dream. Undoubtedly you were going to make a fool of yourself and he would hate your guts. Or he’d laugh at you. You didn’t know what was worse. All you knew was that while the change of plans theoretically would have been a dream come true, a nightmare had never felt more realistic.

The next morning you were fidgeting with the hem of your blouse as you waited in the lobby, half an hour too early. You had barely managed to eat breakfast due to your nerves but had forced a few things in your system because a grumbling stomach would be worse. Maybe you should have just eaten a bit more slowly so that you didn’t have to wait ridiculously long. It was killing you, perking your head up at every movement and often receiving an odd glance from the stranger who you’d been so eager to look at. Not with Joseph though. His voice alerted you long before the man even came into view. Laughter had escaped his lips and it sounded all too familiar. Granted, you had a bit of a crush on the man you had only seen through a screen so far. You were relieved he sounded chipper, as you had noticed that he hadn’t been so delighted at some other events he had attended. Those were all just assumptions, but you liked to think that your people skills gave you enough knowledge to assess someone’s body language at least a little. You turned your body in his direction at the right timing, where you wouldn’t have to stare for too long but had enough time to grab his attention. It looked like his assistant had received a photo from you, because recognition flashed her face and she walked up to you before Joseph had even noticed you. With a quick B-line, he followed her.

“Hi, you must be Y/N?”

“That’s me, nice to meet you,” you said politely as you shook her hand.

“Leah, you as well.”

Then, it was Joseph’s turn. Your smile faltered only for a second when he shook your hand and it was a good thing you already knew the man’s name, because his eyes were so distracting that you could only see his lips move and not hear a thing he said.

“Nice to meet you,” you managed to say to him as well and he let go of your hand with a subtle squeeze to finish off the greeting.

“The car should be up front soon,” you said as you checked your phone for the time. The nerves, which you would have had just the same if it had been David, we’re eating you alive from the inside as a silence pursued. All you had been briefed to do was getting them from location to location and you had no idea how much they had been told about the game already. To your relief the silence was cut short when you received a message that your ride was there. After announcing that, you went ahead and led Joseph and his PA to the car waiting outside. 

“Are you from here?” Joseph’s voice perched your ears and you turned your head to look into his curious brown eyes.

“I’m not actually. I’m from Y/B/P.” You had to bite your tongue to automatically ask the same question in return because you knew.

“Oh! That’s cool. I’ve been there once, on vacation,” he told you. “Would love to go back sometime.”

I’ll gladly take you back home with me, you thought, but instead you nodded.

“What about Amsterdam? You’ve been here often?” You asked to keep the conversation going. He told you about the two times he visited Amsterdam, how he hadn’t managed to visit any museums because his mates had wanted to get high and go out most of the time. Fun times, still, but he wanted to see if he could squeeze in a museum or two before he left again. Once you arrived at The Dam, a noticeable crowd had already gathered and their heads all turned towards the car. Oh boy.

“Alright, let’s go this way,” you decided and Joseph shifted in the seat to get out on your end, his assistant following suit. Phones were shoved into your faces and Joseph took the time to take a few photos and sign some things before he followed you towards the stage. His assistant stood on the sidelines, leaving Joseph alone with you and the host who would present the game.

“I had no idea what to expect but this is pretty big,” Joseph mumbled, gesturing at the game setup. There was a platform on which you could walk continuously without moving, a round treadmill so to say. It had a railing around the front and VR glasses hung over it.

“It is. They found it important that walking around felt natural, hence the big platform. It’s pretty cool.”

“Have you played it yet?”

“No, I’ve only seen some test runs.”

“The concept sounded pretty cool, like working together and all that. I believe it’s also available on other stuff right? PC and everything?”

You nodded and went into detail about how the PC version would be different, in terms of VR and without VR, but also the general difference in running around physically versus only digitally. Joseph seemed very intrigued at everything you had to say while they set him up with a microphone on his shirt. So much, even, that he nearly missed his announcement for coming up the stage.

“My bad. Hi everyone.”

You watched the conversation from the side between Joseph and the host, who explained the game again in detail and held a little presentation about it. Then, it was time for Joseph to actually join the game. Throughout Amsterdam there were several setups like this one, and a few lucky fans had been selected to take part in the immersive game together with Joseph. Each wearing a headset and being in a party together, all with a different task ahead. The people on the Dam could watch Joseph’s gameplay on a big screen behind him. Joseph seemed to enjoy it a lot, completely into the game as he stepped and jumped over things, running over to clues and communicating with his party. It was his task to gather camouflage to bring over to the others, who each had their own task to explore as well. It all went down on a timer and it was important that everyone finished their task in time. Of course, there were enemies as well which would progress into severity the closer everyone game to the middle, also known as their meeting point.

You loved watching Joseph do his thing, with his tongue darting out and making wild gestures at creatures that tried to attack him. He shouted, did his best not to swear and often went into a giggle fit when he did something silly. It was the most endearing thing to watch and while you thought David Harbour would have been a very funny candidate to watch as well, nothing could beat Joseph being Joseph.

“It says I can pick up an ally? I want an ally!” Joseph suddenly exclaimed, looking around as he perked his head up. “Can I?” He then asked a bit unsurely. His VR headset was soundproof, meaning he wouldn’t even be able to hear the answer unless he took his headset off. You watched the guy monitoring the screen discuss something with one of the developers and then nodded over to you. What? When the developer approached you, holding another VR headset, you felt dread seeping into your shoes. Oh no. You enjoyed playing the occasional game but you weren’t any good, and you definitely didn’t have a wide experience with VR games. This was doomed to make you look like a fool. Great.

“We’ll set you up if you want to join as his ally?”

You weren’t going to say no, of course.

“Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

The developer briefly explained that you would join the game as an extra help during fights, making your health double up. You were handed a stick that represented a bat in the game and were put on a similar platform like Joseph was. After connecting the two together, you would be launched into the same spot he was, and you would be able to play once you entered a nickname.

IN GAME: Your ally Y/N has arrived, Joseph

“Hello? Y/N?” “Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh! Hi! I didn’t expect them to insert an actual person, I thought they meant like an NPC or something. This is even better!” Immediately, he got back to business, as he took the game quite seriously. “So. We have to find our way through this forest, but there are demobats trying to kill us. And apparently wild dogs.” 

Joseph turned to you in the game, and it felt surreal to have a pretty decent looking Eddie avatar look at you and communicate with you in a British accent. You had no idea what your character looked like.

“Alright, we’ve got to get… Oh! You’re Robin, that’s cool. We need to go this way, it seems.”

You discussed your options and decided to look around first for any clues if you were going in the right direction. When a demobat attack forced you to run into the forest, you knew you had been right. It was pretty fun to use your bat to slam the demons away, but the VR aspect of it all was harder than you expected. It was a good thing you and Joseph were about two meters apart from each other in real life, or you would have played whack-a-mole with each other’s heads. At one point you had to run, which meant physically running in real life too. As if you wanted to be sweaty! Luckily, you soon met up with the other players, who had all achieved their tasks and slayed some enemies like you had. Now it was time for the final battle: Defeating Vecna. While you had expected things to be pretty hectic with at least four other voices outside of you and Joseph, it wasn’t all that bad. If anything, it made it feel more realistic to have several people shout their battle cries. It required working together and using each other’s strengths, timing them perfectly after one another. The person with Nancy’s character would shoot at him, while you threw bottles lit with fire, and Joseph had to use his catapult to distract Vecna and weaken his sight. Eventually, you managed to defeat Vecna without having to replay the game or anyone dying. You always liked how the developers made Eddie an available character as well, regardless when they knew if he was going to return or not.

Finally, you took off your headset and quickly fixed your hair, stepped away from the platform and found that Joseph joined you immediately. 

“That was fun,” he grinned, clearly wanting to share his experience with someone. His hair was a bit of a mess now, his curls no longer as tamed as before. After he noticed you looking he quickly ran a hand through his hair and you wondered if you had made him self conscious. For whatever reason his PA was nowhere to be found. Joseph was called over to give a quick review on the game and after that it was time to acknowledge the fans who had long since gathered at the barricades for some selfies and photographs. You could tell that he was in a good mood by the way he wore a relaxed smile on his face as he interacted with the fans. All you could hope was that it would stay the same after visiting the other locations. You never really understood why they wanted him to visit all locations, instead of just having everyone come up to one, but apparently they didn’t want to overcrowd any spot and considering people had to buy tickets to even get to stand near the barricades, it started to dawn on you. Of course these money hungry bastards took the opportunity and ran away with it in ten folds.

Joseph seemed to handle it all perfectly well until you were back in the car and he slumped in his seat. As it turned out, his PA had suddenly gotten sick and had gone back to the hotel. It was just you and him now, for the rest of the day.

“That was intense,” Joseph said softly, unsure whether he should even be sharing his thoughts with you. All you could do was nod.

“It was. I’m surprised you have to visit so many spots if I’m honest,” you admitted and Joseph nodded in agreement.

“I hadn’t expected that either. I just figured it would be one location and go, until we received the schedule yesterday.”

“That gave you little time to prepare then… I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh it’s alright. Can’t complain, it’s a great opportunity.”

You smiled softly.

“It’s fine to complain a little, even if it’s a great opportunity,” you assured him. That granted a smile out of him as well. You could imagine it was hard to cut yourself some slack when you had been so lucky, yet incredibly overwhelmed by it all. And he wasn’t even allowed to call it luck according to people because it was talent, but to him it sure had felt like luck.

When the driver stopped the car, you were surprised to see you weren’t at the next location yet.

“Roadblocks all around. You’ll have to walk from here,” he said apologetically. The thought alone filled you with dread. Joseph had been stalked in every place he had been and Amsterdam was about to become the next. They knew what he looked like down to the shoes he was wearing at the moment, so the watchful eye would definitely notice.

“Alright, not a problem at all,” Joseph told the driver before turning to you. “Is it far?”

“Ten minutes max, I think,” you replied, getting your phone out to find a route. Once you got it, you both left the car. The driver assured you he would be in the same spot in time for the next one, but you exchanged numbers just in case.

The first couple of minutes went fine. No one batted an eye. Not until one teenager shouted his name.

“Oh fuck,” you mumbled softly, watching as the many heads turned around frantically in search of the man next to you.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured you, as if you were the one who needed assurance. You were very ready to elbow these people in the head if they were behaving like idiots. It would cost you your job if you caused a scandal, though.

“Where do we have to go?” Joseph asked you, sounding a little hurried. You showed him the route on your phone and watched how he scanned the area quickly.

“Alright. Come.” Before you realized what was going on, he had grabbed your hand and guided you through the masses who were dawning in on you, taking photos and trying to get their picture taken with him as well. He greeted them kindly, effortlessly. Apologized for moving on and explaining you had to get to your destination quickly. You wondered if anyone else noticed how draining this seemed to be for him. His frown deepening, his lips disappearing into a thin line. His hand squeezed yours tighter every now and then, although he often relaxed it shortly after and grazed the top of your hand with his thumb, as if to apologize.

When you finally made it to the next stage, you let out a breath of relief. This unorganized shit show was a drag. Joseph let go of your hand and listened to the host of that location, who guided him to the fans where he could do his service of taking photos and interacting with them shortly. Then, he met with a handful of people who had won a meet & greet with him for a good five minutes and after that it was time to move to the next. Two down, four to go. It wasn’t until the transition from the fourth to the fifth that you and Joseph decided to skip the car and just walk all the way. You had been hopeful the other times that the car would actually be able to drop you off at a good spot, but it had become clear that Amsterdam wasn’t great to go through by car, especially not on a day like this. When you asked him about security, it turned out that he had turned them down as he hadn’t expected the getting from one location to the other would have gone so hectic.

“God that smells delicious,” Joseph exclaimed softly as you were walking through crowds, trying to blend in as well as you could. You had smelled it too, or at least you thought you did. If you were honest, you were pretty hungry after that lousy breakfast, considering it was way past lunch time already.

“The bakery, right?” You ask as you point into the direction of a bakery on the other side of the street.

“Yes. Mind if we make a quick stop? I’ve really got to eat something.”

“Not at all. Some more delay isn’t going to matter at this point,” you pointed out. You made your way towards the bakery that luckily wasn’t too crowded, and got yourselves a pastry , two in Joe’s case. He had been eyeing the croissants but decided against it because of the crumbs. Not that these pastries were any better. They were delicious though, you concluded, and Joseph seemed to agree judging by the sounds he made.

“Right, I needed that,” he said as he cleaned off his fingers with a napkin. Once you got closer to the last stage, he turned to you.

“Am I good?” He asked, gesturing at his face so you could tell him if he missed a crumb. He had, so you pointed it out with words, until he didn’t catch it at the third try and you lifted your finger to his face instead and gently took it off.

“You also have some…” he started, brushing his thumb over the corner of your mouth, “right there. All good now.” His gaze lingered longer than it should have and you blamed your burning cheeks for it. He probably noticed your shift in attitude right away. Despite that, he seemed unbothered and you entered the last stage, where Joseph did his thing again and you watched him do it all effortlessly. 

It was already way past dinner time when you finally made your way back to the hotel. That was it then, you thought. You had had fun, and it had been great to get to know him briefly, but you would have loved more. Somehow it made you feel greedy, though you blamed the man himself for being the exact way you had imagined him to be. All sweet and nice and gentlemanly. So annoying.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?”

The silence that hung in the air got way too much time to spread when you looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. God, please act cool for once, you thought to yourself. To top it off, he smiled softly at you and even seemed a little nervous. Why in the world would he be nervous?

“I— Yes! That sounds lovely, where would you like to go? Just here at the hotel, or…”

“Oh no. I’d prefer to get into the city if that’s okay. I heard you can get dinner on a boat, no idea if you have to book a spot for that though. We could check? I just want to change into something else once we’re back at the hotel, freshen up a little. Is that alright with you?” His eyes darted away as he spoke and his hand softly scratched behind his ear in a repeat motion until he finished his sentence. Absolutely endearing. Your conversation briefly paused as you left the car and headed back inside your hotel.

“Dinner on a boat sounds…” Romantic as hell. “Great! And if it’s not available I’m sure we can find a nice spot somewhere. At the canals maybe?” You offered, wanting to throw in your two cents as well instead of just completely going along with what he said.

“I’ll give them a call. The canals would be nice as well!” He agreed, and shifted his weight from one foot to another as he looked at you. “Meet down here in an hour?”

You agreed and both went opposite ways towards your rooms. His was in a much more luxurious area of the hotel, which made sense. Once in your hotel room you quickly turned your suitcase upside down in search of something appropriate to wear. Would a dress be too much? The rest all seemed too casual and you had no idea how fancy that boat restaurant was. The dress would have to do. It was a simple, black, a-line dress but it looked very elegant on your figure. You freshened up in the bathroom and reapplied your makeup, hoping it all looked fine. 

Miraculously you had some time to kill, which basically meant you sat alone with your thoughts. Those that hadn’t stopped running the same sentence over and over after he had said it. Would you like to join me for dinner? You were genuinely confused why he had asked you. Maybe he just didn’t want to eat alone because it would attract extra attention to himself. Yeah. That must be it. And you guessed you were deemed nice enough to have a chat with. Which was great, but everything else was just confusing and slightly stressful. When you finally allowed yourself to go down ten minutes early, you found that Joseph was already waiting there. Dressed in black pants and a dark blue blouse, he looked incredibly handsome. He immediately noticed you as you exited the elevator, his neutral expression lighting up into a smile.

“Y/N, thank god, you made it. I managed to get a reservation in twenty minutes, so I was secretly hoping you’d be early too. They happened to have a cancellation. Our uber is ready too.”

“Oh that’s great! I’m really curious about this restaurant. Is it just docked in one of the canals or does it actually fare?” You asked curiously, while trying to calm yourself down inwardly that you were going to sit in front of this handsome man for a whole meal. Oh god. What if you made a total fool of yourself?

They have a route that goes partially through the canals, so we’ll be able to do a slight bit of sightseeing if we’re lucky. It might be too dark outside already.”

He held the door open for you to slide inside the uber and then joined from the other side. Again. What a gentleman.

“Have you decided on what you might want to visit tomorrow?” You wanted to know. While you hadn’t made specific plans just yet, you wanted to check out some things as well before you had to go back. Your silly brain allowed yourself to hope that maybe you could do some sightseeing together. Not that you were going to ask him that, oh no. That was way too embarrassing. What if he said no?

“I have some time to squeeze in one or two things. Later tomorrow I have an interview through zoom with someone in New York though, and we leave again early the next day. So I have a bit of time but nothing too grand. Any recommendations?”

“I was thinking of visiting Anne Frank’s house. I’ve heard many stories about that. And Rijksmuseum, maybe. Those are things I’d want to do, but I can’t exactly recommend them because I’ve never been.”

“Those were on my list as well as the Vincent van Gogh museum. Haven’t decided yet.”

“I heard there was a special exhibition there, temporarily.”

“Oh, really? Can’t miss out on that now, can I? It’s not like I’m a very artsy person, I don’t necessarily feel things when I look at paintings, but I do appreciate the craft. And Van Gogh does have a nice style. I’ve got a small print of one of his works in my hallway. Sorry,” he winced and chuckled awkwardly.

“For what?” You genuinely wanted to know. He shrugged and avoided your gaze, disguised by looking out the car window for scenery.

“For going on a ramble.”

“Don’t be silly! I’m the same with art. Especially abstract pieces. I try to find a meaning in them but sometimes… a blob is just a blob.” You shrugged.

“Yes!” Joseph seemed happy that someone agreed. You briefly wondered if he was just always happy when he met someone like minded or if he simply had a lot of artsy friends. He seemed to relax after you didn’t make a fuss about him being talkative and suddenly mentioned how disappointed he was in the Mona Lisa.

“She’s just so small. I never expected a huge painting, but I also didn’t expect people to gather in rows and rows to catch a glimpse of this tiny painted woman,” he mumbled. When you arrived at the dock where the boat would set sail from, you both got out and Joseph gallantly held out his arm for you to take.

“I’ve noticed the streets can be pretty uneven here,” he used to reason as to why he provided his arm. You nodded, looking down at your low boots. There was a reason you didn’t wear heels. One, the streets. Two, Joseph wasn’t that tall and you didn’t want to be taller. Three, fine. Maybe you didn’t bring any heels.

“Careful, these stairs are a little slippery,” he warned you softly, making sure he held onto the railing tightly while continuing to hand out stability to you with his arm.

“You look really pretty. I wanted to say so earlier but words got away from me,” he told you right before you entered the boat. A blush tainted your cheeks and you smiled softly.

“Oh— Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.”

“Oh, stop it,” he chuckled abashedly as he let you go in first. After Joseph checked in with the waiter for your reservation under the name of Steven Johnson and sat you down near a window, you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Should I call you Steven for the time being?” You asked him softly. Joseph covered half his face with his hand and groaned.

“I panicked when they asked for a name alright? I know it’s not the best.”

“It’s fine.”

When the waiter came over for drinks you decided on red wine, while he went with a dark beer. You discussed your food options thoroughly, with Joseph managing to get totally lost into his food related stories at nearly each one. You had had a short world tour of his experiences in several countries by the time you had both made up your minds, nearly able to taste it after Joseph’s detailed descriptions. His eyes lit up when the breadbasket was brought to the table and he eyed it eagerly, waiting for you to go first. You took the butter knife and added salty butter to one, looking up.

“Do you want one too?” You asked politely, holding the one you just smeared out for him to take.

“I’d— Oh, thank you,” he responded slightly flustered, accepting the slice from you and then watched you make another one. When the main course arrived, you were well into your third, maybe fourth topic of the evening. It all felt so natural that you sometimes forgot that you had been putting this man onto a pedestal for some time. Not that he didn’t deserve a pedestal anymore, he was an amazing guy still, but he felt more leveled. Equal. In reach. Quite literally so, but also figuratively. He was just Joe. That’s what he preferred to be called. Though you stubbornly kept the joke up and only called him Steven for the rest of the evening. Whenever there was silence, you would look out the window and admire the city, as far as the darkness allowed you to. The reflection of the windows in combination with the lights from both inside and out made it a tricky view, but a pretty one nonetheless. When Joe’s knee nudged yours, you turned your head to look at him but his eyes weren’t on you. After subtly nudging his leg back with your own, he kept it there. It seemed to be intentional. You decided it was late enough to go for a stroll on your way back to the hotel instead of getting a ride, and found yourselves admiring the pretty lit canals, where you were momentarily distracted by a stray cat. Joe watched you with a calm nature while he smoked a cigarette, passing the time until you had told the cat goodbye. Passing the Dam, you noticed it was still pretty lively, and you spent a bit of time watching a performer dance with fire.

“Oh, it’s my agent, hang on.” Joe excused himself and walked away from the small crowd that had gathered around the performer. While you were curious, you didn’t want to be impolite and stare, so instead you looked around the crowd. After what seemed like ten minutes, the crowd had thinned out and the performer was packing up his stuff. You stood there awkwardly, not wanting to ogle the performer who was clearly done, but also not wanting to bother Joe. Instead, you took some distance from both and sat down on a stone bench. It was obvious that Joe’s mood was sour when he returned to your side, slumping down next to you.

“Turns out I only have the morning left tomorrow. Change of plans. So I won’t be able to check out anything, not enough time. I was going to ask you if you wanted to join me but unfortunately I can’t even do that.”

“Oh I’m sorry, that’s a bummer. Where do you need to be?” It was hard to keep your expression in check. To not look too disappointed at this news while in reality you felt down to cry. The fact that he had wanted to go sightseeing with you possibly made it even worse.

“You can’t tell anyone, but I’ve got a photoshoot for this magazine thing in LA.”

“That sounds, uhm, cool,” you tried to say enthusiastically but failed horribly once you saw his expression.

“Yeah, it is. Just not so fond of last minute changes.” He rubbed his palms onto his knees, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that welled up in his stomach.

“I get that. I don’t like them either. I guess I’ll have to enjoy tomorrow for both of us.”

“Please do.”

You would do anything to get that sad expression off his face. If only you knew how. A random idea sprung to mind and instead of thinking it through like you usually did, assessing the pros and cons and whatnot, you blurted out a question.

“Do you like reading?”

Joe frowned a little at the sudden topic change but nodded. 

“I do, yeah, why?”

“Would you like to check out a bookstore with me? We could have breakfast somewhere and do just that, before you have to leave? Unless you don’t have the time or,” you laughed softly, “don’t really want to.” Joe shifted so he could turn for a better look at you.

“I’d love to.” His voice was sincere. Much more sincere than you had heard him be all day. Apart from during dinner, maybe. It was a relief to see his clouded expression had lifted almost instantly. 

You decided that you both wanted to be well rested for the day after and headed back to the hotel, though there was a reluctance on both sides to work towards the end of today. It was obvious when the two of you parted ways, at the elevators, and even more obvious when you both stole glances from each other at different moments, convinced the other hadn’t looked at all. Even more obvious was the fact that neither of you could fall asleep, not until you accepted that the other person was going to be on your mind all night.

The last morning

Joe met you in the lobby dressed in black jeans, a white tucked in blouse and a coat that was already on his arm, his smile lighting up at the sight of you. 

“Good morning,” he greeted you softly, his voice a little hoarse still. He cleared his throat and reached for his vape, as if that was going to make it better. You smiled softly.

“Morning, Steven.”

“Oh stop it,” he groaned. “I’m never gonna get away with that, am I?”

“Nah. Especially not after accidentally telling me Steven is actually your go to alias and not just one slip up. From Australia, no less!”

“Think of a better name then, on the spot. Go. Go!” He urged you on with a youthful grin.

“Legolas.” You responded deadpanned.

Joe snorted and shook his head, already heading to the exit. “Oh come on, you didn’t even try,” he protested.

“I did! I was trying to think of an easy to remember name for you and couldn’t help but think about that massive cardboard you told me ab—”

“Now you’re just taking the mick,” he sighed. “I need more leverage to do the same to you, this is unfair.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

You and Joe made your way into the city to find a nice place to have breakfast at and you were quite relieved that you weren’t spotted. You loved watching him devour his breakfast, which was three times as extensive as yours, and see pure joy on his face at each bite he took. Time flew by as you shared more about your lives, and before you knew it you only had half an hour to get to the bookstore before Joe would be picked up to go to the airport. He was apologizing profusely, feeling guilty for messing up your nice idea to spend your morning, and you had to assure him it was okay.

“Honestly, don't worry about it. We had a great time at breakfast too, did we not?” You told him.

“Yes, but now there’s so little time left—”

“Would it be better if we skipped it altogether? I don’t want you to feel hurried,” you offered, as much as you would love to check out some books with him. Joe simply refused.

“No, we’re going to the bookstore. Even if I can only stick around for ten minutes.” He was steadfast and you decided it was best not to argue and lose more time. His concerned face was not something you liked to see on the man. The bookstore had several levels and wasn’t too crowded, but you noticed Joe wasn’t exactly relaxed either.

“Were you looking for something specific?” He asked after you reached the top level. You shook your head and shrugged.

“There are some books I still want to read, but… nothing specific in mind. Maybe The Midnight Library. It’s been out for a few years already but I still haven’t gotten around to it,” you explained. Joe hummed to let you know he heard you and the next moment, he had disappeared. For a hot second you worried that he had ditched you. Maybe for having a bad taste in books, or him suddenly realizing the time and not bothering to say goodbye. Neither scenario sounded very sensible, but your brain loved to make up scenarios that weren't sensible. You shrieked softly when he suddenly popped up next to you again, holding a paper bag with a book in it. The Midnight Library.

“A parting gift,” he said with a small, nervous smile. “A little hurried and a little lame, but there’s no time for something better. I had a great time with you so I wanted to give you a token of my gratitude.”

You stared at him, his big brown eyes peering nervously into yours to figure out your expression, when you suddenly hugged him.

“But I didn’t get you anything,” you mumbled next to his ear as you felt your cheeks grow warm when he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“We weren’t exchanging gifts, so there’s no need,” Joseph said softly into your hair, his hand coming up to the back of your head. There were so many things you wanted to say to him at that moment, but no words came out. Eventually you uttered a thank you as you held on to the embrace that was lasting way too long for it to not be awkward.

Except it wasn’t awkward at all. And you didn’t want it to end. Neither did he, it seemed, when his phone went off and he reluctantly let go of you to pick up.

“My ride’s here,” he announced sourly. You followed him outside, wanting to properly send him off despite the growing lump in your throat. You wanted to say something. Exchange numbers, or whatever, but your fear of having him reject you was too big of a risk. This was it. You should be happy, having gotten to spend so much time with him already, right? So why did it feel like you lost a part of you when he finally stepped into the car after one last, quick hug? When he looked at you through the window and smiled a smile that didn’t meet his eyes? You felt simply horrible. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was always much better in fiction, you thought. With their sappy happy endings and people running out of cars or going to airports to confess their love to each other after spending a mere day together. You hated the unrealistic part of it, and yet you craved it like nothing else right now.

A week later

Things had gone back to normal again. All but for one thing. He was on your mind all the time. It distracted you from everything you had to do. Stupid man. With his stupid handsome face and his stupid pretty smile and his stupid gorgeous hair. You never expected to suddenly fly off into the sunset with him, but man did you wish it had gone exactly like that. Instead, you had watched him leave in a car with a sad expression on his face that told you he didn’t want to leave you either. Or maybe you had just imagined it. You never even brought yourself to do more than hold the book, only to put it back in the paper bag that you didn’t want to throw away. It was all you had to go with your memories. To remember it was real. That, and some photos on Getty Images that you found highly unflattering. You had saved them anyway. Deniz had comforted you when you told him about what had happened and he was convinced that you would meet him again.

“He likes you. It’s obvious from what you’ve told me. He invited you to dinner right away, didn’t want the evening to end, wanted to spend his only other free day with you as well and did so until the last minute? Come on. I’m sure the asshat just forgot to give him your number and is eating himself up over it. I promise. I’ll eat my keyboard if you don’t end up dating him.”

You laughed softly and shook your head at him, and you loved him for trying to make you feel better.

“Please don’t eat your keyboard, I am busy enough as it is without getting your tasks piled up on me as well,” you joked. Deniz wanted to respond but suddenly got distracted by a view that was coming into your direction.

“Who do you think that’s for?” Deniz asked, gesturing at the bouquet of flowers that was definitely larger than your head. You shrugged.

“Probably Melody’s. Or Petra’s,” you listed the two pretty blondes in the office. Deniz shrieked softly when the person holding the bouquet passed both their desks.

“Oh my god. Never manifested something so quickly,” he whispered to himself. When they finally stopped at your desk and handed it to you, you were at a loss for words.

“The card, check the card!” Deniz urged on.

You searched through a bouquet of beautiful gerberas, lilies and other flowers you didn’t know the name of and finally found a tiny card. You barely heard Deniz’s confused reaction about the name on the card, as all sounds seemed to die down instantly as you read the card.

Just in case the note I secretly put into your book didn’t make it safely to your hotel for whatever reason. - Steven x

Below his name was a phone number and you recognized the country code immediately. Definitely not Australia.

FIN

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #fanfiction #rpf #dirtymartini writes

[stevishabitat]

So last night or this morning, while I was in a weird state between asleep and awake, my in-brain Content Generator came up with this completely bonkers idea for a reality competition...

BBC B&B Community Theater

Teams of British actors stay at a B&B, and have to coach community theater groups thru performing various genres. The actors also take part in challenges (acting games, musical theater, improv, stunt fighting, set-building, costuming, make-up, marketing, etc).

First two teams:

Team Super Powers: Tom Hiddleston, Charlie Cox, Andrew Garfield

Team Magic Powers: Daniel Radcliff, Tom Felton, Robert Pattinson

Each team has a consultant, David Tennant or Michael Sheen. Because: Reasons.

Judges vary, based on genre.

Sketch comedy: Stephen Fry & Hugh Laurie

Shakespeare: Ian McKellen & Patrick Stewart

Historical drama: Maggie Smith & Judi Densch

Why this would be awesome:

Watching these human disasters living together in the B&B trying to just get thru daily life.

Some challenges they will be fucking phenomenal at, and others will be so far out of their element that they will be complete trainwrecks.

They will be working with actual amateur and young actors and bringing attention to the ups and downs of community theater. (Obvs all proceeds are going to community theaters and arts education.)

There could be all kinds of fun things to add in - like letting them call in a former costar or expert to help - soooo many cameo possibilities!

Why tf does my brain provide this kind of stuff that I can do absolutely nothing with?

Anyway, since I had to spend an hour or so thinking about it when I was supposed to be asleep, now you have to know about it.

Do with it what you will.

(Generally I'm not a fan of rpf, but if someone wants to write it in the 'Staged' universe, I wouldn't be averse to taking a peak... 😉)

[queereldritch]

I have posted a ficlet!!

Jamie Bower/Joseph Quinn sickfic ahoy!

Summary:

Jamie doesn't even realise he's sick at first. All he knows is he feels irritable, miserable and restless.

Maybe a surprise visit from a certain Someone will help him feel better.

#fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 feed #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #jamie campbell bower #joseph quinn #jomie #sickfic #jamie bower x joseph quinn #Jamie Campbell Bower x Joseph Quinn

[rpf-fanfiction6]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, British Actor RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), father/daughter relationships - Relationship, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Tom Hiddleston, father/daughter relationships - Character, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Series, Redemption, Sequel, older Tom Hiddleston, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Children, Teenagers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, tom hiddleston - Freeform, out of prison, Forgiveness, Attempted Seduction, Father-Daughter Relationship, Sins of the Father, Father-Son Relationship, Kissing, Freedom, Apologies, Flirting, Protective Siblings, Fear, Worry, Revenge, Implied Sexual Content, Birthday Party Series: Part 1 of The naughty teacher, Part 2 of The redemption of the naughty teacher Summary:

It had been 13 years, and Kerstin had got her life back together. She thought her past was the past, but then her daughter made contact with her father, Tom Hiddleston. in prison. Kerstin had done everything she could to prevent her children, Jacob and Stephanie, from knowing him. Will she forgive Tom or take the law into her own hands?

*** The sequel to The Naughty Teacher.

Chapter 4

#fanfiction #fan fiction #rpf #writing #tom hiddleston #british actor