#garcy ficlet

[princessamerigocreations]

Adrenaline rush

They were both panting and the adrenalin was surging in their veins.

Flynn and Lucy stared after the sleeper agent who was running now but they both know he had not much chance of surviving with those cutwounds he had.

"Shouldn't you go after him?" asked Lucy in a slightly trembling voice.

"No, sure as hell I won't leave you alone again. " Flynn grumbled. "Are you sure you are all right?"

They were standing in that dark and narrow alley. Flynn's eyes roamed at her ad if he wanted to be sure there was no cell in her body which was hurt.

Lucy stared into his eyes. In her mind, he replayed the scene, how she thought this was the end, the Rittenhouse goon would stab her or cut her throat. Then suddenly Flynn was there out of nowhere, pushed her out of harm's way and then he went for that bastard. Lucy feared for his life more than for her own. He was so fearless, so strong, so brave. And all this to save her.

And now he had such a fear in his voice and such a gentleness in his touch on her face which had a light scratch.

They could have been killed... They could have been killed... The words were in Lucy's mind like a chant. From the horrid realization all her nerves and cells were dancing, every fibre in her body was happy to be alive. Her blood was throbbing in her ears. And she wanted more. To feel more, to sense more, to live more. It was like a sheer, primal instinct that drove her hands to grab the lapel of his coat and she pulled him in for a kiss. It was, a wild, harsh, almost animalistic kiss, but she didn't care, she couldn't care. And after a moment of shock, Flynn returned the kiss and pressed her to the cold brick wall. Lucy felt nothing else but the urge to be his there and then.

[electricbluebutterflies]

I think it was a Garcy ficlet that brought me to your blog but I can't recall which one

Awwh. I thiiiink you turned up when I was doing the secret-relationship AU continuity...

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Number 11 from the prompt list, if you have not done it yet 😊

Ugh I had to wait to answer this one because SOME HELLSITE, not naming names here, deleted @qqueenofhades again and therefore @timeless-season-four and this is tied into the latest episode, Unsinkable. So uh probably go read that first.

This prompt comes from this list here, the quote chosen being, “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved.”

There’s no real light where they are. Only pinpricks of it, tricks of the light that seem to slide over the shapes around them, like looking for rainbows in oil slicks. But that’s all right. She doesn’t need to see. That’s what she has her fingertips for, and right now, those fingers are sliding over every curve of him that she can reach, the bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the broad slope of his shoulder.

Flynn barely stirs. He just survived a sinking ship, swimming in freezing water, and then (thoroughly) fucked her, so Lucy supposes he’s allowed to lie there like a log for a bit if he feels like it. She’s just scared. So, so scared, that he might not be real.

In the dark, she can breathe as raggedly as she wants, and let her hair fall across his chest, and press her forehead to his. Flynn reaches up, his fingers clumsily finding her hips, keeping her steady as she settles on top of him - not, this time, out of carnal pleasure but simply to press together, to feel how solid he is, to keep as close as she can. In the dark, she can let out her fears, silently, and hold him, tightly as she wants to.

“Are you warm enough?” Lucy asks. He must be warm. He has to be warm. She won’t lose him to hypothermia, after all this.

“I’m warm,” Flynn mumbles, his accent thick, his lips barely moving.

Lucy brushes her lips over his closed eyes. He was so cold when she first grabbed him. His clothes were freezing and weighed about as much as he did, they were so waterlogged. She kissed his fingers over and over until they were no longer tinged blue, but still, she fears, she fears...

I love you. It’s not something to say right now, although she’s sure Flynn knows it already. But they’re too tired for the conversation that’ll have to happen afterwards. So she just thinks it instead. She pushes his hair back out of his face, learns him by touch alone, and holds him until she feels like she is the darkness, wrapping around him, hiding him from the world, from pain, from danger.

This is far from the ideal spot. They’re in a random storage room of some kind. But she wouldn’t trade it for a palace right now. Lucy presses her forehead to his, feels Flynn’s breaths even out into sleep, and sinks her heart into his ocean.

_____________________________________________________________

Flynn wakes up and for a wild second is sure he’s gone blind.

Then he remembers - finding the tattered remains of a lifeboat (the irony is not lost on him), Lucy, kissing her like it was the only thing that could save him (maybe it was), finding a random, unoccupied space--

Lucy’s on top of him now, her breathing a bit ragged, but when he reaches up and pushes some of her hair out of her face, she doesn’t stir. Asleep, then. But not at rest.

He’s not sure he... Lucy has been walking a line, he knows, between being forthcoming and being respectful, when it comes to what they are to each other. And it’s not that he’s doubted her. But he’s not sure he actually understood how much she - for him - until he saw her face as he staggered out onto the deck. It was blazing. It was a campfire in the middle of the woods, it was a lighthouse in a storm, it was a candle in a haunted house. And she’d kissed him, like--like--

Part of him wants to shake her. To say, don’t you know? Don’t you know what measure of man you love? Why would you do that? Why would you let my ink stain your pages? Lucy means light, and he is the opposite of that, but God, Mother Mary, someone, give him the softness and courage to love her back the right way because for some reason despite all of it, Lucy loves him. He cannot deny the press of her lips against his skin, her sighs in his ear, her warmth taking him in. He can’t insult her by ignoring it or dismissing it. And all he wants is to be worthy of it.

All this time and he’s still looking for absolution.

Flynn’s fingers tangle in her hair as he gently combs it back, hampered by his lack of sight, and he secures his arm further across her waist so she doesn’t slip off him and fall. They need to find Rufus and Wyatt, they need to get off, get home... but maybe just a little longer, he’ll let her sleep. Because here, in the darkness, he feels he’s loving her as he’s meant to - and for better or for worse, the way Lucy seems to want to be loved.

__________________________________________________________

Wyatt likes to keep himself busy when he’s upset and right now is no exception. Lucky him, there’s plenty of help needed on a ship that’s taking in survivors from a horrific shipwreck, and he runs around fetching blankets, food, water, taking down names of survivors, reuniting people, comforting children, and drying the tears of newly-made widows. It’s great fun, oh yeah, puts him right back in the Alamo, right back in fucking Kuwait and Afghanistan, but at least it’s not leaving him alone with his thoughts.

And his thoughts are really... not great.

There’s really no doubt what Lucy and Flynn are up to. Um, well, maybe not that specifically. If Wyatt had just gone swimming in below zero temperatures he sure wouldn’t be able to get his dick up. But they’re kissing, and cuddling, and being fucking adorable and in love somewhere on this fucking ship and Wyatt really, really, really...

He inhales the stinging sea air. Grips the rails. Stares at the dark void where he thinks the horizon is until everything evens out again. It’s dark out here on the deck, and cold, but he needs it. Needs the chill. Needs a little... self-flagellation.

Because he’s not gonna make the same mistake a third time. Jess, then Lucy, now... he’s not gonna focus on what he wants and wallow in how much it hurts him. He’s going to love someone right, for once in his stupid life.

It’s not the kind of love that is sung about, or shown in films, or gets everyone screaming at a television show for five seasons. It’s the kind of love that’s hidden under a blanket fort at midnight during a sleepover. The love at the back of a movie theater. The love you can only think about when nobody else is around, the love you tuck very carefully in between the curve of your heart and that shadowy other thing that science can’t detect but everyone knows is there.

Wyatt tucks it there now, and warns it to stay. Sit. Quiet. Good boy.

The sky looks like spilled oil, colors at the corners of his eyes, and that, Wyatt thinks, that’s what this love looks like.

[secretnerdprincess]

Wish You Were Here

This is a connected series of ficlets collected from twitter prompts in honor of the 1st anniversary of Garcy Weekend. They were supposed to just be a random bunch of stories, but they took on a life of their own...

Together they tell the secret history of Lucy Preston and Garcia Flynn. How they fought and fell in love over the course of two seasons with a very special ending that no one asked for, but I couldn't help but give you. These are the hidden moments we never see on screen.

This is my gift to GarcyFam for our one year anniversary of Garcy Weekend.

An alternate timeline in the Threading the Timelines series.

[kncrowder88]

She couldn't look at the bottle without remembering his words.

So she went to him, and they talked all night.

She feel asleep as exhaustion creeped in, he let her have the bed.

He covered her up, closed the bottle, and settled in the chair.

Come morning, he woke early, careful not to wake her.

He left the room, careful to make sure the door was secure behind him, and got coffee for both or them. No one else was awake, no one else was ever awake this early.

He sat in the chair....Waiting...Patient...Wondering....Would she regret

She woke with an apology on her lips, he greeted with a tease.

He smiled, she joked, he gave truth. She opened up. He shared and teased.

It was a morning they wouldn't mind repeating again.

One they did, as the days turned to weeks and time went on their bond growing stronger. She was right..... It was easy to talk to each other.

[emmathompsonsmartini]

I’m going through my notes on my phone and I have so many little Garcy drabbles/ficlets that I don’t remember ever posting so uhhh if anyone’s interested in reading those, I’ll probably post them

[tearsforthefallen]

A short ficlet for all those Garcy fans :))

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Author Ask Game

I was tagged by the amazing @ranger-of-estel. Thank you!

Author Name:

misscrazyfangirl321 (Tumblr)

MissCrazyWriter321 (AO3)

Fandoms You Write For:

I used to write a lot for the DCTV fandoms, but for a long while, it has been mostly Timeless fic. I’ve written a tiny bit for Prodigal Son, and I’ll probably write more, but so far, I haven’t written much. 

Where You Post:

I post a lot of my drabbles and things on Tumblr. Only my longer/more solid works get put on AO3, unless it specifically fits into one of my ficlet collections. 

Most Popular Oneshot:

Sticking to AO3 for this one, because it’s easiest. (I have some old abandoned ff.net accounts, but...( 

What He Cannot Say, the first Garcy oneshot I ever posted. 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Drabbles for Pinto, which isn’t really a standard multichap but a collection of drabbles. 

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Forgotten, the multichap that I started and then ran into issues with. I’m still fighting with chapter 3, I promise! 

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

(Edit: I skipped this question!) I was probably most nervous about posting “Forgotten,” because I know my track record with finishing WIPs. 

How Do You Pick Your Titles:

Usually by stressing over it for half an hour, scrolling through the fic to look for lines to use, looking up songs that I think fit the fic, and eventually putting a random string of words together. 

Do You Outline:

Sometimes, for longer fics, but I try not to. It takes some of the fun out of it for me. 

How Many of Your Stories are complete:

All of my one-shots are, but... I don’t think I have a single multichapter fic marked complete on AO3. ... Working on it. 

In-Progress:

Moments Between

Making Her Own Way (Just Like Her Father)

Light Up The Dark

Forgotten

Coming Soon:

Good question! ;)

Honestly, I have no idea. Aside from the fact that I have a completed fic set in the universe @heytheredeann and I write for that I need to post, I genuinely have no idea. It’s a surprise! 

Do You Accept Prompts:

Yes, definitely! I can be a little slow/sporadic about answering them, but I always love them. 

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For:

See above!.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions

@only-freakin-sunflowers @writtenwolves @x-voyevoda @somekindofflowergirl and @darealbellabelleoftheball

[princessamerigocreations]

A shocking revelation

"Don't!", Flynn shouted in a strange voice. "You can't kill her!"

The members of the team looked at him in confusion, anger, shock and a combination of those emotions, while a slow smirk spread on Emma's face.

"What?" Lucy asked in a trembling voice.

"Are you kidding me? asked Rufus aghast.

"Give me one reason why not to kill this bitch. And it should be a good one!" Wyatt was on the edge of exploding of anger.

"Because..." started Flynn with a tortured expression. But Emma was faster, enjoying every single word she uttered.

"Because if you kill me... you will kill our son, right, Flynn?"

[electricbluebutterflies]

I posted 5,390 times in 2022

That's 1,443 more posts than 2021!

562 posts created (10%)

4,828 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ourconversationranshort

@withahappyrefrain

@apple-grass-and-smiles

@amandamonroe

@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

I tagged 2,638 of my posts in 2022

#queue - 1,092 posts

#ebf liveblogs life - 359 posts

#trope weakness tag - 115 posts

#ebf writes fic - 99 posts

#poetry - 83 posts

#flashing gif - 73 posts

#reminders - 65 posts

#humans being human - 62 posts

#context doesn't help - 62 posts

#life tips - 58 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#dude is from here and anyone who learned to drive in/around cinci knows the traffic patterns haven't changed since the interstates were put

My Top Posts in 2022:

(four out of five are ficlets so under the cut...)

#5

Garcy + I cannot kiss you and I want to.

Usual canon-divergence, pre-relationship, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

The timing is never right.

The timing is never right, and it’s tearing him apart, and to know that there is light at the end of this should be powerful enough but not anymore. Not as the time gets closer, not as she gets closer.

He had memorized the ending portions of her journal before he met the version of her that exists in his timeline – the possibility of parallel universes has occurred to him as a certain explanation, but the version he thinks of as his Lucy has some differences from the alternate version of herself who stopped him from committing a desperate act. She’s more fragile, for one. Has not yet become all that she will be.

And he loves her anyways, and he cannot do a damn thing about it, and perhaps this is some kind of purgatory and he deserves every moment.

A memorized timeline and he still has a year to go, and the waiting gets worse with every passing day, every step closer to this woman who still does not see her power. She has plenty of people on her about her abilities and potential, yes, but it’s more… the inner strength of her, the patience on the long days and bad nights, the fact that she has never given up on him even when he was unforgivably terrible to her and still she-

Flynn has never been a great believer in the idea of soulmates, and fate as a more general concept didn’t make sense to him until his previous life was torn away, but there is something deeply comforting in knowing that there is still a future ahead of him and every bit of it is wrapped up in this tiny damaged woman who in turn will go supernova because of his faith in her. They save each other. That was the last part of the journal, followed only by a set of words no version of her would understand the significance of unless he had loved her and-

The timing isn’t right yet, but he still looks at her and wants to know what she feels like in his arms for purely emotional reasons, what she tastes like, how she would move over him and-

He is brought out of his distracted state with her hand on his shoulder, and he realizes that he cannot remember what he is trying to read or anything else around him but her.

“Something wrong?” she asks, and he has made progress as a person these past few months in particular but there is still a unique purity to her worries and he-

“You shouldn’t be so close.”

She glances away for a moment and he can feel the unspoken thought of here-we-go-again and yes he knows it is a certain kind of improper to inflict his wayward emotions on a woman with no real obligation to handle them but is it truly wrong if they are in balance on this, if she does the same in return as often as she does, if she-

“What did I do now?” and oh the sadness in her voice, her wide eyes, this tragic woman who has been treated like a mistake too many times and-

“The timing isn’t…”

“Timing for what, exactly?”

Hell with this, he’s never been one for holding back and this feels like a strange enough exception and time to end it.

“I cannot kiss you. And I want to.”

“Because of the journal,” she finishes.

“Yes.”

“Things have already happened that weren’t how you memorized them,” she reminds him. “We don’t have to follow some script because-“

“I am trying to protect you.”

“What you’re actually doing is frustrating the hell out of me. What you say and what you want… shouldn’t be different things.”

But they have to be, he wants to say. They have to be or else he will hurt her, they have to be or else-

She closes the distance before he can stop it from happening, and it is the lightest most innocent breath of a first kiss, and he is unraveled.

“There. Technically, you didn’t kiss me.”

“Still…”

“There is no right time. Maybe there has never been and will never be. Be in this moment with me.”

He is not ready, and he knows that will be respected clearly enough, but for a moment he can almost let her be right. Maybe there is no right time, he repeats. Maybe there is only this.

Every instinct in him says this is still not quite enough, but he memorizes the taste of her, lemon lip balm and sweet-sadness, and not now but soon.

19 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

#4

“you look better in my clothes than i do.” for Garcy? Pretty please?

Y’all know where this goes. Pre-relationship-ish, PG-ish, also on ao3.

He justifies it for a long time, perhaps too long, the same stubborn way he approaches everything else with her.

Lucy is both small and not used to colder climates such as this place in the middle of nowhere – exact location unknown to them for safety purposes, but somewhere up close to the Canadian border, Flynn has figured out that much between the snow and the size of the wildlife outside. He has survived worse and will do so again, knows how to adapt for weather. She… hasn’t.

There is never enough preparation, in their own time or any other. They know this by now. It is the least he can do to offer her one of his sweaters, soft and in a good dark red color, and allow her to nest.

What he does not expect, and what he should see coming by this point, is that she takes this as invitation. Lucy is not used to kindness, it is frightfully apparent, but if given an inch she takes everything she can. Just as a few late nights of conversation led to her occupying an armchair in his room instead of a bed in her own, so does one little offering give her permission to go through his things and claim whatever she wants for warmth.

By the time winter starts to fade, and it is longer here than either of them expects, her default outfits are borrowed sweaters over leggings and no one else bothers to say anything to him about it. And if she has to defend her choices, he doesn’t hear about it, which makes him suspect no such thing happens because he would. Dynamics are improving, he reminds himself, dynamics are improving but imperfect and-

It is so normal now to slip into their room with as much grace as his body allows and see her as she always is, nested in that chair, most of her body tucked up in whatever sweater she’s decided to hide herself in today. It has been months since this pattern started. It has been months since he’s bothered to question any part of it.

She glances up at the sound of the door closing behind him, and it amazes him how they are comfortable in silence, the two of them the most vocal members of the team but not together, not like this, not-

“Something wrong?” she asks after a few moments.

He is unsure how to answer that question, unsure what he’s even doing to worry her. Motionless and watching her, yes, but is that unusual? They are comfortable now, he reminds himself, she moved in of her own free will and has made herself a perfect roommate and-

“No?” He can’t figure out what she’s seeing, and they can’t get in each other’s heads quite yet, so-

“Staring at me.” Lucy uncurls her body enough to make better eye contact with him, and it’s clear enough she’s not bothered so much as just a little concerned. “Like I’m… I don’t know what you-“

“You look better in my clothes than I do,” he says too quickly in the way that all reverent and fearful things must be said. “That color accents your hair.”

She glances away, slightest hint of a blush forming, and he overstepped, he can see that, he-

“At least you’re creative,” she murmurs. “Never gotten that compliment before.”

“You were never the clothes-stealing type?”

“Usually didn’t last long enough to get a chance.”

They don’t talk about her past. Other than the parts she didn’t even know about until recently, it hasn’t seemed important. As compared to his own scarring, hers has less opportunity to damage them, and maybe that’s an oversight, maybe-

“I don’t mind,” he says, because he needs to.

“I know. And I try not to wear-“

“You could. All that is mine is yours.”

He means it innocently enough, in the way that she rummages through his sweater drawer for warmth and if she needs an old t-shirt for her threatened scheme to paint the bathroom then she’s welcome to that too. But he also means it in the deeper ways, those that lives are made out of. What little he has left, and whatever lies on the other side of their war, she is welcome to. He has felt this way for a while now, and waited perhaps too long to say it, and-

“Too bad I don’t have anything to offer in return,” she says too quiet.

“You keep me company. More than enough.”

22 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

#3

and it always leads to you in my hometown

Post-canon-divergent Hellcheer... fluff-adjacent? Someone described this as a dark-chocolate kind of fluff so we're gonna go with that. PG-ish and also on ao3

It becomes a routine, in the way of such things.

Chrissy gets out of Hawkins, to the surprise of most people who know her, packs her important possessions ten days after graduation and leaves a note saying she’s going to try to start over in Chicago and makes sure to call home two days later to confirm she’s still alive. She finds a life for herself in the inner suburbs, gets a job as a secretary at a law firm, starts taking night classes to become a paralegal. Does okay, in the grand scheme of things. Calls her parents every other Thursday night like clockwork because family is still family, but tries to block out the voices in her head otherwise. Heals.

But she comes home for the holidays every year, because she’s still a nice girl even if she didn’t really keep in touch with anyone from high school. There’s still the obligation to remind people that she exists and is living a mundane but happy life, and no she isn’t seeing anybody but her dog’s real cute, and what may or may not have happened in spring ’86 matters less and less every winter.

She has routines. December 23 is one of them.

The thing about her leaving that didn’t make it into the local story was exactly who disappeared for three days that summer to help her, out of the goodness of his heart and a sense of obligation after she did almost die in his trailer a couple months earlier. They became friends after that, in a trauma-bonded opposites-attract sort of way, and by the time she realized her plans would be easier with a getaway driver it was a logical enough option. Eddie is good people under all his armor, Chrissy had learned by then, one of the most loyal people she’s ever known, and that too became a routine phone call, every Saturday around noon, only real thing tethering her to what hasn’t felt like home in years and-

He stayed, to the surprise of pretty much everyone who’s ever met him. He had a younger herd of misfits to supervise for a couple years, and before that project ended he tended bars across two counties and turned out that was enough of a life, and there are people who need him, and he never really was the sort of person who actually gets out of southern Indiana, and-

December 23 is their routine, a standing meetup at dusk at a particular park shelter. Not always the only time they ever see each other – the band came up to Chicago twice this past year for different gigs and he ended up on her couch both times because he didn’t feel like being crammed sardine-style in a cheap hotel room with the other guys – but the high point of her year if she’s honest with herself. Every year she waits for something to go wrong, for him not to show up or there to be a ring on his finger that wasn’t there last time or-

She looks different now, looks different since he came up back in August – a week or two after that she decided she needed a change and she wanted a haircut like Princess Diana, and wow was that a mistake, and it’s at an awkward stage of growing-out and there was no way in hell she would’ve been able to stuff all of that in a hat. Every year she’s a little more worried about how she looks, the genuine kind of worried not like she used to be when she thought that was all she had, more like…

Chrissy is, in her way, a little bit in love. Turns out she’s a bit of a loner if left to her own devices – she has a lot of acquaintances and does get out of her apartment enough, but no one really close – and if she has to be one cliché then let her be this one. Let her be the woman who never quite got over the high-school crush she never admitted. Let her be-

Eddie’s sense of time has never been reliable, and he’s a little late but not quite enough to worry her. He’s changed too, in little ways – she can’t remember ever seeing his hair pulled back but she knows that’s probably more practical than aesthetic, and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two longer than whatever his usual routine is and goodness she shouldn’t be thinking about yanking him down and-

“You’re here,” he says, and this is why she kinda loves him, the enthusiasm in how he approaches life, no false fronts just raw emotions at all times and no self-consciousness whatsoever.

“So are you.” She can feel herself blushing, and she’ll blame the cold for this, same explanation for her hands in her pockets because she’s not sure what kind of physical control she actually has right now. At least it isn’t snowing this year. At least-

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“What, you don’t have better plans?”

“I have my choice of burnt hams for the next few days. Tonight is all yours.”

The thing is, she’s not sure there was ever a time when they didn’t flirt like this, like there’s always that line they’ll go right up to but never cross. She knows he thinks she’s pretty in the most real way, and he’s been a nice daydream over the years, and-

He pulls her into a hug, and he smells like boy and home and she’s a little overwhelmed. “Keep waiting for you to cancel because you got some lawyer to put a ring on you,” he murmurs. “Can’t imagine they’d-“

“Lawyers aren’t my flavor,” she counters. “And you haven’t met some girl down here?”

“I’ve met too many girls,” he laughs, and she knows, there have been a few mistakes over the years that she got to talk down in the way only an out-of-state phone call can resolve. “Nothing stuck.”

She can’t hope. She does anyway.

Normal people, Chrissy tells herself, don’t do this. Normal people don’t linger in long-distance mutual pining for so many years because they’re too damn fragile to think about anything more. Normal people, like she’s trying so hard to be, don’t-

“Any reason for that?” she asks, and her breath catches and they’re both too close and not close enough for the conversation she suddenly needs to have right now.

“Thought you’d never ask. See, the timing keeps not being right, and who the hell am I to compete with a dog with a ridiculous name, and-“

“Excuse me, Peppermint is not-“

“So, you know. Waiting on the girl who got away is a little distracting.”

“I’m right here.”

“And you won’t be in four days.”

“You could come with. You didn’t complain about my couch last time, Peppermint likes you, and… you’re better than this.”

See the full post

33 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#2

Drukkariiii

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa both of them, but Druig is far, far worse.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them both.

Who starts the tickle fights Makkari. Whaaaat, she's tactile and she wants attention!!

Who starts the pillow fights Makkari. Again, attention. It's EFFECTIVE.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile can go either way.

Who mistakes salt for sugar both of them with about equal frequency.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning Makkari has a valid excuse for how frequently this happens.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines Druig. Does it not work even in a romcom? Too bad, he thinks it's cute and he's gonna say it anyways.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order Makkari, although it's more like her organizational system changes whenever she gets bored and... it's varied on explainability.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies Makkari

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion honestly these babes + candles is a bad, bad idea. Like, make sure the fire extinguisher is within reach kind of bad idea.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen Makkari. Again, tactile.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation Makkari

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines neither?

35 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Garcy + "Quick, kiss me!"

(bonus points for fake marriage on a mission, and for Flynn saying it)

Height difference is a good time, just saying. Usual post-canon-divergence / pre-relationship / PG-ish / also on ao3.

There are, as time passes, a few defaults.

It’s nice to have routines, really. This whole war across time thing doesn’t allow for a lot of stability, and Lucy has picked a very bad time in her life to decide she wants that after all, and she is taking what she can get. And even as dynamics improve every day and they’ve all come to function as a messy but loving extended family of sorts…

Look, Flynn’s people skills are now at least existent, but she’s still the only person he likes. And that means she has to keep an eye on him, because improvement does not mean stripped of certain personality traits that are prone to causing a lot of problems very quickly, and she’s apparently the only person that has ever lived who has ever actually been able to tell him to stop and get results, and either the dead wife must’ve had the patience of a whole cathedral worth of saints or the violent tendencies are a more recent development and neither of those options makes Lucy feel any better and-

Routines, she reminds herself. She likes routines. Even if in this case routines mean she is stuck herding a grouchy tank of a man around eastern Canada. It’s fine. Really.

It’s 1919 and the mission involves making sure the first nonstop transatlantic flight happens without problems, which entails wandering around in the vicinity of a questionably constructed airfield that might as well have a No Girls Allowed sign up on a fence somewhere from how well their side has been going. No cover story has been discussed, but the default is to pretend to be married, default enough that Lucy slips a ring onto her finger before a mission even starts and it feels weird to not wear it in her own timeline and-

How much she likes being fake-married to someone she hasn’t sorted her feelings about will be a fun problem for whatever government-clearance therapist gets to try to untangle her life in a few years, if she lives that long. It is not a problem for right now.

Point is, this is the easy but boring side of the mission, the part Lucy has a similarly mixed relationship, not the worst thing in the world but she could be so much more useful if she had a better idea what they were looking out for in the first place, if-

All of a sudden, Flynn stops, cold and with that wild look in his eyes and there is something feral in that man, Lucy thinks, something primal that has been awakened by pain and cannot be quieted and-

“Quick, kiss me.”

She’ll ask questions later. She is going to have a lot of questions. For the moment, she trusts him enough to cooperate.

Kissing someone an entire foot taller than her, Lucy learns, requires a little more coordination than she expects. She has to yank him down and stand on tiptoe and it really is awkward and a little uncomfortable, and she crashes in with a little more intensity than intended and… it’s a good kiss. She’s wondered about him like that for years now, the kind of wondering one does when there’s only one viable option for one’s regular daydreams, and reality is just a little softer than she expected, and she’s pretty sure he makes some kind of low growl into her mouth and that is unfairly hot, and-

Just as quickly as it began, it is over. His hands stay on her waist, but she is small again, small enough to hide against his body and that at least is familiar and safe and-

“Needed to-“

“You don’t need to explain,” she says before he can launch into what she is sure will be an elaborate apology because good grief, for a man who’s been obviously in love with her since before she met him, there is clearly no intention of ever doing anything with those wayward emotions. “We do what we have to do.”

“Are you hurt?”

Lucy pokes her head up, and it has been too long since she’s tried to flirt with actual intent, but she wants.

“You can massage my wounded feet when we get back home.”

He gives her a look like he’s not sure she actually means that, and dammit how is this the first man she’s ever been around who’s consistently been in awe of her, it is unfair. “If that balances us.”

“I’ll do your neck,” she murmurs, almost laughing. “Can’t imagine that was comfortable either.”

“Next time I’ll just lift you.”

Next time.

Well.

As if her daydreams weren’t annoying enough.

“Good idea.”

43 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

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[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

“Truthfully, this is the fabric of all my fantasies: love shown not by a kiss or a wild look or a careful hand but by a willingness for research.” For Garcy or Asher/Maria.

Thanks to @qqueenofhades who helped me choose which ship I should pick, since I’m an indecisive bisexual.

Lucy didn’t mean to fall asleep.

One minute she was several books deep into researching the Spanish flu pandemic, the next she was wincing as a painful crick in her neck made itself known.

Laura Spinney’s Pale Rider had, apparently, been serving as her impromptu pillow. Lucy sat up, rubbing at her neck, and the blanket over her shoulders nearly fell off.

She hadn’t been wearing a blanket earlier. And... why did she smell coffee?

Lucy picked up the blanket automatically, wrapping it around her, and looked up.

Flynn had pulled up a chair a few feet away and was reading through the other books she’d piled up on the desk, a cup of coffee in his hand. Another mug of coffee, still steaming, was on the table, next to a plate of... were those cookies? Did he make those? When did he make those?

Flynn glanced up at her, nodded at the food, then went back to making notes in the book.

Lucy slid the coffee and cookies towards herself. Two sugars, touch of milk. The cookies were snickerdoodles.

How the hell... when the hell had he learned about the cookies? She was sure she wouldn’t have put that in the journal. It was the most random fact. She must have said something, at some point, a passing comment... or perhaps he’d asked around, Jiya might know something like that. Or Rufus, they’d gotten into a debate about desserts once while Wyatt had put his face into his hands and groaned for a solid two minutes straight.

Flynn’d done research, in other words. He’d asked around. To know what she liked. He’d paid attention to how she took her coffee.

Lucy felt her face heating up as she ate, covering it with a quick sip from the mug. “You... you should get some sleep, too, you know.” Doing this research, that was her job.

Flynn set aside the pen and highlighter he’d been using. “You’re the historian, and we can’t replace your expertise, but we’re all capable of reading. There’s no reason we can’t help share the load a little.”

But it wasn’t any of the others sitting up with her. It was Flynn.

A warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. Who else knew her like this? Who else was willing to put in the work for it?

“Garcia?”

Flynn looked up, startled, his eyes wide.

Lucy swallowed and stood, crossing the couple steps that separated them, and braced her hands on Flynn’s shoulders. Maybe this was how it started. Not with a bang or a revelation but a quiet, sudden knowledge. Oh, there you are. Like studying for an essay or a test and suddenly realizing, I know this material.

She couldn’t breathe as she leaned in, waiting for Flynn to put up a hand to stop her, to shut her down. But Flynn just stared until they were a hair’s breadth away from each other and both their eyes slid closed, and her mouth was against his.

Flynn’s arms encircled her, she found her way onto his lap, and the book, at some point, slid to the floor.

I want to research you, she thought, and maybe that was the same thing as the larger, more frequent word. Maybe she should say that out loud.

But first... she would keep kissing him.

[heytheredeann]

Fanfic question meme

I was tagged by @x-voyevoda, thank you so much!

Author Name:

heytheredeann on Tumblr, Elisexyz on Ao3.

Fandoms You Write For:

I am currently knees deep in the Black Sails fandom, I’ve been writing fix-its for Once Upon A Time for about a year now, and I write a lot of Timeless too. There’s the occasional Agents of SHIELD fic, and... that’s about it? I’ve written for other fandoms, but not too recently.

Where You Post:

I post everything on Ao3, then post a link to it on Tumblr (or crosspost if it’s a very short story).

Most Popular Oneshot:

Sorting by kudos on Ao3, it’s my Marvey soulmates AU, unsurprisingly, given that Marvey (from the show Suits) is the most popular ship that I’ve ever written for, I think XD If we only count stuff from this year, my most popular one-shot by kudos is this Flinthamilton+Miranda AU in which they save Thomas early and there are hugs and tears. because we are simple people with simple needs.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Going once again by kudos, though I haven’t really written many multi-chapter stories, it’s my Timeless movie fix-it. Which funnily enough was supposed to be a one-shot, just some Garcy-leaning stuff, but then I was like “.....there is.....too much crap......in this movie......” and it got five chapters LOL.

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Always The Worst Question.  Okay. I am going to take the pressure off myself and do a top three that isn’t like---my Absolute Favourites. Just some fics that I am particularly proud of, I guess. There’s Echoes of yesterday, which is post-canon Flinthamilton, and it’s soft and I like how the dialougues came out. There’s Should’ve, which is a fix-it about Hookfire, my precious precious brotp, I guess I am very attached to it because no one writes for these two LOL. Last but not least, there’s Cracks, my Wyjess fic about the night when Jessica didn’t die in the altered timeline. I just really like how that one came out.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

All of them. I get particularly nervous about posting multichapters, but I remember hesitating a lot before posting I know you love me from the other side, my Neal Cassidy Lives Fix-It number a million and one, maybe because it’s particularly self-indulgent. 

How Do You Pick Your Titles:

I cry a lot until some god above takes pity on me. There’s the ‘picking song lyrics’ method, though I am trying to use that less, now I generally re-read the fic, start thinking about the overall theme and what exactly it is that I feel like is The Point/I’m trying to say, and try to condensate it in a few words or something? Songs are a good inspiration too, even when I don’t use lyrics.

Do You Outline:

Definitely for multichapters, it helps me a lot to know where I am going, though I am anything but strict with my outline, I make changes along the way 99% of the time. Even with one-shots, I generally prefer to have the idea written down at some point. Sometimes I just have the starting point for the fic, I start writing, and while I’m going it will occour to me where it all is going, so I will write a note at the end of the document. I have a hard time just writing aimlessly, without even a vague notion of where I want it to end, it makes me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m just stretching it out at random XD So generally I have at least a bunch of messy notes about stuff that I want to put in the fic, yeah.

How Many of Your Stories are complete:

All my one-shots, Between (the Timeless movie fix-it) and Porcelain (my Swanfire Beauty And The Beast AU).

In-Progress:

I don’t have longfics that are in progress, but I have collections (Calls me home, a collection of Swanfire ILYs, and To build a home, a collection of mini-stories about a Hookedqueen fuck-buddies to co-parents to lovers AU) and Closer at heart, a series exploring a canon divergence in which Neal was saved by TLK in Quiet Minds. There are other series that are ‘in progress’ in the sense that I can always add one-shots, but they don’t give me a sense of ‘this needs to be finished sooner rather than later’.

Coming Soon:

Hell if I know LOL. I am currently writing for whumptober, though I have totally messed up the schedule by now, so some of those prompts are in the works... Then I have a million WIPs that are in need of attention, among them the instalment to close the Defeating Zelena storyarc in Closer at heart, which---I deeply, deeply loathe. That damn one-shot is killing me, I’m stuck. Ugh. Probably a new I Love You ficlet for Swanfire will be out sooner rather than later. probably. 

Do You Accept Prompts:

Yup! I have prompt lists that you can always choose from, though I accept scenario prompts too! I am not always very fast at filling them, but I do my best XD (obviously, if a prompt is vague it’s easier for me XD)

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For:

Uuuuuhm....... I don’t know? There’s a Neal Resurrection Fic that I’m working on *insert collective gasp of surprise here* that I am pretty excited about, though even just the outline is a complete mess, I don’t know if/when I’m ever gonna finish that one XD Also, there’s a Silverflinthamilton amnesia fic that I have been working on, though, again, it’s far from finished XD

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions

@ilosttrackofthings @writtenwolves @frivoloussuits @paradigmparadoxical @statusquoergo (If you don’t feel like it or you’ve already been tagged and I missed it, feel free to ignore it!)

[qqueenofhades]

I’m so excited. I can’t believe you are writing the entire Garcy all souls trilogy. We don’t deserve you! I really have to say I love Flynn as Jiya’s dad. It’s so perfect. I’m glad they aren’t so aloof now. Love it. Great chapter.

Aha, you’re welcome. I also cannot believe I am writing the entire Garcy all souls trilogy, but then, that was an essentially foregone conclusion around… oh, chapter 9 of TAW or so, when the foreshadowing for their trip to 1590 started appearing and I went “ah fuck I’m gonna have to do the whole thing, SON OF A BITCH, well, here we go.” I have not written three fics in the same verse/as a trilogy before, though I have had sequels to other fics in other fandoms (most notably the 890k monster duology of TDH/TRAT). But this verse is so irresistibly rich and fun and feelsy (and full of so much garbage), and I do love it, so while I complain about my lack of self control, I really put up about 2% of a struggle and then went willingly headfirst into the dumpster.

(On that note, I went back through and tagged all the TAW/TSAS chapters and related ficlets with “all souls au,” if anyone wants to find them in one place.)

As for the chapter, I also have about 1000 Dad!Flynn feelings right now, and especially with him and Jiya (coming on the heels of him and Christian, which is rude). Flynn finally being a proper dad to her and being able to accept that and his feelings about being a bereaved father and everything that goes with that is such a huge part of his character’s identity and gives me Many Feelings. Now that he and Lucy are back from 1590 and getting to interact with the rest of the family in the present again, we will see how that plays out and the various dynamics that develop between everyone. Two of the tags on the fic on AO3 are “Co-Parenting” and “Found Family,” both of which I have an obvious weakness for. So yes.

[beforedawnmuses]

old friend, don’t hide no more

It’s 2 am and this is probably garbage and has a lot of mistakes that I will read, cringe and fix tomorrow - but I wrote a garcy ficlet with a healthy dose of Rufus/Lucy feels because why not.

She listened to the chirping of the birds.

It was strange, it’s not like she hasn’t heard birdsong in months – she’d heard it quite frequently in fact, on their various trips to the past.

But what is strange is to heard birdsong accompanied by the steady hum of the freezer and to not be wearing a corset whilst hearing it. Lucy sits on the steps on their new safe house, a mug of coffee held between her hands provides some warmth in the pre-dawn chill. She isn’t actually sure what time it is – somewhere between three and four in the morning, she guesses – but she had just known that she could not stay in the stuffy little room a moment longer.

The new safe house wasn’t much of a step up from the bunker, but she did like how she was able to step outside from time to time now. Well, not by herself, but no one else was up at this hour and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, and therefore had carefully escaped the room without waking her sleeping companion.

She kept on circling the plan given to them by Future Lucy and Wyatt before they stepped back into their lifeboat and whizzed back to wherever they came from. If they did this within this time frame, if they could get this part from 1956, if they calculated the calibrations to travel back to a time when they already existed…

If. If. If. They hadn’t given them anything concrete and the saving of Rufus could only be completed after they had jumped through a series of hoops. She hated the uncertainty of it all, she wanted Rufus back, no if about it. She missed him. She missed his laugh and his corny jokes and fighting over the TV at two a.m. because he wanted to watch Star Wars, but she didn’t want to give up watching real housewives.

She misses his friendship. She misses the way they understood each other without needing to say too much. He shouldn’t have died Rufus was good, far better than any of the rest of them here and she will bring him back, no matter what it takes, no matter what it costs.

A tear rolls down her cheek and she does nothing to stop it. The weight of her emotions was killing her and she hadn’t been able to feel anything, with Wyatt’s sudden love confession, the appearance of her from the future, moving safehouse and just general fighting Rittenhouse bullshit she hadn’t been able to grieve her friend.

Her sobs become louder and she covers her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater in an attempt to muffle the noise, but she can’t keep it there as soon she has to gasp for breath and she feels like she’s stuck in the ocean where every time you come up for air, another wave drags you under and your lungs just keep on burning because there’s no possible way that you can really catch a break.

Lucy jumps when she feels a hand on her back, she didn’t even hear anyone approach and can’t even bring herself to turn around and see who it is. It’s not going to be who she wants because who she wants is Rufus and he’s not here. Whoever it is sits down next to her and pulls her against his chest, she fights it a first, pushing violently at her companion, but they are stronger than she is and she finds that’s she’s soon pulled tightly against the offending figure’s chest.

Suddenly it’s warm and she can feel life thrumming beneath her fingers which are balled up in his sweater, a heart beats steady against her chest and she gasps for air in time with its beat. A hand trails up and down her back whilst gentle sssh sounds are being murmured against her hair. Just like that, she can breathe again.

She peers through her eyelashes to finally see her mystery companion and is less than surprised to see Garcia Flynn. The two have been sharing a room more or less since their arrival here, Wyatt and Flynn would not bunk together, under any circumstances, so the former had been stuck in a room with Connor. Lucy was supposed to share a room with Jiya, but the sounds of her crying in her sleep had been too much for Lucy to handle and Jiya would not accept any forms of comfort. Flynn had gotten his own room once again and the two had ended up sleeping together under a moth-eaten blanket on a bed that was much too narrow to properly accommodate both of them. But neither tried to change their circumstances nor did they speak about it. It was just simply something that had happened when he’d found her trying to get comfortable on the sofa after the first night and promptly told her he had a perfectly fine bed in his room. After an argument when she told him that she would not be taking his bed, he’d huffily laid down and pulled her in beside him and that was that. 

So it didn’t surprise her that he was here, he probably woke up and wondered where she was. What did surprise her, however, was that she was glad it was him. Which in all honesty, is a little ridiculous, because she’d spent more time with him in the past few months than anyone else by her own choice. So, her relief in his presence is not something that should be a surprise to her.

He rocks them both gently on the step as the last of her tears get soaked up by his sweater and she wonders how his arm is doing with all this movement but decides that it can’t be bothering him that much considering how he’d chucked the sling five days ago.

Her breathing eventually evens out and she shifts, not away from him but instead pulls herself so that she is sitting in his lap and buries her face in his neck. She’s half waiting for a rebuke, a telling off that she shouldn’t be outside without him. But none comes, he instead continues to gently rock them on the step.

She pulls back a little to look Flynn in the eye. “We’ll get him back.” She doesn’t pose it as a question. It’s a statement, a spoken promise between the two of them that if nothing else works then they’ll work it out between them. There’s no one she trusts more and she wants ­– needs­ – Rufus back because she’ll not allow him to become something else Rittenhouse takes away from her. From Wyatt. From Jiya and Conor. From Flynn.

Holding her eyes, he nods in confirmation, understanding the promise completely. Leaning forward, she gently brushes her lips against his, sealing it with a kiss. She kisses him a second time with slightly more vigour, his tongue sliding against hers until they both come up for air, she rests her forehead against his as she once again tries to get her breathing back to normal. Nothing more is said, and Lucy turns to face the sunrise and watches as the darkness gives way to the light. She feels him press a kiss against her shoulder and brush a hand gently through her hair.

She’s unaware of the time that the stumble back to their bedroom at, but she clings to him tightly in the small bed and thinks about their promise, how she’ll know he’ll keep it. Something that feels dangerously like hope begins to bloom in her chest.

[squidproquoclarice]

Oh and is the kiss in Zagreb that makes Carol freak out part of your MAWAMS canon?

If there was a first part to this ask, Nonny, it didn't show up. Sadface.I figure at this point, why not--go ahead and consider "On The Bright Side" to be pre-MAWAMS canon. (Though I feel like it's too abrupt a ficlet sometimes and might want to edit/rewrite some of it eventually for the atmosphere and setup, I wouldn't change the essential action and dialogue points.) Lucy frankly deserves to get a good dig in at Carol.But yeah, Garcy needed their own awkward on-mission totally-fake-married kiss, right? I've already got in mind where in MAWAMS the real thing should happen. ;)

[trash-by-european-villains]

So yeah, that "Carol judgingly Rittenstalks Lucy's romantic choices" Garcy ficlet is gonna happen, because I think I've got it about figured out. Hope to get it written up tomorrow.

PuhLEASE DO!!! I will sooo read that.

I'm just....all for her being with Garcia and Carol just fuh-lipping out. And Lucy just telling her to fuck off.