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quordleona03 · 1 year

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A Priest in Korea is Moving to the AO3

Many years ago, I was friends with Scarlatti on Livejournal, and I found she had written a whole lot of M*A*S*H fanfiction (twenty stories! That was a whole lot back then!) using the name Iolanthe.

I read all her stories - mostly Hawkeye/Mulcahy: as far as I know, she was the very first person ever to write Hawkeye/Mulcahy slash stories - and I loved them and I started seeing Hawkcahy in the series and one of her stories gave me the idea for the story that eventually grew into Sins and Virtues.

She read the final part of S&V only in first draft - I started sending her sections as soon as I had finished them - because Susan had cancer, and she died, four months before she would have turned 40. Her website, A Priest In Korea (William Christopher's description of M*A*S*H was "Oh, it's about a priest in Korea") fell into the Wayback machine, and last year, thinking of her stories again and looking for them, I found a complete snapshot of her website, and I thought "I could transfer this over to AO3 and let everyone read them: I bet they have a process for that".

They do. Julie was my Virgil as I walked through the Open Doors and now a priest in Korea has moved to AO3: A priest in Korea03. The longest story on site isn't even a Hawkeye/Mulcahy story: it's a Francis Mulcahy & Margaret Houlihan story, Polarity, which uses "a creaky old sci-fi plot device" to put Francis into Margaret's body and Margaret into Francis's -

He grew even more uneasy under the appreciative once-over with which Dickinson now favored him, and a blush warmed his face. When he caught sight of Houlihan's sidelong glare, he wondered how she -- or any other woman, for that matter -- would normally handle that kind of attention.

"Well now, Major, I can see you're a take-charge kind of gal," Dickinson drawled. "Meaning no disrespect. But your C.O. would have my head on a platter if I sent you off without an armed escort. Ain't that how you got into this mess in the first place?"

And the next-longest is also not precisely Hawkeye/Mulcahy, Playing the Game: The night air was pleasant and warm, and I was enjoying the mind-fuzzing effects of several beers, so my pace was unhurried. I'd almost made it to my tent when a man stepped out of the shadows behind the nurses' tent and latched onto my upper arm. "Hold it right there, Mister Vatican," he hissed.

I knew who it was without needing to see his face. No one but Colonel Sam Flagg, alleged CIA operative and all-around loose cannon, had ever addressed me in that fashion. I froze obediently, though my heart was racing and every instinct was telling me to flee for the hills at the earliest opportunity.

"Got a few questions for you," Flagg went on.

(sadly, now and forever unfinished, but rather in the sense of "there should have been more" than "ends on a cliffhanger")

She wrote what is still (as far as I can tell) the only Henry Blake/Trapper story, one of the few Radar/Hawkeye stories, and also Trapper/Mulcahy.

But mostly, she wrote about Francis Mulcahy falling in love with Hawkeye, and Hawkeye's gentle reciprocation.

Between us, we somehow managed to get the tent door open and cross the threshold. At that point, I expected Mulcahy to say goodnight and go pass out in his bunk, which is what I would've done, but instead he had a surprise for me.

As soon as the door closed behind us, he turned in my grasp until we were face to face. Before I had time to fully register what was going on, he'd looped his arms around my neck and was pulling me forward into a kiss.

It was, I think, the softest, sweetest, most tender kiss I've ever received...and one of the most inexplicably erotic.

What can I say? I loved her stories. She inspired me to write Hawkcahy long before that shipname was invented. I never got to meet her. I'd like you all to read her stories, and thanks to Open Doors/AO3, there they are.

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

This is sort of a sad post, but it shouldn't be: Susan was hilarious, and it's been a pleasure and an honour being her archivist.

Thanks, Susan.

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kaviiinsky · 1 year

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I was tagged by @amrv-5 to share a piece from one of my wips!! I have SO many but I figured a mashfic would be appropriate :)

I'm gonna tag @racetrackthehiggins, @mystery-ink, and @thomasjopsons if you want to share any writing!

small piece of a father mulcahy focused fic below the cut!

The OR was pounding like a frantic heart, battered from within by bloodied shouting and beat upon from outside by the worst storm the 4077 had seen in years. Nurses rushed here and there as the lights flickered after every thunderous crash from the sky overhead. Blood spattered the floor, looking darker and more solid under the generator lights and the greenish glow spilling through the windows.

“Father, over here!”

A shout came from the stretcher in the corner, and Father Mulcahy inched his way past a sea of elbows, table corners, and bloodied sponges. Approaching the table where Hawkeye was working, he tried to keep his eyes on the face of the unconscious soldier, rather than the torn mess of red that used to be his chest.

“Hiya, Father, I’ve got about six hands in this kid’s insides that can’t budge an inch, so I’m gonna need you to go get me some more 4-0 silk from supply. Radar can show you where.” Hawkeye spoke without looking up from his patient, and his voice was a strained command that showed underneath the joke.

Francis nodded, and then, realizing that neither Hawkeye nor the two nurses were looking at him, said a quick “of course!” and pushed his way back through the room to the doors. He had to admit that he was relieved to be out of that room. He always felt out of place in the OR, hovering uncertainly on the edges of the bloody scene, waiting to be summoned only in the event of disaster. He hated the fearful looks the nurses would give him as he stepped closer to any table, as if his very presence was inviting the patient to suddenly stop breathing. He never wanted anyone to look at him in fear, it was part of the reason he took up the cloth.

He pushed through the swinging doors that led to the outer room where he saw Trapper halfway in the door on triage duty, and thankfully, Radar standing by with his clipboard. He all but ran over, tucking his pocket sized Bible under his arm.

“Radar! I need a box of 4-0 silk-”

“4-0 silk sutures for Dr Pierce, here you go.” Radar held out the box, and Francis sent up a small thanks to God that the boy was always so prepared. He reached out to take the box, but his arm was interrupted, grabbed suddenly in Trapper’s firm grip.

“Sorry, Father, but we’ve got another bus of wounded coming and I need extra arms to carry stretchers.”

“Oh! Of course, yes.” Francis wasn’t extremely familiar with what was or wasn’t a manageable workload for the surgeons, but he had a sneaking suspicion that an entire extra bus of wounded on top of what they already had would be disastrous. But who in their right minds could turn them away, who had the power to say enough? Certainly not anyone in this unit. “Radar could you…”

“I’ll just take this to Hawkeye, Father, you go help Trapper.” And just like that the boy was disappearing past the swinging doors and Francis was being gently dragged out into the storm to get just as soaking wet as McIntyre was. The air was charged, cloyingly humid past the raindrops and warmer than any storm had the right to be. It was dark out, and Francis felt rather than saw the giant muddy lake that the compound was turning into under the onslaught. Trapper pulled his arm.

“The bus can’t drive all the way up with all the water!” He shouted as they ran. “We’re gonna have to carry them from the road!” The doctor waved his arm at several men who stood under the eaves to their right, gesturing for them to come help. All of the men sloshed their way towards the headlights of the bus, Father Mulcahy only just remembering to shove his Bible deep into the pocket of his robe to free up his hands. The rain was deafening on the canvas of the buildings and the metal of the bus. An enormous crack of thunder pealed over the scene. A flash of lightning lit up a split second of Trapper opening the back doors of the bus and shouting an order to the MPs they had brought with them.

Francis stepped back, trying to be out of the way until he was needed. He moved away from the bus and peered around, trying to discern anything in the driving rain. The world outside the camp was drenched and hard to see, just a blurry mess of navy blue and forest green occasionally illuminated in the flashes of lightning.

Father Mulcahy squinted harder. There, by the road, had he seen something in the last flash? A figure, stumbling and clutching its chest, pulled forward by an invisible string of will. And there, in the next brightly lit second, there it was again!

“Doctor McIntyre!” Francis shouted, slipping his way back to the open bus doors.

“Hold on, Father, wait ‘til I give ya a stretcher!”

Making a noise of distress, Francis hesitated for only a moment before running past the length of the bus as fast as he could without losing his balance in the mud. He waved his arms and began shouting at the figure.

“Over here, son! Come over here!” The soldier was close enough to see in the gloom now, and Francis saw his head perk up at the shout, swinging around to locate the speaker. He raised his hand straight up to be more visible, and saw the soldier’s head follow where his hand was pointing, straight up to the clouds.

And the world was split apart.

#mash #m*a*s*h #father mulcahy #my writing #mashfic #tag game #wip #thank youuu parker :)#fanfic

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lithiumache · 1 year

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new completely self-indulgent beejhawk fic! this one is for all the bipolar hawkeye truthers

#hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicut #beejhawk #hunnihawk #M*A*S*H #mash #mashfic #bipolar hawkeye

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charlesemersonwinchesteriii · 1 year

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This past Winchester Wednesday was International Fanworks Day, and I’m late, as always, but I still really wanted to use the occasion to express my adoration for the incredible unique variety of fics out there in the MASH fandom. From @thebreakfastgenie’s story about friendship and abortion to @majorbaby’s tender loving kink to @onekisstotakewithme’s polyamorous moon landing watch party to @topshelf2112-blog’s absurdly massive incredibly written oeuvre like is everyone seeing this rn holy fuck, I would feel lucky to have this insane depth and breadth of amazingly high quality fanfics in a fandom three times the size of relatively niche mashblr. No joke or punchline here, sorry. I’m simply sitting in front of the camera in black & white and being earnest and raw for once, as one does on special occasions.

Happy Belated International Fanworks Day, everyone!!!

#this would've been so perfect if I'd actually posted it on the proper day. but oh well.#this was just a random selection btw there are obviously SO many more amazing works from these and other authors!!#and even then I couldn't pick just one stateofintegrity fic :')#mash #I hope I didn't bother anyone I mentioned here; I made sure to only pick fics publicly posted on the author's blogs already #I just got excited looking over these vast wondrous lands (mashfic) and felt the need to Rejoice #and I really needed some Rejoicing this week #Starky's Original Posts #fanfiction #nobody can know about the REAL best stateofintegrity fic alas. the public isn't ready. simply too much cream in it if you will. sad!

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obviouschild2014 · 1 year

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I think i go back to tomorrow never knows more often because of that one bit where These are all feeling like bullshit platitudes and I want only to hold you one more time or die in your arms. I love you! I love you! I love you! I’ll write it to the ends of the earth. Tomorrow it will and it won’t be. They will have gotten it out of my brain but it will live forever under cryogenic study. I don't know what they’ll do with it. Maybe they’ll use it to find the solution to all war and hatred. Ha ha. Let me shout it thrice more unto the breach. I love you. Hawk. You saved my life. I love you. You are worthy and deserving of love. All I have. More than I have. All the love on earth. More than I can give — so it has to be. I love you.

#anyway yeah this is what we do here on mashfic dot org

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msculper · 1 year

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Hey! Do you have a link to the time traveler's wife mashfic? I couldnt find it and a bunch of people have referenced it so I wanna read!

absolutely! it’s right here

#truly one of the all time greats #enjoy :))))

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onekisstotakewithme · 2 years

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Started following you because I watched the entirety of mash in 4 weeks (at the start of the uni semester), went briefly insane, and followed as many mash people as I could find (also I love your fics I think the first mashfic I read was one of yours)

💜 I am flattered by this, and pleased at how many people I was a first mashfic for!

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trappers-t-shot · 2 years

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i’ve got an idea for a mashfic based on that one scene of bj doing pull-ups but hawk because EXTREMELY invested and suddenly becomes bjs personal trainer for…. reasons

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davekatprompts · 6 years

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For the mashup thing: prison vacation fic? >:^)

Oh. I got you!

Karkat Vantas is a corrections officer, and Dave Strider is a prisoner in his assigned block. He doesn’t pay him much attention at first, Dave is quiet and mostly keeps to himself, sitting in the library drawing or writing lyrics while humming or mumbling to himself. There’s no doubt that he’s sad though, there are so many times where Karkat sees him passing on meals, refusing to leave his room, and walking around with empty eyes, looking like a ghost.

When Karkat stumbles upon some inmates giving Dave trouble one evening, Karkat intervenes. Normally would have let them keep to their business, prison is no vacation after all, but Dave was very intriguing to Karkat. Attractive even. For a criminal.

After the assaulters run off, Dave thanks Karkat. He opens up after that, catching Karkat in the hallways, reading him lyrics, coming out of his room much more often than before. It’s probably too much, but for some reason Karkat doesn’t mind. He spends more time than he really should thinking about Dave. As soon as he steps into the block his eyes seek the familiar head of blonde hair. One day curiosity overtakes him and he looks up Dave’s file. Dave was sent to prison for the murder of his older brother. He’d pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to life in prison for second degree murder. The details were sparse, but the case seemed cut and dry. There were no details on motive, or witnesses or anything. It was all a little strange, very much like Dave himself.

Karkat comes into work one day to get a rare assignment. An inmate has been granted escorted furlough. He is to accompany Dave Strider on a visit to his family and to visit his brother, who is apparently, extremely ill.

Little brother? That wasn’t anywhere in his file. But to Houston they go. It’s only a three hour drive from the prison itself. He lets Dave indulge, blasting rap music and stopping for food at McDonalds. Finally they arrive at what used to be Dave’s loft. He tells Karkat that his older cousin got his little brother and they live here now. They’re both in the hospital, but the visitor hours don’t start until the next morning, so they stay the night at the loft.

Karkat learns a lot more about Dave’s ironic sense of humor, and he tells Dave about his love of romcoms. Karkat catches himself smiling on more than one occasion, it’s so nice to actually be able to engage and interact with Dave genuinely and like he’s been compelled to, without the eyes of hundreds of inmates and his coworkers regarding them.

Dave cooks them dinner, it’s shockingly good and they eat it while watching a movie Karkat picked out. It’s pleasant, if a little awkward at times, like when Karkat shifts and the jingle of keys on his uniform reminds them of their temporarily escaped reality. Later into the night, Karkat asks Dave about what happened with Dirk. He gets silent. Finally Dave tells him the story. He had killed Bro with a sword in self defense and in defense of little Dirk, as Bro had been terrorizing and lethally threatening them on a regular basis and it had finally come to a head during a nasty fight. Dave hangs his head. I did it for Dirk, he says with a small sob.

It’s been 5 years since the incident, and Dirk is 16 now while Dave is Karkat’s age, 27. He’s so young. They’re both so young. Karkat asks Dave why he didn’t testify about this. What was he doing in jail when what he just described was clearly self defense? I wanted to protect him, Dave screams. Karkat recoils. He went to jail to protect Dirk, to make sure his name wasn’t connected to the murder, to make sure that no harm would come to him from any of Bro’s many contacts.

Karkat goes to sleep on the couch with his head buzzing. He sends an email to one of his closest friends who also happened to be a lawyer, Terezi Pyrope. If there was any evidence, anything at all that Dave was telling the truth and they could reopen the case and get Dave off, Terezi would be able to figure it out.

The next day they visit Dirk at the hospital. He’s so small and thin, absolutely dwarfed by the stark white hospital bed and paler than the sheets he’s wrapped in, but his entire face lights up when Dave walks in the door. Roxy, who is standing by the bed, starts sobbing when she sees Dave, running over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Hi lil bro, he greets Dirk. Hey, Dirk says back. They both smile. It’s a strange way to greet your little brother who you love so much you murdered someone for, but Karkat supposes it’s just another Strider idiosyncrasy.

They don’t talk about Dirk’s illness. They don’t talk about if he’s going to die. They just sit around the room, exchange jokes and talk like a loving family. Karkat steps out a lot, he doesn’t strictly have to be glued to Dave’s side 24/7, and some things are just personal. The next day at the hospital, Dave’s sister Rose visits. She sneers at Karkat as she passes, and he doesn’t even blame her.

Rose hugs Dave fiercely, and his face warps in anguish behind her back. Karkat turns away. Dirk’s life support machines are suddenly deafening in the quiet room. From Rose you learn that Dirk has a rare condition, an autoimmune disease that’s destroying his body from the inside out. There is a hope for a recovery, the doctors have an experimental treatment they are going to try but the chances for a recovery slim day by day. Dave has to get back to the prison the next day, so he won’t be able to stick around to see if the treatment worked. Karkat tunes the rest out, ears thrumming.

The last night with in the loft with Dave is the worst. He drags his feet, not saying a word into his bedroom. From his place on the couch Karkat can hear the wet sobs he makes into his pillow. Karkat knocks quietly on his door, cursing himself. He can’t be doing this, he can’t be feeling this way, he can’t be falling in love with a fucking inmate. Fuck.

Karkat wraps Dave in soft but strong arms, and kisses the tears from his cheeks, then his lips; he tries to make Dave forget himself by pressing their hot bodies together in the dark. They spend the night together. Karkat wakes up to Dave already packing his bags in the kitchen, face blank. The ride back to the facility is quiet, neither of them bringing up what happened between them.

As they approach the facility, Karkat gets a text, it’s Terezi. Tentatively, very tentatively, she thinks they have grounds for an appeal. She thinks if they get that, there’s a good chance she can get Dave off. Excitedly, Karkat shares the news with Dave who flips out. Are you kidding me, he hisses. How dare you do this to me, to Dirk!. Karkat takes a step back. He’s never seen Dave look this impassioned, this furious. This is the face of a man who killed someone. Sorry Dave, I just thought, Karkat starts. No, Dave says. You didn’t think.

Dave doesn’t talk to Karkat after that. Karkat calls tells Terezi not to go forward with the case. Dave goes to the phone every day to check on Dirk and his treatment. Karkat gets reassigned to a different station. All Karkat can see of him from his new guard post are slumped shoulders and that messy mop of blond hair.

A few weeks later Dave walks up to Karkat, head down and feet shuffling. The treatment worked, he says through a watery smile. Dirk’s gonna be okay. Karkat smiles wide, they embrace for a second before quickly jumping apart. A few moments later Dave asks if there’s really a chance they could reopen the case. Now that I’m thinking about Dirk growing up, I’m thinking I should be there for him. I was young and dumb when I made that decision, I know what’s best for him now, ad it’s not being protected from invisible threats, it’s being with me. Karkat has never reached for his phone faster in his life.

Reopening the case is hard on Dave. Karkat spends a lot of time comforting him when he can, spending shared and close moments in broom closets and deserted hallways. Karkat escorts Dave to the courtroom on the day he has to testify. Watches his eyes water as he recounts the scene on the roof that day all those years ago. How Dirk had screamed and cowered and his vision had gone black. He squeezes Dave’s hand as they wait for the verdict. But Terezi is no joke when it comes to the law. She’d gathered some pretty damning evidence on Bro, and that along with Dave’s testimony turned the tables. His actions were ruled as self defense, and his sentence was reduced to time served. He’s a free man. He insists Karkat come with him for the family reunion. He says Karkat is his family now.

Dave moves back into his loft with Roxy and Dirk. The first time he steps into the apartment he doesn’t move again for five minutes due to the human cocoon that forms around him, consisting of Rose, Roxy and Dirk. They celebrate and hug Dave all night. Karkat gets his fair share of hugs too, as undeserving as he feels of them, and shares even more blushes when Rose and Roxy waggle their eyebrows and ask what he and Dave’s relationship is, exactly.

Dave starts settling into his life with Dirk, it’s hard to get a job as an ex-convict but he manages to make money selling his music on soundcloud. Karkat quits his job at the prison, and becomes a social worker instead. He vows to work hard to help boys like Dave and Dirk, so that they never end up in prison. As time passes, Dave and Karkat get closer and closer; he quickly becomes truly one of the family. And when Dave finally asks Karkat to move in with him and Dirk, he couldn’t be happier.

Laying snug in Dave’s arms one night, Karkat sighs. Sometimes things turn out far better than you could ever imagine.

Send a Mashup prompt

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #mashfic #writing

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radioprune · 3 years

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4, 8 & 25?

hi abby!

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

my go to answer for this is the ending of mind field which i am really proud of, but i also want to share this line hidden away in one chapter of HYH that i really like: "Having a friend like Hawkeye is like sitting at the top of a ferris wheel, exhilarating and calming at the same time, and the view is beautiful, but you’re about to lurch down any second." because it foreshadows the coney island fantasy and wonder wheel scenes :)))))

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

oh yeah definitely! i always write just exactly what i want to read and then i've been so lucky in the mashfic world that so many ppl are writing picture perfect things that i just can't get enough of

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

honestly maybe dialogue? i really do spend so much time just sitting in my room doing voices and transcribing what i came up with, and feeling stupidly good when i can make myself laugh with a joke i came up with

#thanks!!#ask #plaid-nightmares

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quordleona03 · 1 year

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I am importing stories from a late friend's expired website, courtesy AO3's Open Door project and the Wayback Machine, and suddenly I realise: She wrote what may be MASH fandom's first and maybe only ever Trapper/Henry story.

#trapper john mcintyre #henry blake #Trapper/Henry #Blakeintyre?#Trappelake?#mashfic #rarepair #Iolanthe Memorial #archive of our own #ao3 stuff

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aahsokaatano · 3 years

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trapper/hawkeye i ask as tho i have not read MASHfic exclusively bc of you

I know this and i love you

So like theres a lot of answers I could give here (I've written Trap/Hawk/BJ fix, I think I did some Trap/Hawk/Various Nurses prompt fills, too) but I'm gonna go with Trapper/Hawkeye/Klinger bc listen LISTEN we all know Hawk is a bottom but I wanna see him and Trapper just. Worshipping Klinger. It's what he DESERVES.

#max answers #thebubbledragon #chris

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daemurae · 10 years

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title: the fabric of touch pairing: mary x bash characters: mary stuart, sebastian de poitiers rating: m (although it doesn't get completely explicit) word count: 2 089 summary: mary scolds bash for tearing yet another one of her dresses that week, which has his hasty undressing methods during their rushed stolen moments of intimacy before the daily court meetings to blame; she comments that she’ll soon be spending more time with her seamstress than him and bash accepts the challenge proving to her that he’s actually quite adequate to take on some parts of at least the measuring job himself, in his own way story notes: this is set in a scenario where mary marries bash and they travel to scotland to rule together. and also this is kind of my first smut-ish fic, just thought I’d mention that. the idea jumped into my head and a few people encouraged me to write it and voila! *hides behind a corner* ( fanfictionnet link)

“Shh!” Mary hissed through quiet chuckles in her best attempt to hush down the clattering sound of falling metal as several chalices and pieces of jewelry once resting where Mary was now placed hit the floor with just a brush of Bash’s hand.

Just a second later and the boy’s arms were once again busy each with its own task, one with raising one of her legs around his hip and the other with pulling her waist closer against him. His lips, during that time, trailed up the side of her neck in a way that was an astonishing mix of ravishingly hungry and gentle at the same time. He grinned smugly at her words, “Who’s going to hear us? The guards?” His lips brushed a sensitive spot right near where her jawline began and earned himself the most beautiful sigh of pleasure he’s ever had the privilege of hearing any woman produce. “They’re already used to it by now.” Mary closed her eyes as her head fell backwards, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to suppress any further chuckles or moans.

“You are absolutely beyond repair” the young queen breathed out through a wide smile, her own hands busy with clutching at any piece of Bash they could reach, pulling him even more closer, more nearer, if that was even possible.

Bash raised his head up from the position below her neck until it was on the same level as hers, glancing her from her eyes down to her lips in a way that would leave any living, breathing, sexual human being without a single coherent thought in their head or a proper breath in their lungs. “Would you love me any other way?”

Still biting her lower lip, Mary smiled before releasing it and gracing, just softly gracing her mouth against his before pulling away, causing Bash to breath out and follow her movements, his eyes fixed upon her in utter devotion, adoration and desperation, all at once. “It certainly wouldn’t be as fun.” she simply said and they both grinned before Bash smirked and crashed their lips together in a kiss that was all lips and tongues and teeth and passion because there was no time to waste on patience or carefulness.

Her fingers set to tug at his hair lightly as her back arched forward and now fully closed any possible space between their bodies, her hips swaying forward against him in a manner that took away that last bit of cautiousness that he still held as he was trying to untie the back of her bodice.

And thus, there was a distinct sound of fabric and ribbon being torn apart and Mary pulled back slightly as she laid a pretty strong slap at his collar bone.

“Hey-ow! What on earth was that for?” Bash asked, going from a man of lust and seduction to a perfect image of a confused, insecure little boy within two seconds.

“That is the third dress this week, Bash!” Mary frowned, her shoulders shrugging down with a sigh as she glanced down at the lovely lace patterns of her sleeves and continued in a more hushed tone “And I quite liked this one as well…”

Bash only chuckled, relieved that it was only that, his lips quickly returning to nibble softly at her jaw, but she pushed him away, causing that confused and now almost frightened and hurt little boy’s expression to reappear instantly. It was quite the adorable sight and it caused Mary to mellow down and offer him a warm sympathetic grin, her head tilting slightly as she raised her eyebrows, “You can’t keep doing that, I am going to be spending more time with my seamstress soon than with you! And we already have far too little time to spend together lately, I mean together like this…”

“Which is exactly why I always need to act quickly” he smiled brightly again and pressed her forehead against hers. Mary chuckled and graced her fingers across his face in the softest, most loving and innocent of manners, until her expression added a shade of mischief to her movements. “You know…” her legs tightened around him, “We don’t necessarily have to do this with the full undressing part, you know we've done it without it before.”

However, as as exhilarating as Mary’s closeness and such a tempting proposition was, Bash still frowned a bit sadly as he cupped her face with his hands softly, “But I don’t want you and another twenty layers extra. I want you…” He kissed her lips slowly, “You…”, his lips pressed against her her jaw before they moved, not once leaving her skin, to her neck, all the way up to her earlobe, “You…”

Mary quickly found that she had slight trouble breathing again and she sighed, though she didn’t move away this time “Unless you learn sewing, there will be no me… I mean it, Bash. I don't mind having them laying on the floor or being thrown into some never before known corner of the room but I do quite like my dresses intact as far as the stitching goes..." she laughed and leaned her head against his, "Unless you learn dress designing and measuring methods sometimes soon.”

Suddenly, it was Bash who pulled away, with the strangest, most confident smile upon his face and his eyebrow quirked upwards. “Well, how difficult can it be?”

And now it was Mary who raised her brow soon afterwards, “What, are you serious?”

Bash moved away, much to puzzled Mary’s discontent, and carefully placed her down from the cupboard. He guided her a few steps forward and when they stood perfectly still, facing each other, he placed his hands on her shoulders and smoothed them down, all to her elbows. “The measuring bit is the trickiest one, right?” He suddenly spun her around slightly and pulled her closer until her back and her shoulders were resting against his chest. His lips moved back to her ear as he uttered, in the faintest, most deepest and self-assured of whispers, “I'm a quick learner and I can guarantee you I won’t even need any sort of measuring tool to remember each inch of your body with perfect precision.” Mary let her head fall back against his shoulder as her eyes fluttered closed, a grin slowly spreading across her lips. "Have I ever told you that you are positively beyond repair? I think I didn't fill my daily quota of reminding you about that."

The boy only let out a quiet chuckle against her neck and continued on his task. His hands returned up her arms, "So arms, and the shoulders, they need to measure those, too, right?" He gently pulled down a piece of the lace fabric, revealing her left shoulder and began covering it with kisses in a line that lead to her neck while his hands suddenly ripped apart what was left of the ribbon and buttons connecting the back of her dress. Well the dress was already ruined, so he might as well have finished it and Mary didn't seem to object at all this time as her lips parted slightly in an expression of eagerness and pleasure, her neck leaning sideways, offering more access as her fingers tangled up in Bash's hair, but he had already moved on, at least with his hands.

"And then the waist...", he placed both his hands around the gorgeous thin, inward curve of her upper body and pulled his fingers slowly up her dress, which now lingered only very delicately upon her body, threatening to fall down without his hands to secure it. "And then..." he made sure his hands only teasingly ghosted over Mary's chest until they reached her collar bone and grinned at his wives small whimper of discontent at the sudden lack of touch, her back impatiently arching her torso forward.

However, Bash had, yet again, seemed to have desired to move onto yet another part of her physique since he very quickly maneuvered around her until he was facing her again and took her hand leading her to another part of the room, kissing her knuckles softly as his lips spread into the cheekiest, sweetest smile that caused Mary to chuckle quietly. "You know, never before did my seamstress take my measures in bed." she raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Shh, my professional techniques are highly unique!" he assured her with a bit of a frown before he grinned brightly.

"Oh, I can see that", she let out a brief laugh as he suddenly grabbed her by her waist and threw her gently on the bed.

"Now... Where was I...", he slowly climbed up on top of her and Mary was already set to pull him closer and tug off his shirt but he quickly pulled backwards, or, well, downwards. "Ah, I know..."

Mary huffed. "My seamstress had never tested my patience and nerves like this, if she did, a punishment would instantly be in order..." she joked and Bash looked up at her with the most adorable, sweetest face of utter sadness.

"Do not judge my work so quickly, Your Grace, I beg of you! As I assure you you'll find my services to be most fulfilling..." Mary grinned again as his cheeky smile reappeared. He then stood up into a sitting position, pulled up her skirts and placed one of her legs carefully onto his shoulder. "I'm not quite sure if they measure these... But I did say my trade is unique..." The young man placed a gentle kiss against her ankle, one of his hands securing her leg against him as the other's fingers trailed very, very softly against her inner calf. Mary whimpered again as she bit her lip strongly, her breathing quickening. The boy continued, his hand moving down to her thigh, his lips to her calf and his other fingers crossing against the gentle, pale skin of her inner leg only ever so softly.

The young queen anxiously awaited for him to continue, her eyes fluttering closed, her teeth biting delicately on one of her finger knuckles as a moan spread from her lips, her throat no longer being able to restrain it, her other hand clutching at the sheets around her.

But Bash seemed to be finished once again as he now placed her leg down and moved away slightly, crossing his hands against his chest. Mary propped herself up on her elbows to shoot him with a gaze almost furious.

"Well, I think that would be all. You may expect your new dress in five days."

The biggest smirked crossed against Mary's face as she all but plunged right at him, tackling him down on the sheets behind them. "You are a terrible, terrible seamstress!" She lowered herself to kiss up his stomach and pulled his shirt off and over his head.

Now it was Bash's turn to lose his breath, and incredibly quickly at that, as Mary's lips and the tip of her tongue wandered up against his skin. "Is this supposed to be my punishment?" he gasped out in an utter pleasure that contradicted his words and Mary set up on top of him, grinding her hips against his slowly, quite pleased with the back arching, head thrown back and arms clutching at her legs type of a reaction that it elicited from her husband.

She first chucked but then gave him the sternest possible expression she could muster up in that moment, her hands against her hips as she eyed him down. "Yes, and you will have to endure it, like any good servant."

Bash pretended to sigh in discontent although he was actually quite delighted with his submission. "Well, if I have to..." His wife lowered herself down against him and laughed against his skin as she nibbled on his collar bone. "Although I have to admit I do love serving to my queen's highest pleasures..."

The girl moved up to peck his lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere." she whispered. "But do keep it up."

Pulling even closer to each other, they both laughed before their lips met again, urgently and longingly and happily, their bodies tangled together in much the same manner.

And it was honestly quite a good thing that there were no court meetings held on that weekend afternoon, as the king consort and queen of Scotland were highly and very thoroughly busy with other very urgent matters throughout most of what remained of the day...

#mabastian #mash #mashfic #reignfic #here my lovely mashers have some happy steamy mash moments to distract you from all the bad things in this fandom right now!#sebastian de poitiers #mateja writes

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