#wip: shutterbug

[faunusrights]

tfw yr gf is the size of both of u put 2gether

[fr--tart]

wip for something feat Shutterbug and Reaper

[604to647]

Training Days

4.6K (includes 8 screenshots, 1 video) / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Rockford leaves for a weeklong tactical training course and you miss him something fierce.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Needy!reader, established relationship, petnames as usual (Shutterbug, gorgeous, baby), sexting, video phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lingerie, sex toys, pussy and penis pronouns (equality!). ✨Feelings✨

A/N: I started this WIP a while ago, but really got inspired to work on it when I saw @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge - the epistolary portion ended up really pulling the story together! And by pulling it together, I mean, made it really horny 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🫣 This is another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio, but as always, can be read standalone (for those that do read the series, this one can fall anywhere in their timeline). The toy Shutterbug has is something like this or this, in case anyone was curious 🤷🏻‍♀️😉

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist / This is the second fic I wrote for the challenge - the first was for Modern!Pero Tovar 🤭

“Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.”

“Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug.  I love you.”

The oft spoken declaration of love and reassurance had been recited just four days earlier when Tim left town for a mandatory weeklong tactical training course, but to you it feels like forever ago.

You had missed him immediately, of course.  The first day felt manageable – the only evidence of Tim’s absence had been the decrease in texts from him during the day, which made sense.  The night had been a different matter; Tim had called to say goodnight after getting back late from a team dinner, and the two of you chatted about your days in an all too quick conversation before Detective Rockford was forced to bed early for what you considered an ungodly start to training the next day: 4 a.m. (Ugh.)  You woke to find a good morning text from him expressing similar sentiments that made you smile.

The second day your detective was gone dragged just as slowly, but was made worse by Tim’s long and physically taxing day, and your own late hours at the office.  There had been no messaging during the day and you missed his call while on the subway home.  When you listened to Tim’s voicemail about how the team had run tactical scenarios for fifteen hours straight and though he missed you terribly, he needed to crash, you understood; still, you felt yourself tearing up, heart sinking from the disappointment of having to wait another day for a live connection.  You made do with listening to Detective Rockford's message a few more times before bed, but the recording was a poor imitation of the real baritone honey that you’re used to having in your ear every night. 

Though it’s not unheard of for Tim to come home after you’ve gone to sleep or leave for duty in the middle of the night, never has your bed felt quite as empty as it does now with him having been gone for several days in a row.  You miss the warmth of your detective’s presence and the way he crowds your side of the bed.  Maybe it’s your imagination but even the scent of his manly musk on your sheets feels too faint; as if in his absence, evidence of his claim to your bed is evaporating at an all too rapid rate.  You toss and turn, sleeping horribly knowing that this newly settled foreignness over your home won’t be lifted anytime soon.

You miss seeing your hulk of a man’s frame take up space in your shared apartment - it feels too open and empty without him here.  More than anything, you long desperately to hear the sweet endearments he coos – Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous; what you wouldn’t give to feel them murmured against your lips.  Oh, his lips.  You miss his lips.  And his hands - those strong hands with the thick veins that pop and thrum when he grabs you by the waist, or tugs on your hair with his deepening his kisses, or slaps your ass when he’s rutting into you from behind… sigh.

You’re also ovulating and horny as hell. 

Relief had nearly been within your grasp last night. 

After another day of very little contact, you settled into bed wearing one of Tim’s oversized band t-shirts that mercifully still held his intoxicating scent, opening up your text messages to ogle the pictures he had sent during the day.  The first few pictures were of your detective and a few of his fellow trainees in full tactical gear; it was easy to pick out Tim’s towering stance amongst the sea of Kevlar.  You squirmed as your eyes raked over his enormous build, made even more mountainous with the added padding of his black regulation jacket; pinching your screen, you zoomed in on Tim’s thick trunk, now accentuated by a pulled tight tactical vest that added even more bulk with its various fastened straps, clips, and pockets bulging with equipment to be handled by Tim’s skillful hands. 

Oh, hands. 

You might have stared too long at that one photo with Tim’s hands in fingerless gloves tightening the strap of his thigh holster; pulse racing, your head involuntarily tipped back onto your pillow with a shaky exhale, imaging how the rough material of those gloves might feel like against your warm, soft skin.

The second set of sent pictures must have been taken later in the day when it was warmer because in them, Tim had ditched the jacket and tac vest in favour of a tight-fitting black t-shirt and dark leather holster.  The sleeves of the t-shirt barely contained his bulging arms - the valiant attempt by the cotton to stretch itself thin over the flex of Detective Rockford’s muscles a true testament to the skill of the shirt’s seamstress.  Your eyes widened to see that new holster struggling in its task the same way the one that currently hangs on your bedpost often does - banded taut across Tim’s expansive frame, straining to leash in all that power Detective Rockford houses in his hard chest.

You might have started to drool a little when you noticed the fully loaded utility belt slung on Tim’s hips and how it did nothing to hide how well his tactical pants fit his muscular form.

But it’s the last picture of the bunch that had you truly sweating; in it, Tim’s holding his firearm with both hands, arms held straight out at the ready, the veins of his forearms and hands protruding boldly from the flex of his beefy arms.  Everything about the photo exuded control, skill, competency.  Your mouth suddenly felt very dry even as your pussy gushed; before you could register its actions, your free hand skimmed up past the hem of Tim’s t-shirt, delicate fingers starting to rub soft circles over the front of your already drenched panties as you gawked at the very picture of dominance and prowess projecting from your screen.

Soon, you found yourself typing out a message to the very man occupying all your thoughts.

<Tip for reading: click on the first screenshot, and swipe/tap to go to the next 🥰>

With a little cry of frustration, you tossed your phone over to Tim’s empty side of the bed and flung yourself dramatically facedown onto your pillow.  In resignation, you reached blindly into your nightstand to fish out your vibrator, positive that you were too wound up and sad to be able to eek out anything but the most fleeting, unsatisfying orgasm. 

Twenty frustrating minutes later, you took no pleasure (literally!) in being right as you fell into another fitful sleep.

---

Today, you’re inconsolable.  Despondent.  Desperate.

Your work day crawls along and you somehow manage to complete all your tasks even though you’re wallowing, beyond distracted and melancholy.  All day long you ache for Tim’s touch – every inch of your body yearns for his sweet kisses and the way only he knows how to handle you rough or tender.  Your ears muffle most incoming sounds, filled instead with the imagined low growls of your detective that vibrate through your chest when his face is buried in your tits and his muffled moans that travel up to your belly when he’s deep between your legs.

You miss Tim’s arms wrapping and crisscrossing on your tummy when he hugs you from behind and his soft warm breath against your neck as he nuzzles in, telling you how much he’s missed you all day.  You miss the way he knows exactly what he’s doing when he flutters kisses down the nape of your neck, bear paw hands moving to grope your breasts, talented fingers always managing to zero in on your already peaked nipples. 

Oh fuck, you’re horny.

By the time you slip into bed, you’re positively dripping from neediness.  You sit anxiously on your bedspread, huffing with impatience before giving up on waiting; pouting, you’re pulling up Tim’s contact info when your phone rings with an incoming call from the man himself.

“Hey Shutterbug, did you have a good day?”

“Timmmmmm,” at this point you miss him so much all you can do is whine his name.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Tim’s voice is sharp, alert.

You know you’re being needy to the point of childishness, brattiness, but you’re so miserable without the comfort of him that you start to tear up just from hearing Tim’s obvious concern, “I miss you so much, baby.  I don’t know… I know it’s only been four days, but the apartment feels so sad and empty without you.  I feel so sad and empty without you.”

“Ohhhh Shutterbug, I miss you so much too.  These training drills have been non-stop, I wish I could have taken a break during the day to let you know how much I’m thinking about you.  You’re always on my mind, I promise.”

“Really?” you sniffle, though Tim’s sweet words have made you smile for the first time all day.

“Of course, gorgeous!  I miss you so much – I’m so fucking tired during these tactical maneuvers because I can’t get a decent night’s sleep without you in my arms.  I asked Housekeeping to bring me another pillow last night so I could hug it while I slept but it wasn’t the same.  It didn’t smell of your sweetness, baby, and I ended up throwing it across the room some time around 3 a.m.”

You giggle at this, “I’m sorry you’re not getting enough sleep, Detective.  I’ve been missing you the most in our bed, too.  I’m wearing your shirts to sleep just to feel even a little bit like you’re here with me.”

“I wish I could see that, Shutterbug.”

“Need to see you, Tim.  Can we switch to a video call?”

“Sure, baby.”  Tim turns on his phone camera and finds it amusing when it seems to take you a little while to do the same.  Chuckling, he listens to you shuffling around in the background of his still blackened screen; when you finally appear, his ethereal angel glowing in high resolution, it was all worth the wait.

You’ve propped up your phone on his side of the bed so Tim can have a perfect of view of you laying back on a nest of pillows giving him a coy and shy look; you’re wearing a sheer pink chiffon negligee, soft ruffles floating over your body and ending just below the cut of a pair of dainty matching panties.  Detective Rockford nearly swallows his tongue when his eyes trail up to find that the cups that would normally cover your breasts have been cut out and replaced by a strategic band of lace that stretches across your chest, just barely covering your pretty nipples.

“See how much I missed you, Detective?”

Tim gulps, “Yeah, I see, Shutterbug.”

Your expression turns faux pouty, “Wish more than anything that you were here, Tim.  But I know I have to make do with my toy until you come home tomorrow.”  Tim watches as you reach for your favourite vibrator, a little red silicone thing meant for dual stimulation with a g-spot vibrator at one end, shaft curving to a little clit sucker on the other.

“Actually, on second thought, I’m not sure if I do see.  Maybe you should show me how much you miss me, baby,” grins Tim, settling back on the hotel mattress and unbuttoning his pants.

You nod demurely, eyes still downcast but Tim spies a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, “I really do miss you, Detective.”  Slowly, slowly, you inch the hem of your nightie up your thighs and spread your legs until the darkened patch on the gusset of your panties is visible onscreen.  Turning on the vibration of your toy, you run the wand up and down your fabric-covered slit, shuddering at its gentle buzzing.

“I can see you’re already dripping wet, gorgeous,” Tim licks his lips.

“And what should I do about that, Detective?” you coo.

“Keep that little toy of yours pressed against where you’re so needy, please.  And play with your pretty tits for me, Shutterbug.”

Grinning to yourself, you close your eyes and roam your free hand over your chest.  You grope and massage your supple flesh the way you know Tim would if he were here, trying to mimic the feel of his meaty hands pulling and kneading your tits, but your hand just simply isn’t big enough.  Giving up, you redirect your efforts to your nipples, already hard and tenting the lace strip that lays prettily atop.

The growling from your phone speakers gets progressively louder as you play with yourself - your own whines and gasps ring back in duet, growing in pitch and intensity.  Alternating between both sides of your chest, you roll your nipples between your fingers - gently at first, then increasing the pinch until you start arching into the welcomed sting. 

“Take them out,” the command is practically snarled, causing your eyes to fly open and lock eyes with the Tim filling your phone screen; his gaze matches his tone, dark and animalistic - teeth practically bared as he labours through his breathing.  In this moment, you realize with relief-tinged triumph that Detective Rockford’s been as desperate for you these past few days as you have been for him.

Voice low and seductive, you purr, “Want to see you too, Detective,” even as you angle your slender fingers to pull down the lace band that stands between your detective and his favourite sight in the world.

“After,” Tim grits, a pained warning.

Not in the habit of denying that handsome face, you relent happily; the look on Detective Rockford’s face when he sees your tits spill out sends a rapid warmth from your newly uncovered chest straight to your throbbing pussy.  If you weren’t so turned on right now, you might giggle from the sight of Tim nostrils flaring at how your now exposed peaks reach out to him, pert and aching.

“Goddamn, baby.  You’re so fucking pretty,” the evident awe in your sweet detective’s voice feeds the fire that’s raging below your belly.  Still stroking your vibrator along the outside of your panties, you hold it down harder, seeking more contact and friction, “Oh, fuck Tim, miss your touch so much.”  You go back to mimicking Tim’s handling of your tits: kneading, caressing, rolling and pinching, tugging hard on your nipples before letting your boobs fall and ripple, ever crying out for more, more, him, him, him.

“Gorgeous, those filthy noises of yours are getting me so fucking hard.”

“Let me see,” you beg, “you promised, Tim.”

As Tim goes to flip his camera around, you turn off your vibrator, freeing your hand to pull down your panties - stopped halfway down your thighs when his monster cock takes over your screen.  Forgetting what you were doing, your mouth pools as you watch Tim’s fist slowly stroke his rock-hard length, thick thumb sweeping over the angry, leaking head.

“Don’t you want to finish taking off those panties, baby?” you can hear the smirk on Tim’s unseen face.

Neediness rearing its bratty head at having what you consider yours unfairly withheld from your touch, you sulk and whine, “Miss him, Tim.  Need your cock so bad.  Wish I could taste him right now.”  Still, you finish slipping off your underwear and kick the drenched scrap of lace off the end of the bed before spreading your legs, smugly imagining the way Tim’s pupils must be dilating at your glistening pussy on display for him.

“Oh shit, Shutterbug.”

Tim’s throaty groan sends a shiver down your body and you’re sure he can see the way your blooming cunt flutters.  “If you need something in your mouth, let’s put that toy of yours to good use.”  Sighing, pathetically aroused, you make a show of running the wand end of your vibrator through your folds and dragging it up, up, up over your stomach - arching your breasts up and out as you trail your wetness all the way past the climb of your throat until you touch the smooth silicone to the corner of your mouth, tongue darting out to give it a little lick.

“Want to see you work that toy like you would my cock, baby.”  You preen at Detective’s directive, eager to give him a show, to please.  Still roughly teasing and grabbing at your tits, you slip your vibrator into your waiting mouth and close your lips around the wand, moaning at the hint of your own taste that hits your tongue.  Sliding the smooth red toy past the suction of your lips, in and out, in and out, timed to Tim’s pumping of his shaft on your phone screen, you close your eyes and imagine that it’s him that fills your mouth.  It’s nowhere enough, but still, your tongue licks and flicks as if it were him and the reward of Tim’s guttural groans and praise compensates for the difference.

“Could watch that talented tongue all night long, baby.”

“So good at that, gorgeous – can almost imagine your hot mouth on my cock right now.”

“I’d ready to tear this place down and race home to you tonight, Shutterbug.”

Tim’s words make your heart race and your cunt flood, and suddenly, the empty ache between your legs can no longer be ignored.  The hand that was playing with your breasts snakes down your body towards your poor neglected pussy, circling home on your swollen clit.

“Is she feeling neglected, baby?” the sneer in Tim’s domineering tone sends a fresh wave of slick cascading down your inner thighs.

Mouth still stuffed with the silicone toy, you nod dumbly at your phone camera, mumbling, “So empty.”

You could swim in the generosity dripping from the baritone birdsong that plays through the speakers, “Why don’t you make your toy buzz and see if we can fill her?”

Sliding the shiny, wet wand out of your mouth, you bring it to life with the touch of a button; with no patience for coyness or seduction, you drop it directly in between your legs, clit jumping when you brush past.  Without fanfare or pretense, you push the toy into your entrance, encountering zero resistance – cunt already dripping with desperation, the toy hardly the largest stretch you’ve accommodated.

Again, you thrust the silicone baton in and out of your hole to the same thumping rhythm with which Tim is working his length; though the curve of the toy brings it close enough to nudge that coveted spot on your inner walls, its reach is nowhere near that of the mouthwatering cock you can’t tear your eyes away from.  Even so, the lascivious sight of Tim thickening as he fists himself and his feral grunts are enough for you to fantasize that he’s with you, making up the remainder of your fill.  You whinny and squirm as the banding coil of your desire begins to tighten.

Over the squelching noises of your own sopping cunt sucking in your buzzing vibrator, you can make out the rambling of Detective Rockford’s filthy praise:

“Look at her swallowing your little toy, gorgeous.  Goddamn.”

“Wish I was there to taste her, baby.  You always taste so sweet.”

“Fuck – don’t you just have the prettiest pussy?  So greedy, too, isn’t she?”

“Miss my messy girl so, so much.”

“We miss you, too,” you whine, “she needs you, Tim!”

The image on your screen disappears as Tim flips the camera back to his face and you gasp sharply when he reappears.  Tim looks wrecked.  Breathing shallow and uneven, eyes blown and jet black, you know what your detective is going to say before he says it, “Baby, I’m so close - want you to come with me.”

You want to give it to him.  You always want to give him everything.  Gliding your vibrator in to the hilt so that the tip nestles against that delicious spot, you fight through amplified waves of pleasure to push the button that activates the sucking mechanism on the opposite curved end, angling it towards your slippery clit as it whirls awake. You press down and the instant the sucker latches onto your already throbbing nub, you howl - legs shooting out rigid, attempting to close.

“Let me see, baby.  Want to see and hear you feel good,” rasps Tim, command throaty and strained.

With what little control you have, you widen your legs again; keeping a hand on your vibe to hold it in place, you start rolling your hips, grinding against that perfect dual pulse that’s thrumming on and in you.  Your cries climb louder, trebling as you chase your high, “Oh god, Tim!  It’s so much, too much!  I’m going to, I’m g-”

“You’re so perfect, baby.  Such a fucking angel when you come.  Give it to me.  Come for me.  Come with me,” roars Detective Rockford, his handsome face pinching, brow furrowing deep as he submits to his climax.

Despite being so very far away, your body dials to Tim’s bliss and you come hard, shuddering and shaking to your own mindless chanting of your detective’s name.

With your descent approaching, you pull your toy from your now overstimulated cunt and turn it off before letting it drop from your limp hand onto the bed.  Eyes glassy and breath still short, you look over to see Tim’s sweet, dopey grin radiating at you from the bright screen; grabbing your phone, you curl onto your side and set it across from your face so you can see the man you’ve been missing all this week a little better.  His hair is messy and a little sweaty, his eyes are tired but they crinkle with clear fondness for you and the sight makes your heart soar - unfortunately, the tightening of your chest prevents it from truly taking flight.

Though your immediate craving for your detective is now satisfied (and oh boy, are you ever satisfied!), your need for him runs so much deeper.  You miss this Tim, the Tim who’s looking at you like he is right now - like you’re the most adored, cherished woman on the planet.  Because that’s how he always makes you feel; that space that Tim himself carved out for you by his side is where you feel happiest, loved, safe.  Sated now is the horny neediness that consumed you this past week, exposing the still very raw longing for the comfort of your shared intimacy and the security that only Tim can provide your heart.  In his very presence and enveloped in Tim’s warmth is your favourite place in this world – the safest of spaces where not only do you know you’ll remain unharmed, you’re unconditionally supported, prioritized, treasured. 

He sees you.  He knows you.  He makes you feel like you can do anything, be anything, and that you’re already everything.  You yearn for the haven of Tim’s love and the confidence it gives you to be your truest self.  He protects you in every way that could ever matter - he’s your safety, your home.  And you miss him so, so much.

“You feel better now, baby?”

You nod, though your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.  “That was incredible, Tim.  You always make me feel so good,” biting your lip, you’re still unable to keep your lash line from watering and blurring the image of your handsome detective.  “But somehow I miss you even more now,” the quiver in your voice as you try to hold back your tears nearly breaks Tim’s heart.

“Hey, hey now,” if Detective Rockford could, he’d move the entire sky to take away his girl’s sadness, “I know what you mean, Shutterbug.  As good as this felt, it’s not going to make sleeping without you tonight any easier.”  He’s mollified when he sees your pretty features softening a little, “Just one more day, gorgeous.  Just one more day and we’ll be together again.”

“Just one more day,” you repeat, smiling a bit more brightly now.  “You should go to bed now, Detective.  It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Why don’t we get ready for bed together? Wanna hear about your day, baby,” offers Tim, not quite ready to let you go.

The two of you take your phones with you to your respective bathrooms; the routine of cleaning up, brushing teeth, changing into sleep clothes not quite as mundane when not performed alone.  The conversation is kept light, hopeful, both of you pacified knowing that this torturous separation will soon be over. 

Still, after climbing back into bed, neither you nor Tim can bear to utter any farewells, opting instead for quietly spoken lullabies composed of loving and reassuring words, and featherlight promises that float loftily over the onset of your shared fatigue.

When you finally fall asleep, it’s to the soft, even breathing and peaceful visage of a sleeping Detective Rockford glowing warmly on your phone screen and the most comforting of thoughts:

Just one more day.

Thank you so much for reading! A little follow-up drabble entitled "Homecoming" will be posted in February! 🥰

If you like epistolary fics, I wrote two for Safest with You: 2 More Days (sextfic) and Holiday Remix (holiday fluff). Please check out all the other Dear-uary entries!!

[alloutofgoddesses]

WIPS of Fics From 2023

These are fics I started reading in 2023 that I will be (hopefully) continuing to read in 2024!

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone - When Thanos snaps, the souls of those he takes end up in the soul stone. However, Spiderman had managed to break off a piece of the stone, and ends up in an alternate dimension with superheroes he’s never heard of and ghosts in his head. (Peter Parker meets the Bats AU - 43 chapters)

Peter the Pizza Guy by Irisen - Dr. Strange’s spell has unforeseen consequences. Peter Parker, suddenly in a different universe, now must figure out how to survive in the most dangerous city in America - Gotham. (Peter Parker meets the Bats AU - 36 chapters)

In for a Pound by Cdelphiki - Damian Al Ghul-Wayne is given to his father as an infant. Dick Grayson is eleven. Bruce Wayne is out of his depth. What happens now? (Damian joins the family early AU - 6 works)

no grave could hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her) by loungemermaid - Finnick survives the mutts, but only just. Adjusting to a body missing large parts of itself and a pregnant wife, Finnick lives on. (Finnick Lives AU - 11 chapters)

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder by bellablue27 - Peeta and Katniss grow together after the war. Currently on hiatus but I'm holding out hope that one day it returns. (Post-Canon Fic - 17 chapters)

take these broken wings and learn to fly by fishingclocks - Dick Grayson loses his parents. Bruce Wayne can’t help but try to rescue the boy from himself. The Batman has a new target. (The Batman 2022 Post-Canon Fic - 17 chapters)

Minefield by coyote_nebula - The Bats love each other. They just have a hard time showing it. (The Waynes and their extended family go on connected adventures - 16 works)

Shutterbug by goldkirk - Tim Drake is good at what he does. He runs a blog, weaves his way unseen throughout Gotham, and he doesn’t need his parents. Unfortunately for him, his neighbors disagree. (AU where Jason lives and Tim can’t catch a break - 9 works)

Wayne Family Social Media AU by tiredofsatansbullshit - Everyone needs a good social media fic from time to time. The Bats, the Waynes, and various others have a very active online presence. (14 works)

A Nest We Can All Call Home by A03time - Dick, Jason, and Tim are orphans who found each other on the streets of Gotham. When Jason decided to steal from Batman of all people, everything changes. (The Robins Meet Before They Meet Bruce AU - 6 works)

How Dare The Robins Sing by CountDyscalculia - Tim Drake has severe dyscalculia. It doesn’t matter though, because Batman needs a Robin and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to get him one. (Tim Drake refuses to ask for help for currently 25 chapters)

Check My Vitals (and tell me I'm still alive) by scrappedyonder - Tim is a metahuman successfully keeping the secret from Batman, his mentor. That is until Red Hood nearly dies and Tim takes matters into his own hands. Now that Jason knows, it’s only a matter of time until Bruce knows as well. (Metahuman AU - 3 works)

straw-verse by deargalileo - Alfred makes a friend out of his young neighbor. Silly straws are heavily involved. (Tim joins the family early AU - 3 works)

buy back the secrets by sundiscus - Conner Kent doesn’t know Robin’s secret identity. Tim Drake does know Superboy’s secret identity, making it super awkward every time Superboy saves Tim Drake. (TimKon fic - 4 chapters)

what's past is prologue by Icestorm238 - Dick Grayson remembers an alternate life before most of its events happen. He uses this knowledge to do everything in his power to change fate. It’s not as easy as he thought it would be. (Canon Divergence AU - 5 works)

the unfridging of jessica more by winterfire22 - Jessica doesn’t die when the yellow-eyed demon comes after her. It changes things - drastically. (Canon Divergence AU - 3 works)

[homerjacksons]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by @giazzurra - thank you!

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)

Honestly I haven’t written anything in a while (so much for setting aside one morning a week for writing lmao) but here’s the last line I added to my latest WIP:

Reid felt his lips quirk up despite himself, but he said nothing, only watched as Jackson sighed and left the room.

I’m tagging: @astronautmike-dexter @shutterbug-12 @skatingthinandice @phdmama and 🤷‍♀️ anyone who wants to do this

[toiletghostie]

Was asked to join in with the fun by @veinspookiebear so here I am!!

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So I am a horrific fan fic writer. Not in a sense that I'm that bad at writing it's just I can never will myself to actually write :0 most of these are fan art files and notes for my au ideas!! Perhaps you'll stumble across a fic if your lucky

★ Link Click wips cus this show has me in a chokehold★

• A bittersweet night at the Premier Inn

• Elizabet elezibeath Elixbeth elizabeth

•more model x photographer AU

•shutterbug

•"Lu Guang how come you're always looking at your watch??"

★other fandoms ★

•Stay and Hold Me Close (VNC)

•Romance Novel on the Rooftop (VNC)

•in witch Hatsune Miku is in 1960's France (Dead Plate x Vocaloid)

•A Not so Normal Feeling (Dead Plate x Elevator Hitch)

•Royalty AU (Alien Stage)

I don't have anybody to tag so uhhhh..... Hiii

[bitmeddler]

Writing Wrap 2023:

Below is my Newt Geiszler / Hermann Gottlieb fanfic round-up for 2023. It summarizes all my Newmann fics published in 2023 as well as a preview of what’s to come in 2024!

2023 total published word count: 31,479

Chasing the Rabbit: 5,373 words, rated T At a crossroads regarding his own encrypted personnel file, Hermann must decide whether or not to confirm his long-held suspicions about an event in his past. A story of old wounds, new beginnings, drift compatibility and a shared history with Newton that goes deeper than either of them could have imagined.

Shutterbug: 10,872 words, rated E Post Operation Pitfall and part way through the Black Velvet Rabbits’ world tour, Newt and Hermann find themselves once again in Berlin where Newt jumps at the chance to fulfill a fantasy or two Hermann didn’t know he had. A sexy, standalone sequel to ‘Compositions’ involving a pair of black rabbit ears and a camera.

Something Borrowed: 13,172 words, rated T Newt and Hermann are asked to be in the bridal party for Tendo and Alison’s upcoming wedding alongside Mako and Raleigh. Between planning the stag do, setting up the wedding photoshoot and writing a best man speech, who’s got time to finally admit to your long-time lab partner how you really feel about them? A wedding-centric Newmann getting together story (side pairings: Tendo / Alison; Mako / Raleigh).

Strikethrough: 2,062 words, rated T When Hermann seeks his feedback on a print interview about their joint contribution to Operation Pitfall, Newt jumps at the chance to get the love confession from his labmate he’s been waiting on for years by writing it himself. A mixed media tale of an eager xenobiologist, a flustered mathematician and the very, very liberal AWESOME interview edits that finally take their relationship to the next level.

Total WIP word count: 78,000~ words and growing:

All of the below are works in progress and the word count will increase (especially the two AUs). My new year’s resolution for 2024 is to post the two one-shot WIPs and start releasing chapters for both longer AU fics, plus anything else that pops up!

Soon-to-be-released secret santa fic: word count, title and rating under wraps to keep it a secret... but it’ll be posted very soon and I’m very excited~

We Don’t Talk About the Bachelor Party: currently 8,000~ words, rated M A sequel to ‘Something Borrowed’ elaborating on the events of the infamous bachelor party night…

Hermann Gottlieb Consulting Detective: currently 62,000~ words, rated M Victorian-era AU, Sherlock Holmes pastiche: When Hermann Gottlieb, the world’s only consulting detective, receives a letter from American doctor Newton Geiszler, their correspondence sparks the joint investigation of a series of happenings that take them into the fog shrouded world of the capital’s criminal underbelly. A Pacific Rim adventure mystery set in the gas-lit streets of Sherlock Holmes’ Victorian London.

Nameless: currently 8,000~ words, rated M Historical + mythical creature / selkie AU: After a personal tragedy and irreparable fall-out with his family, Hermann Gottlieb leaves the comforts of his life in London to exile himself to a tiny town on the coast of Scotland. When he encounters a mysterious, green-eyed stranger without a name, he is soon drawn into a world of magic and legend where an underwater war for the fate of humanity is being waged between the selkie folk and beasts known only as the 'Deep Ones.'

[singing-circuitry]

The sound of a camera shutter snap made him jump slightly, and his attention shifted to Mimi, who was smiling brightly behind her large, sturdy camera. ”Had to get photographic proof of you out from behind a desk,“ she teased. Cy rolled his eyes, face heating up in embarrassment. He was used to Mimi's shutterbug tendencies, but he didn't like being the subject as much as he was. ”Warn me next time,“ he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

AKA- a real unedited image of Cy not reading a book or looking vaguely nervous while trying desperately to look cool and aloof!

i've had this sitting as a WIP for ages, i couldn't figure out how to draw a face at this angle... but @unluckyxse7enart helped me out so Finally i can post this "photograph" from a writing piece i did with these twins (linked above if you'd like to read uwu)

[sixclawsdragon]

A little write-up of my 2024 ao3 year in review

I participated in whumptober for the first time this year and completed all 31 days! 2024 was also the 10th anniversary of the first fic I ever posted (back on fanfiction dot net).

The big stats:

Words posted: 186,738 (my goal was to hit 100k)

Works posted: 66

Hits: 72,954

Kudos: 7,955

Comment threads: 233 (I loved getting all the comment emails during and after October when I started writing and posting a lot more frequently ❤️)

Bookmarks: 1,532

I saw someone else do most used tag stats, so here are some for me!

Top 3 fandoms:

Batman (All Media Types) - 40 works (I got really into Batman this year and it’s totally @goldkirk ‘s fault for updating the Shutterbug series and making me want to go back and reread it, thank you Katie ❤️)

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure - 21 works

Detective Conan - 4 works (sorry DCMK friends)

Top 5 characters:

Tim Drake - 31 works

Bruce Wayne - 24 works

Dick Grayson - 19 works

Jason Todd - 17 works

Reader - 14 works (strange that this doesn’t match the 15 tagged reader-insert? Maybe I forgot to use the character tag once)

Top 3 relationships:

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne - 14 works

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson - 9 works

Tim Drake & Jason Todd - 9 works

Top 5 additional tags:

Whumptober 2024 - 28 works (it should be 31 but I could only find one in my whumptober series that I had forgotten to add the tag to, so ???)

Pov second person - 15 works (only used with the reader-insert tag so technically these two are just duplicates)

Reader-insert - 15 works

Pov Tim Drake - 14 works

Tim Drake is Robin - 9 works

I have a lot of Batman wips and ideas for 2025, so I’ll likely be focusing mainly on that until something new grabs 99% of my attention and inspiration (as it does).

[crosswise]

▸ about;

hello! my name is Billie Delacroix, also known as crosswise. I'm in my early thirties, a college student, and a writer. I live in the midwest with my family and my cat, I'm addicted to caffeine, and I don't have enough hours in the day to write. I also have chronic pain and adhd. I'm also non-binary, and my pronouns are they/them.

My favorite genres to write are romance, fantasy, and science fiction. I also dabble in writing fanfiction, especially when I have writer's block with my original work.

I hope to find more writers on tumblr to chat with and even more stories to read, as well as accountability for my own writing.

my stories often involve 18+ content. please be an adult to follow and/or interact.

▸ links;

about page // wips // twitter // wattpad // archive of our own // spotify

▸ works in progress;

summaries under the cut.

cybersight.

Amelise Hale is no one special. She's just another human pipe rat — small, slim, and able to slip in and out of the ducts of Yggdrasil, the massive space station she calls home. It's dirty work, but vital, and more importantly, it gets her three meals a day and a warm place to sleep.

But when she stumbles upon a mysterious server room in the middle of Yggdrasil, hidden away for centuries, she discovers an Artificial Intelligence, LOKI, which has been dormant for years. AI are commonplace, so she thinks nothing of stealing it for herself and installing it on her own hardware.

But LOKI is nothing like the shackled, limited AI she has encountered before. He is fully sentient and autonomous — and he will have his vengeance.

Amelise soon finds herself entangled in a dark, ancient conspiracy, with LOKI as her only ally.

lunar shadow.

Over a hundred years into the future, vampires have taken over the earth. With ever changing temperatures and darkening skies, they're the only ones who are thriving in this new world. In their high-tech cities, they keep humans as servants and blood bags.

Maire has never set foot in one of the vampiric cities, and she would rather die than serve a vampire. Instead, she lives free and wild, in a walled settlement along with her werewolf partner, Oisin. Together, they guard the city and hunt the vampires who dare to venture too close.

But when they find a lone vampire, injured and alone and begging for mercy, they can't bring themselves to kill it.

Him.

Rhazyn.

He tells a tale of unrest and rebellion, so in exchange for information, they allow him to live. And with Rhazyn, they discover a whole new world.

the shutterbug and the ceo.

Ella Monroe has been stuck working at her controlling stepmother's photography studio for the past five years, unable to pursue her passion. So when she's sent to photograph Kaidan Holloway at his new headquarters, she doesn't expect much. She's heard stories about the CEO and his infamous temper, not to mention his impatience with photographers.

She certainly doesn't expect to find him so attractive. Or for his gaze to keep meeting hers. Or for him to give her his card.

Kaidan, for his part, is enchanted by this photographer, something he never thought would happen. He offers her his personal number, not really expecting her to call him.

But Ella sees it as her chance to escape her oppressive family, a client of her own to start her own studio.

When she calls him back, though, Kaidan assumes it's for the date he offered her. Desperate, and hoping she can convince him to hire her during dinner, she agrees.

[aceofshitposts]

got tagged by @chibinightowl to post the first line of my current wip(s)!

I'll go aheeaaad and taggg @yasmindifference and @heybabybird cuz I always wanna see what they're up to 😘

gonna post a couple cuz that's more fun ~

It starts, as all things in Tim's life, with a phone call from his parents.

-

Jason liked his job. Really, he did. There was comfort in gentle routine, which the coffee shop provided in spades.

-

The trek to Wizard Drake’s abode was a lot longer than Jason had first anticipated.

-

When it happens it’s like the world has flipped upside down; like every colour in the usually grey and kind of dreary cave has turned pastel and nobody but Jason has noticed.

-

As far as villain debuts go, Cupid is pretty tame. Jason even feels a little sorry for the guy having the misfortune of running into Black Bat first and foremost; ill prepared for Cass' brutal efficiency.

[txemrn]

Detour

Summary: After a nasty run-in with the press, the Daltons spend the day at the twins' soccer tournament; however, fate has a plan of its own.

Word Count: ~1475

Warnings: adult themes; light angst; brief language

A/N: I completely forgot about this fic until we went through our WIPs last week, and I honestly can't remember why I never posted this! I haven't written/released anything TNA in a long time, so this feels good! @sfb123 thank you for helping me with the finishing touches! And @charlotteg234 and @kat-tia801, do y'all even remember this fic? Y'all pre-read it for me last year! lol So ... THANKS! All spelling and grammar mistakes are my own, so please forgive me. All characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

~🖤~

Frantically packing the stack of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with the freshly diced carrot sticks, she quickly taps on her phone for the time--and to see if Sam was leaving the office anytime soon.  “Mickey! Mason!” She calls out through the penthouse. “We’re going to be late for the first heat of your tournament--”

“Mommy?”

Nearly tripping over her youngest son Matthew, the expectant mom stops to admire the three-year-old’s latest playdough creation. “That looks so good, Matty!" She croons, rubbing his back. "Now put that away for Mommy and wash your hands.”

Her phone begins to ring, jolting her with excitement that maybe her husband was finally tearing away from work. Unfortunately, the name on the screen makes her face drop.  “Michael Weston! Mason Warner! Let’s go--” She hits the green button to answer the call with a sardonic, syrupy-sweet voice. “Hi, Vivian, have you left yet?”

“Yes, dear. We should be at the fields--” she begins talking to someone else in the car,“--less than an hour.”

“Sounds perfect--”

“Sam mentioned you may need some help--” the mother-in-law interrupts. “I can have Mason stop by and--”

“No!” She accidentally shouts, but quickly corrects herself. “I mean, no, ma’am. Thank you for the generous offer, but… no.” The mention of her father-in-law makes her stomach uneasy, especially after her husband’s confession that Mason offered Sam the company in exchange for a divorce from her. “We’ll see you two at the soccer fields.”

With a sigh of relief, she hangs up the phone before gathering her picnic basket and beach tote. As she prepares to call for her eight-year-old twins one more time, they suddenly barrel into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Mom,” Mason sweetly apologizes, grabbing a camping chair. “I had a knot in my cleat.”

“But, we got it out,” Mickey proudly chimes in, sliding a Nike knapsack on his back.

“Okay, perfect,” she smiles brightly, guiding all the boys towards the elevator doors. “Mouthguards?”

“Check,” Mickey chuckles.

“Water bottles?”

Mickey takes an obnoxious swig from his chilled water as Mason answers. “Yes, Mom, we’ve got everything.”

She kisses the tops of their heads, ruffling through their soft chestnut waves with her fingers. “You two are growing up too fast. Soon, you won’t even need me--”

“That’s not true,” Mason pipes up.

“Mom, we will always need you,” Mickey wraps an arm around his mom’s shoulder. “Besides,” he lowers his voice, “Dad’s cooking is pretty awful in comparison.” 

As they all share a chuckle, they head down to their private car, escorted by building security and Carter, their personal driver. But, the moment the family exited the building, they are blinded by flashes of light from shutterbugs and reporters with microphones. 

“Mom, I’m scared!” Matthew cries as she hoists him onto her hip, the men taking her bags and folding chairs. She grips tightly to the older boys, shuffling them quickly into the car.

“Mrs. Dalton! Mrs. Dalton! Over here!"

“Damnit,” she scoffs to herself, buckling up the boys. “It’s okay, guys. Don’t look out the window--” she is quickly interrupted by the brush of a hand on her backside.  She abruptly swings around, her open hand colliding with a reporter's cheek.

"Fuck!" He grips his face. "You're gonna be sorry for that, princess--"

"You assaulted me, asshole--" she swivels around, ensuring their belongings are tucked away before she steps into the vehicle.

"Oh! Such a picture of Dalton perfection!" He spits at her. "Such a great example for your kids. Are you sure you can handle one more?"

As she carefully climbs into the sedan, she holds her arm out the window, her middle finger extended as they finally drive off down the street.

"You okay, Mom?" Mason quietly breaks the tension inside the cab.

Offering a cordial smile, she combs a few tresses behind his ear, stroking his cheeks with her thumb. "I should be asking you that," she titters into a sigh. She squeezes Mickey's knee endearingly. "Never, ever forget how much I love you boys--" 

"And baby Maggie!" Matthew shouts proudly, placing his chubby hands on his mother's growing bump. 

She hugs her arm around Matthew before leaning back. "That's right, Bubba," she slowly exhales in relief. "And Maggie, too." She closes her eyes, relishing the innocence of her boys' chatter. As they draw closer to the soccer fields and closer to her in-laws, a pit grows in her stomach, knowing that her short dealings with the paparazzi will cost her.

Once at the soccer fields, the boys are registered with their team for the day-long tournament.  Together, they set up a tent with their fold-out camping chairs and picnic blankets.  Sunscreen and bug repellant are carefully applied to each of the boys. As their mother sends them out into their first game, she lays down Matthew with a juice box, hoping that he will rest in order to survive the day without any meltdowns.  

She picks up her phone, but of course, there are no alerts from her husband. Putting her phone facedown, she readjusts her short bob into a messy bun before reapplying her Chanel sunglasses. As she begins to sip on an apple juice, a shadow is cast over her body.

“You flicked them off?”

She smirks to herself as she continues to watch the game.

“Baby,” Sam steps behind her chair, pressing his lips into her temple, “did you seriously--?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbles.

“Well, my folks want to talk about it,” he sits down on the blanket next to his resting son, letting out a deep sigh. “Again.”

She pushes her sunglasses onto her head. “What was I supposed to do, baby--?”

“You don’t do anything--you don’t say anything!” He rubs his hands down his face. “Is it that hard for you just to keep your mouth shut?”

“Samuel! He touched me--that’s assault!”

“Are you sure you didn’t--?”

“Of course,” she throws up her hands, interrupting her husband. “It’s my fault.” She stands up, adjusting her sunglasses on her face. “Stop pinning this on me.”

As she begins to take off to get some fresh air, Sam quickly stands up, grabbing her wrist to pull her back to himself. He wraps his strong, comforting arms around her, rocking her back and forth. “Baby, talk to me,” he whispers against her ear.

“I don’t think you know what it’s like to always be under fire with these guys--”

“Um, hello? They are trying to slander my name--”

“--by insulting my character, Sam! By insulting what I’m wearing, what I’m eating, what I feed the boys,” she wipes away a wayward tear. “They took a cheap shot at me today, questioning my capabilities as a mother--”

“Their opinion shouldn’t matter. They don’t even know you.”

“I know, but your parents--”

“Baby,” he silences her, giving her a crooked smile, “they don’t know the real you. The way I know you.” 

“They seem to only care about the press--”

“I know, I know.” He tightens his embrace around his wife, pressing his lips against her forehead. “It’s business. It’s the image of the business. And it’s not fair.” He pulls off her sunglasses, dabbing at her wet eyes. “But I know you are remarkable,” he kisses the tip of her nose, making her wince into a smile. “And you’re the only one who can take my breath away--”

“Heads up!”

Suddenly, a soccer ball flies over the young Daltons’ heads, quickly heading towards a duck pond. Sam takes off, chasing after the ball, hoping to stop it before it hits the water. But, luckily, someone else is there to stop it for him.

“Oh, God, thank you so--” he freezes as a young, petite woman with stormy blue eyes and long almond waves steps forward, offering him the soccer ball.

“Mr. Dalton?”

“Yeah, um,” he clears his throat, shaking the shocked look from his face. “I’m sorry, um,” he titters awkwardly, “do I know you?”

“Oh!” She giggles, offering a bright smile. “I know it must be hard keeping up with all of your employees.  My name is Brynn. Brynn Schuyler. I work in your laboratory department--”

“With Evan, right!” He blushes, running his fingers through his hair. “Well, it’s wonderful meeting another beautiful face– I mean, face… um, I mean, meeting another  employee from Dalton--”

“Sam?” The all-too-familiar voice of his wife startles him from behind as she gently caresses his lower back. Sam quickly pulls her forward, draping his arm around her shoulders. Though she smiles kindly, her chocolate brown eyes narrow in on the young coed.

“Oh, this is Brynn,” he nervously gestures for the women to meet with a chuckle, “Brynn Schuyler from the lab. And this is my... um, this is…”

“Addison.” Mrs. Dalton raises an irritated eyebrow, sticking out her hand for a cordial hand-shake. “His wife.”

~🖤~

A/N 2: If you're new here, hi! Just in case you are wondering what just happened, my MC's name is Brynn Schuyler, and I decided to write this one-shot kinda like a "what if" type situation... what if the subway accident never happened? Were Sam and Brynn still destined to meet? Here's how it might've happened...

~🖤~

Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TNA

@bisexualdisasteracd @choices-addict @rookiemartin

@choicesficwriterscreations @thenannyaffair-fanfics

[scienceoftheidiot]

Heads Up, Seven Up / WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @residentdormouse thank you 🥰🥰 to share 7 paragraph breaks (I'm copying you 😝) of a WIP.

So here is.... Yet another WIP. You don't want to live in my brain. I'm not sure I really want to (but eh I'm having fun so). This one doesn't have a name yet and is focused on... Hayate bullying Roy 😅

Black Hayate was looking at him from the common room, mischief in his brown eyes, tail wagging, ears flat on the head. The dog was holding his gloves in his mouth, teeth planted in and drooling over them. Both gloves. The pair. The new ones.

"Hayate! Give!"

The dog immediately jumped and ran away from the door.

"Did – has he been sent by Hawkeye?" Roy asked, barging in the common room.

"No sir," Fuery replied with a desolate face. "He stayed on his mat all morning, he just got up. In fact, I huh. It looks like he's been chewing on them for a while, now. Sir."

So the gloves HAD been on the ground with his jacket. And at one time, probably when he got out to fetch coffee with the others, Hayate had sneaked into his office and decided to take his gloves from his pocket to use them as chew toys.

"He probably understood the word "gloves" from you. Hayate's very smart." Fuery smiled, apologetically.

Roy didn't feel like smiling.

He tried to approach the dog carefully, remembering the disaster of a month prior, chasing after Hayate in the mud.

I still need to add one/maybe two small parts and this work will be complete 😁

I tag @heirsoflilith @qs63 @riotbrrrd @dairogo @goneadrift @musing-and-music @shutterbug-12 and keep this as open tag, show me what you're working on !

[604to647]

WIP Wednesday Any Day

Hello darlings! Thank you for the tags @evolnoomym @sawymredfox @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 and everyone who has tagged me the last few weeks - I genuinely love seeing what your beautiful creative brains are up to 🥹

I want to express my gratitude for the kind reception Without Chains has received - I know OC Readers are not the most popular, but to have a Chinese OC Reader, especially, be read means a great deal to me personally. And because Emily cannot leave well enough alone, I'm working on a continuation of Pero and Xiǎo Huā's story:

Hopefully will finish soon so I can post Parts 2 & 3 together 😊

Also got started on The Rockford Portfolio instalment for @baronessvonglitter's Noun-iversary creative challenge. It will be entitled, Nice and Slow (18+ content below the cut; MDNI pls):

After a satiating dinner, you ride him nice and slow in front of the fire.  The warmth of the flames licks at your naked body, falling and rising while Tim sucks dark purple marks into the soft swells of your breasts.

Nice and Slow serves as a follow-up to another Tim and Shutterbug story, Wife Material, so I have to finish that first:

The hospital emergency waiting room is buzzing and chaotic, but you’re oblivious to it all as you race through to the reception desk – all you can focus on is those three little words that have been playing on a loop in your head ever since Detective Arnold Calloway called:

“Tim’s been shot.”

NPT to some lovelies: @aurorawritestoescape @ace-turned-confused @thedilfdiaries @inept-the-magnificent @letsgobarbs

[casadegatos]

Tagged by the always effervescent @willasferreyra

Share your two favorite lines, verses, paragraphs… whatever, of some things you’ve written. It can be a WIP or something you’ve already posted. Go!

First is a whole poem, I just went on a whole journey writing it for someone and I ended up loving it for so many reasons:

Second is from a Ripper Street fic ("Thoughts That Breathe, Words That Burn") is poetry centric and it's something that felt so right and funny but also romantic and realistic. It's one of those things that just wrote itself practically and I just smiled like an idiot right after I wrote it.

If you're game, I'm tagging @100dabbo @red-0ak-tree @shutterbug-12 @finitevariety

[internalsealpanic]

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank You so much to @dustorange (Wuv you dusty)

This is gonna be long as hell so undercut.

Damian Thingy parts 1 and 2

I Don’t Know What to Call This Parts 1 and 2

I’ll be Brief

All Good Things are Found

The Night is Young Part 1 and 2

Sugar and Spice

Duck, Duck- Wait, Is That Actually a Duck?

Gladiator

Love Potion

Gray

Jeepers, That’s Creepy

Prequel to Center of Attention

Death Cannot Take You

Hell Hounds Abound

Shared Property

Teach Me

Icing

Sociology for the Socially Inept

Shutterbug

Core Four/ Reader

Nothing Could Be Worse

We All Fall Gracefully into Midnight

These are the ones with actual sentences. Not including the outlines or the ideas. 

(CAN YOU TELL I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL?)

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @multifandomgirl-us, @birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders ,  @arestorationofbalance ,   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red, @littleredwing89, @pricetagofficial, @lostoctaviaaugusta