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eveandtheturtles · 10 months

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Started with a Kiss - Chapter 10: Where do we stand?

Summary: Best Friend Talk and a trip to the lab.

Ship: Donnie x Kara (OC)

Rating: PG-13 so far

Tags for: @madammuffins @tinkabelle19 @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @sharpwindow @m1dnyt3-w0lf @pheradream-15 @pheradream-15 @dilucsflame33 @scholastic-dragon

A/N: Beta Read by the one and only @thoughtfulraven Lemme know if anyone wants to be removed from the tag list or added! Hope you enjoy this, comments bring me so much joy lol As always crossposted on AO3. Masterlist of chapters is pinned on top of the blog!

When Cheryl came to visit Kara she didn't expect to be tackled and dragged away to the more private section in the lair. It was actually Donnie's "snack cave" by the garage. It had a fridge, heaps of random junk shoved on multiple shelves, and a couch. It was also where April would hide her snacks as well. The only place Mikey was too afraid to snoop.

Kara dropped the bomb.

Cheryl needed a moment. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped a little. <ALMOST? Girl, you can’t just drop things like- I thought you wouldn’t- WHAT?!>

Kara needed to pace for a moment, to gather her thoughts. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her face before she flopped down on the sofa next to Cheryl.

<Okay, okay, just- run me through this slowly. First, you and Donnie - yay or nay?> Cheryl straightened up. <Wait, is this why you wanted me to grab the wine on my way here?>

Kara nodded. <Did you get it?>

<You know I did,> Cheryl said then reached into her bag and pulled out two bottles of red wine. <Glasses?>

<Bottle is good enough.> Kara snatched one. <This is a bottle for each conversation.>

They grabbed a corkscrew and were ready to go.

<Alright, start from the top,> Cheryl said after they had the first swig.

Kara took another one before she started sharing. <Well, you know I told Donnie about Ryan-,>

<Yes, you were hyperventilating about this to me on that night, I remember,> Cheryl nodded, interrupting Kara. <Go on.>

<So, I just, you know, didn’t know if he looked at me any different. I don’t want people’s pity. God I couldn’t look at him, I was freaking out.> Another swig.

<Slow down or you’ll get smashed before we get to the good stuff.> Cheryl reached her hand out to Kara’s bottle, ready to take it away for now.

<Right, sorry.> Kara let out a breath, she was holding. <Anyway, so Donnie got shot with the nanites, so I made an EMP, and saved his life, yeah?>

<Yes,> Cheryl knew this stuff so far but apparently Kara needed to organize things in her brain first.

<So… What you don’t know he kinda told me something after he first came to. He was tripping balls after the amount of morphine we pumped into him. But-,>

<What did he say?> Cheryl straightened up. Kara left that bit out the last time they talked.

<Well, one he doesn’t trust me as far as he can throw me - can’t blame him though,> Kara grimaced and reached for the bottle again. <But he does want to make out with me.>

Cheryl snorted the wine as she was mid-swig. <What?>

Kara rolled her eyes and took another swig. <Then HE started avoiding me, which I’m pretty sure meant he remembered everything. I took pity on him and didn’t bring it up, so we got on talking terms again.>

<That’s good,> Cheryl nodded.

<And yesterday! We were like working together! You know! And I thought: I might as well get everything straight, yeah? So I told him I won’t backstab them and- I don’t know!> During the whole speech she got up from the sofa, pacing around, stopping for each sentence then back to making a trail on the already worn-out carpet.

<Okay?> Cheryl was getting confused about where all that was going.

<He leaned to kiss me! We were holding hands!> Kara flopped down on the sofa again. She grabbed the bottle and drank deeply. <We didn’t kiss because Raph came in to get us for dinner.> She held the bottle in her hands, staring ahead of herself, head empty, until: <Do you think he has brain damage? Should I do an MRI on him? I could probably download some schematics, and build the machine up to his specs… Or maybe it’s me. The kidnappers did toss me around.>

Cheryl recognized Kara rambling. She quickly waved a hand in front of her face.

<Slow down. Nobody is having brain damage,> Cheryl tried to calm her down. <Just breathe. You’re both just experiencing a very common symptom of joined insanity called a crush.>

Kara looked at her friend like she was completely deranged. she paused and looked horrified at Cheryl. <Oh god.>

Cheryl clinked her bottle against Kara’s. <Congrats on having feelings.>

Kara rubbed her face and stretched her skin to the sides, processing the new discovery. <That can’t be happening.>

<But what if I’m wrong! What if something happens-!> Kara’s breathing was quickening. The multiple ‘worst case scenarios’ began to zip through her mind like frames in a movie projector.

Cheryl quickly got up from her spot on the sofa and snapped her fingers in front of Kara’s face. <Hey, look at me. You’re okay. Nothing happened yet. One step at a time okay?>

<Cheryl, he knows-,> Kara started but Cheryl gently took her hands in hers and lowered them.

Kara shook her head.

<Then that’s a good thing! And look on the bright side - he could throw you pretty damn far if he tried> Cheryl joked a little. Kara looked at her confused for a moment, then smacked her with a pillow.

<Thanks.> She glared at her bitterly.

<That’s what friends are for,> Cheryl replied with a wink.

Kara snorted and then hugged Cheryl tightly. Cheryl returned the hug gratefully, taking it as a good sign. Her friend hadn’t dated seriously ever since The Incident. Which she couldn’t and wouldn’t blame Kara for. That shit messed up a lot of the already limited trust her short friend had for other people. This would be a big step if it worked out in the first place.

They parted finally and Cheryl noted the redness in her friend’s eyes. She smiled. Silly Kara.

<When you two do kiss though, I need to be the first one notified,> Cheryl stated firmly, sitting back on the sofa.

Cheryl noted the panicked look on Kara’s face. She very slowly signed: <Well….> spreading her arms wide.

<What?> Cheryl took a swing from her bottle, watching Kara from the corner of her eyes.

The wine spray that happened would definitely have a 10/10 rating if wine spitting was a competition.

<WHAT?! AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?>

The two paused, stared at each other then broke into uncontrollable laughter.

<Is there anything else I should know?> Cheryl asked once they calmed down enough.

<He’s Moira.> Kara informed her.

<Of course he is, Jesus Fucking Christ,> Cheryl snorted. The wine was definitely getting to her. <Any other secrets?>

<Well…> Kara paused for a moment and Cheryl lowered the bottle immediately frowning. Then she noticed the way her friend's lips were quivering at the corners.

<You're a dick,> she laughed and threw a pillow at Kara.

The short woman caught it, giggling.

<I'm sorry.> She grinned.

<How do I even put up with you?> Cheryl rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. But right after that, she smiled. <So wanna hear some university gossip and finish the wine?> She asked.

<Sure, sounds good.> Kara agreed, making herself more comfortable on the couch.

Cheryl smiled. To be honest she had a bit of her own secret but that one was more of a surprise. She needed to talk to the turtles and Splinter about it first though.

The two passed out on the couch much later with empty bottles on the floor. Later, Donnie came to investigate. He snorted seeing Kara sprawled on the low table, laying on her back, mouth open and snoring. He shook his head. That couldn't be comfortable.

Cheryl was in a much better position, laying on her stomach and snuggling a pillow.

Donnie sighed and decided to move Kara somewhere nicer. Like a bed. When he leaned down and carefully moved his arms under her to pick her up in a bridal carry Kara briefly woke up. She noted the purple mask and her mouth moved to the softer skin just under his jaw, sucking on it lightly.

Immediately, Donnie dropped her, jumping away as if she was radioactive. Alright. She can stay right there. He quickly left the nook. Just to return five minutes later with two blankets which he threw over the drunk women. And slid a pillow under Kara's head as gently as he could from an arm distance.

There. He was guilt free.

The next day between her and Donnie were… jumpy to say the least. She wasn't exactly sure but he would always put some sort of distance between them. Was it really reasonable to behave like that over a kiss that didn't even happen?

<Where is Leo?> She asked, annoyed by the cold shoulder Donnie was giving her.

"He's not in his room?" Raph looked up at her from his knitting.

She shook her head. <He kind of left late afternoon yesterday, right?>

Raph set down the needles and yarn. <Donnie should have a tracker on him.> He got up from the sofa and went to Donnie's control center. <Why do you want to talk to Leo?>

<Humans need to see the sun sometimes. I have been stuck here for too long. Plus, you guys took care of Big Boss or at least most of his operations, which by the way, you’re welcome.> She argued.

<None taken.> While Raph didn't regret smashing the Kraang serum, there were days when he wanted nothing more than to be able to just take a walk down the street without causing a scene. He could imagine being stuck in the sewers wasn't ideal for her.

Raph headed to Donnie. Over 24 hours with no sign from Leo was bad.

"Donnie, you got the most eyes on all of us. Do you know where Leo is?" He stood behind Donnie's chair.

Donnie looked to Kara who merely stood by, curious about the whole situation. "Leo's fine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raph narrowed his eyes.

"What you heard. I called him last night. He's fine," the purple terrapin reassured his elder brother.

"Oh so we're too good to know where Fearless is?" Raph growled.

"Raph-"

"No, shut the hell up," Raph stomped about. "When I do it, he rides my ass for weeks! But when he does-!" He was going into a full-on rant.

"He's at his girlfriend's place," Donnie blurted out, tired of Raph's assumptions and the ever-present rivalry.

"What?"

"Yeah. There's… I don't know, things that happened," Donnie sighed. "Just let him come to us later, okay?"

Raph grunted noncommittally. He and Donnie had a brief staring context, which surprisingly the red turtle lost.

This whole 'Leo dating someone' was unexpected. They knew nothing about this girl. Well, they assumed some things, like they weren't blind and Leo couldn't lie for shit. Of course, no direct questions were ever asked.

Too ticked off to argue, Raph headed to the gym to work his thoughts out. He was definitely going to take pleasure in interrogating Leo and later teasing him as much as possible. For now, he was still annoyed.

When he left Kara was still there. She looked at Donnie and bit her lower lip. She swayed on the balls of her feet.

<I'll go work on the rig,> she told Donnie.

Donnie was about to respond but she turned her back to him. Donnie inhaled deeply and folded his hands back on the desk.

He desperately wanted to talk about the almost-kiss situation. And maybe her drunken stunt. This whole "will we/won't we" situation was driving him up the wall.

But he was still terrified. Not because of her past but just… Kara was human. A human who was beautiful. Sassy, flirty, smart. She could have anyone she wanted. What the fuck could he offer her in terms of a relationship? He couldn't go anywhere she could. There was that little project of theirs but will it even work? When will it work? What if she goes back topside and just… forgets about them? He wouldn't blame her. And there was also the issue of her ex still being out there. Hardly a moment to start new relationships, he argued at himself.

There were so many concerns and he didn't know what possessed him to even consider kissing her back then. He just wanted to apologize and… forget it ever happened.

<This is stupid.> Kara suddenly barged in again.

He blinked, taken by surprise. <What is?>

<This! Us! It’s like-!> She moved her hands quickly, huffing and puffing with annoyance. <We keep going back and forth between friends and smooch partners like what the fuck is wrong with us?!> She glared at him.

<I’m sor-,> he started but she then slapped his hand stopping him.

<No! None of that! I’m tired of walking on eggshells every time one of us trips over the other,> she continued so he just sat there listening.

She groaned and stomped her feet. <I have no idea! I- I don’t feel it would be fair to you because I can’t, I can’t be with someone right now. I want to and god, I’d love this to be you. Can we just… can we just be close? Friends but… more than? Without the kissing parts? Just hang out and be…> She noticed her vision was getting blurry. Oh god, she was going to cry. No! None of that! She blinked quickly and wiped her eyes.

Donnie pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging for dear life. April was right, they needed space to gain perspective. Kara needed to return topside.

Kara sighed. This really wasn’t fair. She wanted to cling to him, let him make her feel safe. But how much of this was just her survival instincts, how much of it was just cabin fever? She pulled back. Cheryl was right, one step at a time, or she’d go crazy.

<When Leo gets back…> She signed slowly.

<We’ll get you upstairs,> Donnie agreed.

She nodded. He understood her so well.

Yes, their big project. They were progressing so fast on it. <Well…> He looked behind her. Raph would definitely not say a word. Mikey might hardly notice them gone and he doubted Splinter would do anything either…. He checked the clock. It wasn’t that far from sunset. He honestly doubted Leo would come home straight away.

Kara arched her eyebrow seeing Donnie’s brain cogs and wheels working. She grinned. <Prison break?> She asked.

He looked at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. <Prison break.>

Donnie always wanted to go to school. To university. To study and learn. Unfortunately being a turtle mutant didn't exactly look the best on the application.

<Ok, I disabled the cameras. We can move in.>

He and Kara were on top of the university's building. Because of the robbery Kara had had her building pass stolen but thankfully to Donnie it wasn't that much of a problem. In no time he made her a brand new one. Wasn't he the best? Now they used the card to sneak inside.

Dodging the security guards made her feel like in a spy movie. Or like she was 10 again playing hide and seek. There was about the same amount of giggling. With a lot of fancy acrobatics from Donnie they finally reached the lab.

The place was enormous. The machinery around, workstations with microscopes, the whiteboards with schematics… Kara looked at Donnie who seemed to be frozen in place, slack jawed and eyes wide. Then he swallowed. His eyes darted between her and the space. He squeezed his bō staff tighter and shuffled his feet in.

She grinned. She could tell exactly what he wanted to do.

<Do you want a tour?> She asked, knowing the answer.

<Of course, just, give me a second.> She dove to the side and to the closet. There was no lab coat that would fit him but maybe…

She sighed and gave up. <Just don't touch the stations, ok?> She gave him a stern look. She herself had her own lab coat on. Her locs tied up with a band she always had in her coat's pocket and a pair of safety goggles and gloves. Now he was looking at her the way he stared at the lab.

Kara snorted and shook her head. He was too cute.

<Come on.> She gestured for him to follow her.

Donnie's head was going everywhere and as they walked Kara had to pull him away from multiple stations and slap his hands from trying to fix some mistakes other scientists and students did on their boards.

<Let them find out on their own!> She scolded him.

<But…>

<No!>

She had to push him to move on. She dragged him to her own section.

<Here, you can mess around with my stuff,> she told him. She showed him the calculations she had done before leaving for California… almost two months ago. Wow, time flies. It didn't seem like anyone had changed anything on it. Good.

<Is this related to the microchip?> He asked, approaching it closer.

<Yep.> She handed him a white marker.

His fingers itched as he studied the equations. She also supplied him with schematics. They were lost for hours. They stood close to each other, minds focused on the work. They both would steal a glance at the other, consumed by the task at hand.

At one point their hands brushed over each other and somehow they just held together for a moment.

Suddenly Kara's phone vibrated. It was nearing 10pm. They really have lost track of time. Kara checked the messages.

[🍒] You need to get back to the lair.

[Karfuffle] I took Donnie to the labs. We'll be back in an hour.

[🍒] K.

"K."? What sort of trouble did she get herself into this time? She wasn't alone. They, sort of, told Raph they were going out.

Donnie looked at her waiting for information.

<Alright.>

They quickly finished up at the lab, grabbing what they could and left. All the way she racked her brains up for a possible reason why she and Donnie could be in trouble.

They entered the lair, ready to defend themselves against a lecture from Leo.

"We're back!" Donnie called to give everyone heads up.

What greeted them was everyone sitting around the kitchen table. But what drew her attention was the new person sitting at the center.

She froze, her eyes growing big and she gripped Donnie's wrist. Something cold dropped into her stomach.

<Seth?>

#tmnt 2016 #eve scribbles #bayverse turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfiction #donnie x oc #tmnt donatello x oc #bayverse donnie

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blackbrightweek · 11 months

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Schedule and Frequently Asked Questions

◆ May 26 - June 8: Prompt Submissions Open

◆ June 10 - 16: Prompt Voting Period

◆ June 18: Prompt List Reveal

◆ July 17 - 23: Blackbright Week

◆ July 24 - August 6: Late Submission Period

FAQ after the cut!

◆ How do I participate?

Once the event starts, tag your posts with #blackbrightweek or @blackbrightweek so the mods can see them and reblog them here! There is also be an Archive of Our Own collection here for writers to submit to.

◆ What kinds of fanworks can I make for the event?

Anything and everything! Fanart, fanfiction, edits, headcanons, playlists-- all are allowed and encouraged. We're excited to see what everyone comes up with!

◆ What platforms will Blackbright week be running on?

Tumblr (@blackbrightweek), Twitter (@blackbrightweek), and Archive of Our Own (collection here)

◆ Do I have to make something for every day?

Nope! Feel free to participate as much or as little as you'd like.

◆ Do I have to follow the prompts?

Also nope! They're provided as a fun way to help spark creativity, but if you decide you'd like to try out a different Blackbright idea that doesn't fit a prompt, we'd still love to see and share it anyway.

◆ Are late submissions allowed?

Yes they are! We will continue to monitor the #blackbrightweek tag and reblog entries for two weeks after the event closes.

◆ Can I include other characters in my pieces, too?

Absolutely! But the focus should be on Simon Blackquill and Bobby Fulbright's relationship, however you envision it.

◆ Is this a Phantomquill event, too?

No, this one is for Blackbright, specifically. You're welcome to submit a piece that features the Phantom, same as any character, but for this event the focus should be on Blackquill and the real Detective Fulbright.

◆ Are explicit/NSFW works allowed?

While you're welcome to create any works you wish, we've decided that this blog (and the associated Twitter and AO3 pages) will only be sharing works rated up to PG-13. We also ask that participants tag any potentially triggering or sensitive pieces appropriately, according to the regular procedures of whichever site they are hosted on.

◆ Can I submit a prompt for Blackbright week?

Yes you can! But not just yet-- we'll be opening prompt submissions on May 26th. So watch this space!

◆ I'm so excited! I just can't wait!

Neither can we! In the meantime, we're going to be using this space to share some of the incredible pieces participants made for the previous Blackbright week-- as well as a few small surprises, too! 😉

Thanks for reading! And if you have any other questions or would like any clarification, feel free to DM the mods here or drop us an ask!

#ace attorney #blackbright #simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #dual destinies #blackbright week

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muthaz-rapapa · 4 months

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I didn't follow Otonapre too much up until the last three episodes, but your overview on it was a joy to read. 🥰 Also thank you for being supportive about Nozomi and Coco getting married unlike those ungrateful fans on Twitter (I will still name it as such and not by its current name please and thank you) They did nothing but call their romance gross, go extreme raeg mode anytime they make 🥺😢 faces at each other and name Coco strong derogatory words.

Also knowing you, you're going to love the Otona Maho Girls Precure sequel up to 11!

My MahoGirls comrade~! *hugs* Happy New Year! 🥹

It's always so nice to see a message from you in my inbox (along with that icon of Nao, hi Nao-chan~💚).

Thank you for taking time to read my post 🥰

And god, y'know as person who's cut off almost all their social media recently (I really only login for like 5 minutes a day to check on a few official accounts, merchandise announcements, keep up with certain news and to blog occasionally), I'd like to suggest limiting your exposure to these toxic platforms for the sake of your sanity.

Especially Twitter (who are we kidding? it's always going to be Twitter :P) because that place just keeps getting worst on top of already being infested with the vilest of scumbags. Not saying that tumblr is any better cuz it's not but yea, Twitter is still the worst, bar none. Also a reminder that a bunch of faceless randos who hide behind anonymity will never be worth your time, emotional health or your eyes. Chances are they're a bunch of radicals or delulus who haven't truly experienced enough of the real world to be able to separate their crazy paranoia fantasies from reality.

There's a reason Otona Precure is aimed at adults and not the unhinged shippers or anti-shippers or whatever.

I mean, what is there to gripe about here? Coco is the primary target of the bashing simply based on the shallow fact that he's a man and older than Nozomi. That's it, nothing else.

They don't take into account that he's not the type of person to take advantage of her, that nothing over the PG-13 rating happened between them since the moment they met in the original seasons (because this spin-off is still attached to Precure series and you know the writers are responsible enough to not allow any sort of explicit content in the story). Nor do they care that his proposal is the very first time he's ever confessed his feelings to Nozomi (and vice versa), who IS a full-fledged woman and more than capable of making her own decisions and choosing her own happiness.

Haters wanna hate because frankly, they're not good at anything else but projecting all the worst parts about themselves onto a harmless piece of fiction. Why else would they hang on social media all day with nothing good to say?

Anyways, yes! I am so excited for Otona MahoGirls and I might just blog it! 😁 Here's hoping it'll be just as good as Otona Precure and that we have something good to look forward to in 2024 cuz we really, really, really need it, ok? 😭 (pray for Palestine, pray for Japan 🙏)

#also sorry for taking so long to reply #i'm in the middle of moving and was sick all week #replies #otona precure

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simmancy · 2 years

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Happy Spooky Season, ghosts & ghouls!

I’m participating in @simblreenofficial again this year! My blog is getting appropriately spooky (its a WIP). Here’s what’s happening this month on simmancy-dot-tumblr-dot-com.

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜! 👋

Hi there if you’re new! My name is Kit, I am 31 now, this is my simblr, it’s a mess. When I’m actively posting, I post a variation of gameplay and some very basic storytelling and sometimes poorly done edits, so if that isn’t your jam, that’s okay! Just letting you know, k-pop inspired sims and vampires might be here, sometimes the pictures are sorta pretty. There’s a disclaimer on the blog stating that generally my content is akin to PG-13, anything you could construe as being above that rating gets tagged.

Sometimes I post CC. It’s rare but it happens.

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚎 🍬

I’ll be participating in simblreen festivities again this year! The first weekend my porchlight will be on all 3 days, a different tiny gift each day. When you see that the porchlight is on, feel free to come knocking! If you miss it, don’t fear–I’ll be releasing them all on October 31!

As of right now, I’m not planning on participating the full time the second weekend as I have IRL plans but I’m not sure if I’ll do a candy bowl or not. We’ll see!!

𝟸𝟾 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝙰𝚂 🧛

I’ve been trying to work on some of these up but I am famously lazy. ANYWAY though I am trying to do this challenge by @nikatyler so if you are ALSO vampire obsessed let a girl know. I love a good vampire!!

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 🌕

Hi regular followers!! I’m working on queueing Not So Perry (my Not So Berry challenge) as well as Star x Crossed (my s-pop story). They are going slowly because I’m currently ✨ tired ✨. This week I think I’m going to take a break from both and mostly do reblogs and finally clear out my ask box, so I can focus of finishing shooting Episode 1 of Star x Crossed.

I have another two saves I’ve been working on/playing in the background that are meant for simblr but I’m not ready to share them... just yet. Maybe soon!

I might drop ACNH content again too LMAO I’m currently back to hanging out on my island of Briarwood... Going on vacation and being away from my computer for a week really made me pick ACNH back up, yes.

𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 🔮

I copied and pasted this whole newsletter format from the year I got married :’) That was two years ago now!! Time sure does fly??

My “new job” isn’t so new anymore--I’ve been there a year--and it’s still pretty good! It keeps me busy... And this time of year can be unpredictable so while I’m not super-duper busy right this second it could change in an instant. We also have another round of weddings coming up to attend, plus my better half and I now throw the annual Halloween party in our friend group.

I also read more, but that’s because my coworker keeps giving me books LMAO

Anyway, that’s my update of the year. Happy spooky season everybody! I hope it’s a good one!

Stay safe & spooky out there!

#queue update #kitkat chitchat #blog update

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speeed-and-power · 1 year

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new fic page + fandom statistics

continuing on my quest to make my blog generally more accessible and generally better all round, I’ve updated the page where you can find all the fics I’ve written. it has filters so you can sort by pairing, rating, and genre, and is infinitely more readable than my last one!

it’s also allowed me to do some ~fun fandom fic statistics~ which my autistic self loves! I’ve put them below the cut because they’re dull.

Pairings

I’ve written 22 fics about Clarkson, Hammond and May, but for the purposes of these statistics I’m excluding my dribble/drouble/drabble roundup fic because I can’t be bothered including those 12 or so little ficlets. So, of the 21 fics:

Je/R was the first pairing I wrote

it was obviously my favourite for a while, because 10 of the 21 fics are Je/R

7 are J/J

3 are OT3

1 is Ja/R

I find this interesting—I like reading all pairings equally, and in theory like the idea of writing all pairings, but clearly I find myself drawn overwhelmingly to Je/R and J/J. I adore OT3 but find it tricky to write, and I also enjoy Ja/R but it doesn’t come as easily to me as anything with Jeremy in, so that’s why I think I’ve neglected it up until now.

This compares interestingly to the fandom overall, where the most popular pairing differs by platform! I’m just focusing on the main four pairings here (sorry Andy, Stig, and others D:) in order to more easily compare to my own writing.

On dreamwidth (which includes aggregate posts from the old LJ comm):

Ja/R leads with 1,551

J/J comes second with 1,455

OT3 is third with 1,109

Je/R is last! with 1,003

On ao3 under the Top Gear (UK) RPF tag:

J/J is first with 746 fics

Ja/R is second with 540 fics

OT3 is third with 442

Je/R is last again with 396

It’s fascinating to me that clearly the LJ comm was the place for fics, even though ao3 has been around since 2007. Although in saying that I believe it only really started to get popular from 2010 onwards (the first thing I ever posted on there was in 2013, a since-orphaned, really bad James Bond/Raoul Silva fic that I wrote when I was 16 LOL) and I know the comm has been active at least back to 2008.

Lastly, on ao3 under The Grand Tour (TV) RPF tag:

J/J is first with 200 fics

Je/R is second with 146

Ja/R is third with 125

OT3 is last (just!) with 124

Obviously we can’t take these numbers as being set in stone because fics may have multiple pairings and thus multiple tags (and I know most people tag both fandoms on ao3, which doubles up the numbers), but they do give us a good idea. What’s consistent about all three platforms is that J/J is at the top or very near the top (this doesn’t surprise me; anecdotally I always thought it was the most popular pairing) and OT3 is at the bottom or near the bottom. It’s also interesting to me that in recent years Je/R seems to have leapt in popularity, and I wonder why. Were there a bunch of primarily Ja/R writers back in the day who have since left fandom?

Moving on to...

Ratings

When it comes to my fics (and keep in mind I’m using the Australian rating system of G/PG/M/MA/R here) it’s not an exact science and I’m not very good at rating but I’ve done my best:

9 are G/PG (maybe a little smooching)

3 are M (perhaps some over-the-clothes action, or more mature themes)

1 is MA (slightly smutty without being explicit)

7 are R (smut)

I’m surprised at this, because I didn’t realise I’ve written that much smut. Of those rated R fics, though, 3 are Je/R, 2 are OT3, one is J/J and one is Ja/R. So I’m at least a somewhat equal opportunity porn provider.

To make it confusing, both ao3 and the DW comm use different rating systems to each other and to me (the DW one I think is the american system and is thus incomprehensible to me, and ao3’s has always seemed vague), but let’s look at them anyway:

dreamwidth

rated G - 178 uses - 5th

rated PG - 272 uses - 3rd

rated PG-13 - 329 uses - 2nd

rated PG-15 - 133 uses - 6th

rated R - 228 uses - 4th

rated NC-17 - 505 uses - 1st

I find it interesting that these numbers don’t correspond to the amount of fics with pairings that are listed in the comm, meaning I guess a lot of fics on there aren’t tagged with their ratings. I’m thus not too sure about the accuracy of these numbers—but regardless, of what’s tagged, the people want smut it seems! LOL

ao3 - Top Gear (UK) RPF

General Audiences - 618 uses - 3rd

Teen & Up Audiences - 736 uses - 1st

Mature - 525 uses - 4th

Explicit - 668 uses - 2nd

Not Rated - 155 uses - 5th

ao3 - The Grand Tour (TV) RPF is largely the same, except General Audiences and Explicit switch places:

General Audiences - 197 uses - 2nd Teen & Up Audiences - 225 uses - 1st Mature - 146 uses - 4th Explicit - 177 uses - 3rd Not Rated - 80 uses - 5th

I find it interesting that Mature is as unpopular as it is, but otherwise, I’m not too sure what else to glean from these statistics. Moving on to my final data point...

Genres

This was nearly impossible for me to quantify because I am good at tagging my fics but a lot of the tags I use are quite specific (“First Time”, “Episode Related”) so I find it hard to fit my fic into the commonly-accepted overarching ‘genres’ of fic: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, and smut are the four that first come to mind. A lot of my fics ended up being fluff, a few smut, one or two angsty, but there are more than a few that I left untagged completely when it comes to genre because they’re kind of nothing! If anything they were maybe fluffy, but fluff to me implies tooth-rottingly sweet and these pieces didn’t really scream that to me.

smut (everything rated R basically): 7 fics

fluff: 6 fics

untagged: 5 fics

angst (but it’s weak angst by my standards, ‘minor conflict’ or ‘morose pining’ would probably be a better tag, LOL): 4 fics

double tagged (fluff/smut, smut/pwp x2, angst/smut): 4 fics

porn without plot: 2 fics

alternate universe: 1 fic

Let’s look at dreamwidth first. It has a lot of tags, which is excellent for my purposes! I haven’t included all of them; I limited myself to the top 7, an arbitrary number just cuz.

alternate universe: 428 uses

humour: 317 uses

fluff: 159 uses

gen: 150 uses

dribble/drouble/drabble: 144 uses

established relationship: 138 uses

angst: 111 uses

I suspect we’re looking at the same issue we had when examining the ratings (where people in the past have tagged their fic with the pairing but nothing else). I also suspect AU leads the pack because there’s no corresponding ‘not AU’ tag, but in all honesty I’m surprised by those numbers. Keep in mind, though, I don’t really read AU fic and don’t tend to write it (with one exception) so of course that would surprise me LOL. Humour is kinda a given with these boys, and I’m not surprised fluff is up there either. Now onto ao3!

ao3 - Top Gear (UK) RPF

Fluff: 317 uses

Established Relationship: 226 uses

RPF: 174 uses

Angst: 163 uses

Hurt/Comfort: 157 uses

Slash: 134 uses

Episode Related: 126 uses

ao3 - The Grand Tour (TV) RPF is quite similar with one amusing tag added:

Fluff: 133 uses

Established Relationship: 83 uses

Hurt/Comfort: 83 uses

Angst: 60 uses

Friendship: 46 uses

Not Beta Read: 44 uses

RPF: 39 uses

The addition of ‘Not Beta Read’ made me lol because I can identify with it a lot, but I didn’t expect it to show up in the tags! Hey, if anyone needs a beta, let me know—I love doing that shit. :D

But let’s not get bogged down with ‘oo didn’t beta ‘oo, I find the fact that RPF is on both lists to be interesting because I’ve never bothered tagging for RPF (especially as it’s already in the fandom tag). I guess it’s polite to, I just hadn’t thought of doing it! Otherwise, unlike dreamwidth, the denizens of ao3 largely seem to shun AUs (it does not appear on the list of tags at all for Top Gear (UK) RPF, and appears last in the list for The Grand Tour (TV) RPF), but we can see that fluff is right up there just like in the comm.

Conclusions

I found it interesting how the tastes of the fandom mirrored or differed to my own when it came to my writing. I found the pairing breakdowns especially fascinating with how they seem to have changed over time!

More personally, looking at my back catalogue, I truly think that anything written pre-2017 (published before of sunlight and smoke; I had my fics on a pseud of one of my kpop accounts before I deleted them all and reuploaded them on my current ao3 account which is why the dates are all a bit shonky) is a bit shit. The titles are meh, the descriptions all end in ellipses, and I just don’t think the writing is all that good.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing egregiously wrong with them. They’re just not particularly memorable; they don’t have strong plots or story beats and most were written as prompt fills. There is NOTHING wrong with prompt fills—I still love writing prompt fills—but a lot were written to fulfill a purpose (fill the prompt) and as such I didn’t have complete creative control and didn’t desire to expand on them any more than I had to. And I’m not saying my most recent works have groundbreaking premises either, but at least I can read through them and not cringe, LOL!

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, feel free to expand upon these stats yourself! I’d love to see how your writing compares, or see your own hypotheses about why the pairings have shifted so much in popularity over time!

#mev rambles #i mean i think this stuff is interesting #not to sound like james #but the vast majority won't i'm sure LOL

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,399 times in 2022

That's 1,051 more posts than 2021!

620 posts created (44%)

779 posts reblogged (56%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@karamelcoveredolicity

@troubleinapinksuit

@dearaustinbutler

@sagesolsticewrites

@austinbutlerr

I tagged 1,365 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#elvis - 427 posts

#answered - 411 posts

#elvis 2022 - 329 posts

#austin butler - 208 posts

#elvis gifs - 157 posts

#dirty deeds - 114 posts

#milasthings - 78 posts

#milas thirsty thursday - 74 posts

#fic recs - 49 posts

#milaselviscontent - 49 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#also a psa to everyone whether youre into dudes or not there is nothing more comfortable than sleeping in an extra large men's tshirt

My Top Posts in 2022:

🍁 Autumn & Halloween Prompt List 🎃

It's about to get spoopy up in here. We wanted to do something special not only to celebrate everyone's favorite season but also to honor the amazing writers and creators on Tumblr.

Most of us are creators of some kind — whether that be writers, gifmakers, or artists — and this time of year is hard. We start running into fatigue + the scariest thing during the whole Halloween season: creator's block.

✨ Cue the prompt list ✨

This prompt list is split into three groups: dialogue, scenario, and NSFW prompts. Each section has 31 prompts which are sorted with more general autumn themes first and Halloween-specific prompts after that.

A HUGE HUGE thank you to Shawni (@austin-butlers-gf), Sage (@fangirlwithasweettooth), Kenzie (@fangirl-imagines), & Gabby (@dontbesussis) for helping to create this lovely list!

Feel free to reblog + use for whatever it is that you create and post here on Tumblr! Happy Halloween and enjoy 👻 ♥️

DIALOGUE

[ prompts with / indicate that both characters A + B have lines ]

“You have a leaf in your hair.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Why don’t you take off that mask? I’d like to see your face.”

“You’re scared of that, really?”

“That’s your favorite candy? You have shit taste.”

“Promise not to laugh at me if I scream.”

“My friend abandoned me at this Halloween party and I don’t know anyone. But you look as miserable as I feel.”

“If you can’t summon flames directly from hell, store-bought is fine.”

“It says take one, love.”

“Well…you grabbed my hand first.”

“Oh, I see. Is someone a little scared?”

“I spent so long in the darkness I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

“You’re the devil in disguise.”

“Nice try. You’ll have to work harder to scare me.”

“I know you’re trying to be scary, but you’re just way too cute.”

“I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as your [partner/bf/gf].”

“You’re a scaredy cat.” / “I am not!”

“Boo!” / “You were scarier with the mask off.”

“What are you supposed to be?” / “It isn’t obvious?”

“Ew candy corn?” / “What? This candy is hated for no reason. It’s good!”

“That kind of scared me.” / “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

See the full post

514 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

My Bestest Girl

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No

Prompt: You have a nightmare but your husband is always there to comfort you when you need him. Feat. a spicy ending. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: mentions of sex

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 1030

A/N: I swear this morphed into like 3 different things as I was writing it. Part 2...maybe? Smut is coming cause i can't control myself, i just don't know when 😂

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You’re running like you’ve never run before. One foot replaces the other faster than you can even think and you feel a pain from somewhere, but you can’t place it exactly. Your chest heaves and you feel panic spreading throughout your body. The darkness around you starts to cave in. There are no walls, but you feel them crushing down on you anyway. Although you try to push them back, they only come faster. The horrific, distorted face of someone you don’t recognize appears floating in the darkness, and your heart lurches as-

Suddenly, you’re awake, sweating and shaking a little in the bed. It takes a moment for you to return to reality and remember where you are and that you’re safe.

“Baby?” Elvis’ deep, smooth voice comes out raspier than usual. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You curl your arms around your knees, and your husband leans up. The bed shifts under his weight as he scoots toward you and wraps his arms around your shoulders.

“What’s the matter, baby girl?” he asks again, rubbing your shoulder and tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

You look at him in the dark. His blue eyes peer tenderly back, his eyebrows knitted in concern. Although his hair is disheveled, he still looks as handsome as the day you married him. Something in the way he’s gazing so intently at you draws your tears out. You fall back into his arms and start to sob. The cold air in the bedroom freezes your tears as they trickle down your cheeks. His grip loosens and then retightens to bring you all the way into his lap, and you bury your face into his shoulder. His skin is warm and smooth, and you feel terribly guilty for wetting his beautiful chest with your ugly tears.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “Come ‘ere and let me hold ya. Everything’s gonna be aright. Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

You let your body go limp in his strong embrace, and you feel completely supported. The way he rubs your back and squeezes you just a little too tightly makes you feel like nothing in the world would dare try to hurt you. He presses a few kisses to your sweaty forehead. As you heave to a normal breath, Elvis leans back and moves your hair out of your face so he can see your eyes.

“You’re my bestest girl, you know that?”

“I thought your mama was your bestest girl,” you sniffle with a small smile.

Elvis smiles back, wipes a stray tear from your cheek, and then shakes his head.

“She’ll always be my first girl, but you became my bestest girl the day I married ya,” he says, and you smile so hard it hurts. “Now, tell me what’s goin on. D’ya have a nightmare?”

You nod.

“What about, baby girl?”

“I was trying to run away from something and it wasn’t working,” you say, feeling tears well up again. “I couldn’t see exactly what it was but I just know I was terrified of it. As I was running, the hallways started to get smaller and smaller like they were squeezing me to death.”

“Well that don’t sound like fun, baby. But hey, look,” he responds, taking your hand in his. He flips your palm so that it’s facing the ceiling and curls his own fingers over yours. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for ya. Ain’t nothing gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

He squeezes your fingers and smiles down at you. You glance up at him in the moonlight and gently touch his cheek. He leans into your hand, and you brush the lines around his smiling mouth with your thumb. You pull him toward you and press your lips to his. As you kiss him, his arm snakes around your back and pulls you against his chest. You wind your hands around his neck and back, spreading your fingers to absorb as much of his warmth as possible.

He pulls back for a moment to gaze into your eyes before kissing your cheek and your neck. He brings you into a big bear hug. Your legs reposition to hug his waist, and you throw your arms over his shoulders. As you squeeze out your stress, he peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders.

You feel him kiss the top of the strap of your nightgown and then pause. You turn to look at him. He stares at the strap with an angry expression for a moment before quickly moving it out of the way, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, and putting it back. He nods as if he’s pleased with the job he’s done. You throw your head back to laugh, but he takes the opportunity to assault your undefended neck with kisses. His breath tickles your skin, and you giggle, playfully trying to push him away. After a few moments, he stops, kisses your jaw sweetly, and meets your eyes.

“You feelin any better?” he asks, and you nod enthusiastically.

“Much. Thank you. I love you,” you respond in a whisper.

See the full post

545 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

ASG - Part Two: Burnin' Love

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yeah, by me 💀

Prompt: Elvis sweeps Bird outside to the lake to cool down on a hot day. Spoiler, she doesn't cool off, but it’s not the temperature that has her sweating. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Nothing tbh? this is vanilla af

Rating: M || Word Count: 4442

A/N: this might be my favorite smut that i've ever written...

This is Part 2 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

She happens to be passing through the living room when a knock on the door comes. She's suddenly very pleased to be the one who opens it since Elvis is standing on the other side. It's been a week or so since their little walk and they've managed to see each other a couple of times. Mostly, he would walk her home after work. Paranoid that someone would see her and tell her father, Bird hasn't let anything happen that would have been too scandalous. Elvis respects her wishes and she appreciates it.

“Elvis?”

“Hi baby, how ya doin’?” he asks, smiling and stepping inside the house.

She curls her fingers into her palms and then grabs him by the shirt sleeve.

“This a nice house ya got he-”

He cuts off when she harshly drags him into a corner of the room, behind a bookcase.

“Thank you, but I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t alert my daddy your presence,” she responds, glancing out from behind a stack of books to see if her father is anywhere near. When she swivels back around, she jumps back at how close Elvis is to her face.

“Why not, baby girl?”

His arms wind around her waist and start to pull her toward him. She sucks in a breath and clenches her jaw, trying to keep his hands off her.

“Because he’ll probably kill ya,” she responds, glancing around again. “He don't like greasers or singers. Or anyone who ain't a devout Christian.”

“Well good news for ya daddy, I am a devout Christian.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not nearly devout enough for my daddy. ”

“Well if we ain’t gonna have any fun in this house, let’s get outta here then,” he says, nuzzling his face into her neck. She stifles a giggle.

“Stop that! What would we even do?” she asks.

“We could go for a walk,” he says, kissing her jaw, “or look at the record store,” he kisses her neck, “I don’t care where we go as long as I’m with you.”

She finally manages to release him from her neck and smile.

“It’s too damn hot for all that,” she replies, feeling a streak of bold lust. “We could go down to the lake? That oughta cool us off.”

“Ain’t nothing in the world that could cool you off, mama.”

“Just go,” she says, flushing. She pushes him toward the door. “Before daddy sees you. Or worse, sees me with you.”

See the full post

563 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

ASG - Part Four: All Shook Up

Character/Fandom: Elvis - ELVIS (2022)

Requested: yes! - anons

Prompt: When Gladys Presley invited Bird up to Graceland to work as a cook in the house, she had mixed feelings. But in order to support herself and your daddy, she moved up to Memphis anyway. Things have been awkward between her and Elvis, but strange things are happening every day and, not surprisingly, Elvis has her all shook up again. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Angst, smut, cursing, a little physical aggressiveness + i think that's it!

Rating: M, this is good stuff baby || Word Count: 16,293 🥴

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! I have never worked harder on a fic tbh, and the dialogue in this one hits so hard. Yes, the one part is inspired by that scene in Dirty Dancing — you know the one. Sorry for taking FOREVER, but I really hope y'all enjoy it!

This is Part 4 of ASG. FInd the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

This is a BIG boi + it’s special, so pls read these notes:

This is super long, so I put little PAGE BREAKS in places where you can pause reading. Please take advantage of them!

Deadass made a PLAYLIST to enhance your reading experience. It's in order + should flow with the plot. But depending on reading speed, it might be off, and that's totally okay! If you want the true experience, I've written where to jump + play certain songs in the fic. This is obvi totally optional!!!

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“I jus don’t know what to do bout it,” Gladys says, running a hand over her face. “They’re makin fun of my baby all over town. And probably all over the country, too.”

“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Presley,” Bird responds, taking a bowl of something warm from her fingers. “I can always go back home if this is a bad time.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, honey,” she replies in her thick southern drawl. “We love havin you over. You don’t know how nice it is to have another woman in this damn house.”

Bird smiles painfully as she watches Gladys reach for a beer.

A lot has happened since Elvis had broken Bird's heart and left her sobbing on the floor of her house in Louisiana. It was almost five months later when she received a call from Gladys Presley. She had been shocked to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. She’d called to ask if Bird wanted to come up to Memphis and move in with the family. One of their cooks had quit and Gladys couldn’t find anyone who cooked southern-style food the way she liked it. Bird knows she'd taken quite a liking to her. Whenever Elvis had brought her home for dinner, just a handful of times, Bird was always willing to help.

Anyway, she did always have a knack for cooking, especially those delicious southern-style comfort dishes. She had originally refused, but when Gladys called twice more and offered to pay Bird handsomely, it wasn’t really a conversation anymore. She and daddy were struggling after he turned to alcohol for comfort and wasn't working as much as usual. Bird had picked up an extra job at the diner in town while still working at the hayride. She'd been working herself to death, but with the Presley’s money she can help support herself and her father without having to break her back.

Plus, she’d offered.

Bird is always incredibly nervous about seeing Elvis, especially after everything that has happened. But she didn't know what else to do. It was too good of a deal for her. So, she'd packed up some of her belongings and moved up to Memphis, leaving daddy at home by himself.

Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree, the Presley’s neighbors, welcomed her into a small guest house in their backyard. Gladys had offered for her to stay at Graceland, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Being so close to him and not being able to have him. It was all too painful, too regretful. And she knew Elvis wouldn’t want her there, anyway.

It really hasn’t been all that bad. The money is good, the amenities are nice, Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree are always warm and welcoming toward her. Gladys has been surprisingly like a surrogate mother in many ways. She’s been protective over her, frequently asking how Bird's getting on at the house and whether the Peachtrees are treating her right. She's even asked how bird's father is a time or two, even though Bird get the feeling Gladys doesn’t like him much. You can’t blame her. She’d even let Bird have a few sips of beer, despite the fact that she was still underage. That’s something her father would never allow her to do, even if you were of legal age.

“I just hope he’s doin aright,” Gladys continues. “That damn Colonel is always tellin him what to do.”

Bird keeps her mouth shut but raises her eyebrows in agreeance. Despite sympathizing with her, Bird doesn't feel like it’s her place to say anything about the family. Not to mention this entire conversation is still a sore spot since she's convinced that the Colonel is the reason for her breakup with Elvis.

“Oh lord they’re home! My poor baby!” Gladys shouts, glancing out the windows.

Speak of the devil, himself. Bird joins Gladys at the window, watching the familiar dark purple 1956 Cadillac Eldorado drive slowly up the path to the house. There has been a crowd outside for hours now, and the noise is driving her crazy.

The dinner isn’t even finished cooking yet, but Elvis and Mr. Presley would be bursting through the front door any minute now. They’re coming back from New York where Elvis had been on the Steve Allen show. Long story short, the performance was a disaster. He’d been put onstage in full-length tailcoats and forced to sing to a hound dog. An actual hound dog.

Bird watched at home with the Peachtrees, squeezing a pillow tightly. She'd felt especially awkward in recent days. She likes the Peachtrees very much, but they are made of old money and she knows they have mixed feelings about the Presleys. Mrs. Peachtree has been adamant that Elvis isn’t the type of boy young girls should be looking up to. And she used his “Hound Dog” performance as ammunition to prove her point. Bird bites her tongue whenever the Peachtrees begin to badmouth him. And she pretends not to know about all of the rude things the other neighbors whisper about the Presleys behind their backs.

Just as the car parks, Bird quietly dips back into the kitchen to help Alberta, the other cook, with the rest of the food. But mostly to avoid Elvis. She does that a lot nowadays, avoiding, and she doesn't even want to think about the first time he’d discovered her at the house. Apparently, Gladys had neglected to tell her son that his ex-sweetheart would be coming up to work in the house.

See the full post

645 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ASG - Part One: A Southern Gentleman

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No, but it is deserved

Prompt: Bird's old friend, Elvis, looks a lot different than she remembers - a lot hotter, that is. Can she control herself as he walks her home like a good southern gentleman? [ Fem!OC ]

TW: None!

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 1484

A/N: He's obviously not dating Dixie in this version. Damn...I really don't know what to do with myself. I used to have a crush on Austin a long time ago, but it's been rekindled like 2 million times stronger. Austin w/ dark hair just hits different 😩

This is Part 1 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

She’s folding an extra towel in the wings of the stage when a flash of pink silk catches her attention. She glances up just long enough to see a guitar and a pair of fancy black and white shoes. She shrugs, going back to finish her work and thinking nothing of it for the time being.

“He’s a young singer from Memphis, Tennessee,” the announcer’s voice booms around the building. “Give a warm hayride welcome to a Mr. Elvis Presley.”

Her head snaps up when she hears the name. Elvis?? She had gone to elementary school down in Mississippi with a boy named Elvis. It couldn’t possibly be the same boy…could it? She hurriedly finishes folding up the towels she’s working on and quietly sneaks behind the edge of the stage curtains. As she peers out at the tall young man standing at the microphone, she’s sure it can’t be him. The little boy she had known was blonde, skinny, and bony.

“It goes something like this…” the singer mumbles into the microphone. He continues to mutter a little bit of a song.

“Get a haircut, buttercup!” yells a man from the crowd.

Before she gets a chance to think again, he begins to sing. Like…really sing. His voice is strong and forceful, like nothing she’s ever heard before. She watches from the wings and can’t help but smile as he wiggles, dances, and moves around on the stage. His voice is incredible, deep and smooth. But the way his body moves, she has never seen anything like it before. Some girls in the crowd begin to holler, scream, and yelp. she bites her own lip and holds back a smile as she watches the silky pink fabric dance along his body.

Not before long, the entire crowd of women is leaning toward the stage and shrieking. As he reaches back into the crowd, some of the girls even pull at his clothes and the pink suit jacket lifts off his frame. As he stumbles back behind the curtains, a woman yells from the crowd. Bird peers around the curtain and catches a second’s glimpse of her: an older lady with dark hair. She knows this woman. She’s seen her before...

The sound of laughter near her catches Bird’s attention and her eyes land on the back of the singer’s frame as he walks away. Before she can stop herself, she speaks up.

“Elvis??” she asks, gripping the curtain tightly.

The tall figure pauses for a moment before a handsome face emerges from the shadows. She can’t help but smile. The moment she meets his sea blue eyes, the recognition spreads across his face. He lets out a breathy chuckle and smiles sweetly.

“It really is you…” she mumbles.

“Bird?? It can’t be…” he asks in a voice deeper than she expects. She releases her death grip on the curtain and reaches down to smooth her skirt.

He hands his guitar off to a bandmate and walks toward her. As he comes closer, she can smell him – a mix of sweat, musk, and something sweet like cinnamon. It’s almost intoxicating. She reaches out to steady herself on a table.

“What the hell are you doin’ up here?” he asks.

“Daddy got transferred up ‘ere, so we moved. I work 'ere,” she responds. “What are you doin up here? I almost didn’t recognize ya. You were blonde last I saw.”

“Yeah,” he replies, dropping his head to rub the back of his neck. A few strands of dark black hair fall over his forehead, and she has the urge to brush them away but she resists. “Well, how bout you, I mean, you’re all grown up now. Look at ya…”

She flushes as he gestures at her body. He leans on the wall near her, positioning his body diagonally. She takes a deep breath, quickly glancing at his flexing bicep. He tilts his head to look at her, and she catches his eyes tracing her figure up and down.

“You’d better get going, Bird,” one of her coworkers says as they pass by. “Your daddy won’t be happy if you get home late again.

“Oh damn,” she mutters, glaring through the cracked glass of her old wristwatch. “Well…I’d better start back. You 'member how daddy is.”

As she turns to reach for her sweater, his hand catches her wrist.

See the full post

647 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#this is so fun!#i love this and i love all of you!#asg was apparently top notch this year hehehe

3 notes · View notes

ask-butterscotch-and-friends · 10 months

Note

So why is the blog PG-13 exactly? What stops it from being PG? Or G? Or even R?

((MOD: Given the fandom this story USED to take place in (Bendy), and the fact that this story primarily takes place on tumblr, I knew for a fact that there'd be people under 18 following. So I didn't want to go any more mature than a PG-13 rating for this story.

But I also didn't want to go for G or PG because I don't want people thinking Butterscotch and Friends is for children. It very much is not...BAF is one of those things that kids CAN enjoy, but the target audience is teens and young adults. There's a lot of themes that I simply don't think kids would understand, and probably straight up shouldn't be exposed to.

So PG-13 is a nice middle ground, especially since that is the target audience I'm attempting to reach anyway.

But can I tell you a secret? If I could have it my way...Butterscotch and Friends would go beyond an R rating...but that's simply not possible on a site like tumblr, or when most of the followers are Bendy fans who seem to be mostly kids and teens.))

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sunset-peril · 1 year

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FAQ (Read first please ^^)

Tumblr won't let me link to the FAQ section I have on the desktop version (for whatever reason) so here it is for mobile users.

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What Does HFS and AMNT stand for?

HFS = Hyrule’s Final Stand (My Zelda Series)

AMNT = A Man Named Terran: A Dual Destinies Tale (My Ace Attorney Series, no relation to the Mutant Ninja Turtles, haha)

How does your ask box work?

When submitting an ask, please note whether you want to talk to a character, or me. Options are as follows:

Anyone from A Man Named Terran

Anyone from Hyrule’s Final Stand

Me.

Silly little ask blogs are what got me onto Tumblr, so I'd love to answer those types of things!

Do you post any art?

I can’t draw very well. Sorry to disappoint. I’m a writer over an artist, and most of the art that might be here are reblogs or presents.

Is this a personal blog or a themed blog?

This is my everything blog. Myself, my Zelda series, my Ace Attorney series and other related nonsense will be here!

May I draw an OC of yours/draw a scene from your stories?

PLEASE! I’d love that very much. You don’t need to ask, I just ask you credit me for the story/character and send it to me so I can marvel at it. ….and shove it in everyone’s face like it’s Phoenix Wright’s attorney’s badge because someone likes my stuff enough to make more stuff.

Do you take requests?

Nah. And I can’t promise it will happen in the future either. I don’t do “trends” or “-tober” events either. Sometimes I’ll do a few Shiptobers casually, but with no intention to do the whole month. The ask box is what I offer for interactives.

What about prompts?

I accept prompt suggestions, but may or may not complete the prompt. That is up to my own discretion.

Headcanons?

I get so into my stories that I forget what is a headcanon and what is not. Keep this in mind when interacting. I’d love to hear your headcanons about my stories!

Anything obviously canon-deviant will be noted at the top of the post if I think it will be problematic. However, if its obvious then... its obvious.

I found something unrealistic in one of your stories!

I probably put it there on purpose. Especially with the Ace Attorney series, A Man Named Terran, I’ll sometimes sacrifice complete realism. There will still be some degree of realism, but it may not be 100% guaranteed-to-work-on-Earth. Don't try it at home.

Do you have a Ko-Fi or Patreon?

No. Because I don’t expect people to use it, and I don’t really have reason to restrict things at the moment. If many people become interested, I might open a Patreon or something for exclusive stories and whatnot. Emphasis on the might.

Also, Paypal hates me so I have no way to take donations due to the sucker refusing to link to a financial account for withdrawls.

Do you make NSFW material?

Not intentionally. I prefer to keep material PG-13 and under. Sometimes I’ll make something that’s Mature/R-rated for gore/violence, but making that material M/R is not the intention. Usually my M/R content is related specifically to the UR-1 Incident from Dual Destinies, which is mostly where the game’s M rating comes from anyway.

Spoiler Policy -

Official content like trailers and Direct content must have been published by the producer (Nintendo, CAPCOM, etc) before I will publish or talk about it. I don’t like to deal with “leaks”.

Gameplay/Story information will be released (with a spoiler warning) ONLY after the end of the day of release (Usually 8-9pm on the day a game releases)

Yes, that means I won’t talk to you about the storyline of Tears of the Kingdom outside of trailer material until May 12th, 2023… if I even get off my Switch for long enough to interact, haha.

Major Spoilers will be tagged as spoiler warning until the game’s first birthday. Minor spoilers will depend. After the content’s first anniversary, you assume sole responsibility for avoiding spoilers on my page.

It is always implied that one of my stories about a certain game will contain major and mild spoilers.

Proceed at your own risk. :D

#page organization #pinned post #faq

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mickeyjunk · 2 years

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what anime was it that you were recommended?

God if this is about the post where I was recommended an anime that included like. What'd I say. some of the worst things ppl can do to each other, right? I'm putting all of this under the cut, just because it contains mentions of assault/SA/CP.

This requires context. When we began talking abt anime we both shared a few that we enjoyed, and the ones I listed were basically all cutesy or pg-13 at the worst type shows. I think the list was Shugo Chara, Magical DoReMi, Toriko, The Ancient Magus' Bride, and possibly Cells at Work and/or How To Keep A Mummy. None of these are like, adult-rated shows or even pg-13 rlly. I asked for some recs along these lines, or slice of life animes, but emphasized that I love fantasy genres especially.

And my coworker decided to recommend Berserk. And when explaining it, he told me how there was.. Some really questionable stuff... And when I pried about what it was, since I don't wanna watch hentai shit and I've never heard of Berserk, he just pulled up a picture of (tw for rape mention?) some fucking demon monster insect thing literally violating and murdering a fairy (by the way, fairies in this series are literally CHILDREN.) Like, this was the Thing he decided to show me first. what the FUCK?? And then he went on and on about all the awful shit featured in the show and ha the audacity to say 'but it's not that bad it just adds to the stakes of the story' like bro ok I guess so but also I don't want to fucking read that, ever, what in the WORLD about a bunch of magical girl animes made you think I'd want to read or watch THAT

Anyways I may take this ask down after a bit because I frankly don't want this kind of content on my blog at all but yeah. A universal anime rating scale would be nice because god damn.

#tox talks #not sure how to tag this but i put a disclaimer above the readmore #anyways if anyone has better anime to recommend that includes fantasy and magic but isnt one of those fanservice isekais id love to hear

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cartoonsaint · 3 years

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i'm pickin away at the next chap of the frenrey soulmate au but i stumbled upon an earlier draft of chapter 3 from before i decided to go w benrey's pov and :) i like it enough to share, so here:

#i just think they're fun!!#saint writes #i'm pokin at my writin! i'm circling it! i'm gonna get around this block!!#suggestive #idk? idk man lmk if i can tag it better #but also my blog is rated pg-13 anyways?#hlvrai

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atlas-of-the-universe · 3 years

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A Guiding Hand

Reading Time: ~15 minutes

Word Count: 3,798

Rating and Readability: PG-13 / Fairly Easy

Author’s Note: I feel like I’ve been teasing you guys with the new fic and I fully admit, that is my bad LMFAO. I thought I would come back from my blog-break with something to offer. Also turns out that algebra is a lot more difficult than it was in high school??? Who knew! I also just finished my first semester at big-girl-college (meaning my third year) with a 4.0 so I’m pretty stoked. Anyways, with this fic, I knew I needed to get something out for you guys so honestly, it feels a little rushed but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. Massive shoutout to @just-another-blog-of-fluff for tagging me in fics they made during my down week, you made it SOOOO much more bearable. Side note, I’m still working on a fic that’s DEFINITELY going to end up being around 10k or more. By God that fic has a lot of story telling. Yeesh. This fic sort of centers on the relationship you’ve built with Loki, even suggesting some romance at certain points. Mostly fluff and Loki being a little shit LOL. <3 Love you guys.

Your breathing hitched and held for a fraction of a second. The whistling of the air against your ears --- it was the only other thing your senses were focused on at this moment. A bright red and white target perched 300 feet away from you, the piece of plastic dancing in the wind from where it hung, mocking you from the tree lines. This was the furthest Clint had ever had you away from the target, but you considered this a fair challenge. In recent months, you had become exceedingly skilled in numerous training areas but mainly became interested in archery. There was just something about the accuracy that you had pinned down, and some of the Avengers had taken notice. So instead of trying out so many different areas of combat like you had in the beginning, Natasha had you focus on archery practically every other day. Your arms had become more toned, you had noticed. The same went for your back and chest, giving you a muscular upper build. It was something you were proud of as if your image and the way you began to look made you look more like an Avenger. Clint had even been courteous enough to take time out of his training schedule to help you with yours. In all reality, Clint had jumped at the opportunity to teach someone his ‘art,’ but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. He regularly emphasized understanding the wind and its patterns, and more importantly, when you can’t. Today, there was a steady stream of crisp upstate New York fall air blowing towards your face, the wind nipping at every surface of the skin that was visible from the outside. The temperature of the wind made it increasingly difficult for you to tell how fast it was blowing. Still, you knew you would need to go for a higher angle since the wind was blowing towards you. You scrunched your face and took a hand off of the bow you were holding to pull your scarf above your nose. Slowly, you redrew your bow and angled your back elbow upwards.

The world once again fell silent as all your attention zeroed onto your bow, arrow, body, and the wind. You inhaled sharply through your nose and tensed the muscles in your chest and back. Your fingers grasped with just enough pressure around the grip of the bow. The silence of the compound yard rung in your ears, the neat line of trees on the border of the property filling your vision. When the right pocket of air blow past your ears, you released your fingers and watched the arrow launch with vigor into the trees. The target on the opposite side of the yard still swung wildly from the breeze, so it would be difficult to see where it landed or if it even hit the target. You sighed and bit the inside of your lip. That was your last arrow, so you had no option but to go and retrieve your weapons and ultimately see what your hit ratio was out of ten.

“I believe you may be looking for these,” a voice called out from behind you. You quickly whipped your body around to see Loki standing just a few feet behind you. He held a collection of black metal arrows in his hand, his other hand tucked behind himself. “I was exploring the compound when I found myself being bombarded by loose arrows.” He smirked, taking a step forward and extending the hand full of arrows.

You chuckled and reached out to take them from him. “First of all, they weren’t loose. I knew where they were going. Second of all, Tony warned us against standing in the trees exactly because of stuff like this. If you had gotten hurt, that would have been on you.”

Loki smirked and turned his head down to look at the grass. He had a thoughtful but entertained expression on his face. “I’m aware. Though I’m amused that you believe one rogue arrow could really stop a God.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, yeah. If you get hit by one, it means that there are others on their way.”

“You’re learning from Barton,” Loki guessed, though he said it rather unimpressed.

You smiled. At any other point, interruptions like this would have annoyed you. However, this was the first conversation you had all day, and you were grateful for someone to talk to. “Yeah, I think I’m having an off day, though.”

Loki scrunched his face and cocked his head. “You do realize you hit eight out of the ten arrows you launched into the target. I surely don’t know what you mean by an ‘off-day.’”

Along with your abilities, the knowledge of you being incredibly hard on yourself had gotten itself around the compound. No one had known why, of course, but they saw it in the way you were always determined to get better. It was admirable, and truthfully, a little intimidating. You scoffed and shrugged the quiver that was strapped to your back off of you, catching its fall with a firm hand. “It’s not one-hundred-percent,” you mumbled, squeezing the arrows together tightly and sliding them back into the quiver. You pulled the strap above your head and shifted your bow onto your shoulder. “I’m an Avenger, Loki. I have to…” your words trailed off as you desperately searched for what to say. The truth was that you were terrified. Terrified that the world would go to shambles in an instant and you, being the newest to the team, wouldn’t be ready. The Avengers had years of training on you, and you had only a few months of training. Part of you wondered if Peter had ever felt like this, being how young he was, but you thought it was inappropriate to ask. Instead, you had decided to keep these anxieties and feelings to yourself. You concluded with yourself that as an Avenger, you had an obligation to face everything independently if possible. “I have to get better.”

Loki looked you up and down before putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. He sighed, looking off towards where your target was. “You know,” he said. “That target is one hundred yards away. Say, about ninety…ninety-one meters away. That’s further than you Midgardians put targets in the Olympics. That must mean something to you.”

You paused to think but ultimately shook your head. “Being an Olympian isn’t going to save the world. I need to be better than that. I need to be an Avenger.”

Loki paused to cock his eyebrow and purse his lips. “Now, that was the corniest line I’ve ever heard uttered.” he teased. Just as you hissed a dismissive ‘psh’ and began to turn around, Loki stammered out a chorus of ‘wait’s and jogged up beside you. He placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention, forcing you to turn a bit to face him. With little choice, you turned towards him with an expectant look. “Get into stance,” Loki commanded.

For a second, you were confused, watching his eyes and scanning for any attempts at a trick he may be playing. You sucked on the inside of your lip and clicked your mouth after giving it some thought. You gave in to his request, muttering a short ‘fine’ before shrugging off your bow, pulling an arrow, and nocking it. Your left arm was extended, your shoulders and right elbow lining up and pointing towards the back of your body.

Loki stepped up to you, suddenly very close for your liking. Though you both wore coats, you felt the pressure of his chest against your back, sending sparks and butterflies through your stomach. Your body immediately tensed up. Gingerly, the fingers of his left hand followed down your left shoulder, trailing the length of your coat to the tips of your fingers. Glancing over, you noticed just how close his face was to yours, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the training field. His fingertips were cold against yours, but the closer he was, the warmer you felt. Could he tell how fast your heart was beating? His jaw hung slack for a few seconds before he found his words. “I was…fond of archery back home on Asgard. Granted, our weaponry was just a tad more advanced than yours,” Focused, his hands traced back up the sleeve of your arm, down your shoulders, and followed themselves down your sides. “The targets were just a few yards further. If you aim against the wind….” You tensed up again, the weight of his palms against your waist making you even more nervous than you had been before. You shifted with his guidance but resumed your posture. “Still just as sensitive, I see,” he chuckled into your ear, his voice a low growl. “You know, it would really be a shame if someone were to use your little weakness against you in the heat of battle.” At this point, you couldn’t tell if the chills you had been getting had been from the air outside or from Loki’s mischievous proximity to you and his breath against your neck. A warm shade of pink had since bloomed across your cheeks.

You released your arrow, watching it soar above the range’s targets and land with a resounding thwack in the lone tree that held your target. You grinned and reached behind you to grab another arrow to repeat the motion. You began to notch the second arrow and drew the string back again with a little more confidence this time. Suddenly, faster than you could have stopped Loki’s movements, he pushed his hands downwards and past the hem of your jacket. You flinched with his sudden jerk, but before you could have countered his movements, Loki wormed his hands up the inside of your coat, and his freezing fingers gripped onto your bare sides. You screamed and released the hand that held the string of the bow, the arrow zipping across the tree line and clattering against something that sounded metal in the distance. Shit. Tony would have your head if it was something expensive.

Albeit your frustration, simply because of the temperature of Loki’s hands on your sensitive skin already had you in giggles. You squirmed to get out of his grip, but instead of letting you go, his hands snaked around your torso, successfully trapping you in his bear hug. His fingers were pressed ever so gently into your lower ribs. “Lokihihi, that was way too dangerous!” You scolded, sliding your hands against the sides of your coat in an attempt to shimmy his hands off. He moved with your movements, following your squirming. “What if that had hit you? That was a loaded weapon!”

“My dear, there’s no fun in this world without a little danger. Wouldn’t you agree?” Loki’s breathe hit the back of your ear, sending chills up your spine.

“Nohot if it’s at my expense!” You giggle frantically, dropping your bow and shoving your hands at the ribs of your coat to keep his hands still.

“Tsk,” Loki muttered into your ear. “Such a shame. Who knew you were such a bore?” Loki took the opportunity of your shock to scratch his fingers along the rows of your ribs, making sure to be maddeningly gently. The nails of his fingers were blunt and short but just long enough to create a severe reaction. You didn’t have a chance to stop your giggling, nor the protection to do so. The coat you wore made it nearly impossible to access your own skin underneath the pillowy layers of cotton and nylon. It gave Loki the worst/best opportunity, depending on who’s side you look at it from.

As you fought against Loki’s devious fingers, you began to lose your balance, tripping over your feet and leaning your weight against his back. You opted to keep your head down as to avoid Loki’s gaze, your center of balance shifting off to the side. Loki was caught off guard by the sudden shift in weight. Had his hands been free, there may have been a possibility he could have saved you both, but instead, you dragged him down with you, your feet slipping on the wet grass with ease. You both fell with hard thuds, but Loki kept his grip around your body. Immediately, you felt the damp grass seep into your jeans, and you scrambled to push yourself up. The freezing sloppy wetness of the fabric against your skin made you instantly uncomfortable. However, Loki didn’t make any motion to move and instead squeezed you tighter against his body. Unfortunately for you, you had noticed your messy clothes before seeing how Loki had ensnared you. When you fell, Loki had been the first to prepare. He intertwined his legs between and around yours, locking your lower body in place. You knew with Loki had a purpose for just about every move he made. This move, however, was just a little bit scarier. Your right side was pressed into the grass, Loki mirroring you behind your back. However, his arms were still wrapped around your torso. You had your hands to move, but the position was impossible to wriggle out of, considering his leverage on you.

You gasped at the crisp morning dew against your neck. “Shit!” You attempted to pull your legs out from Loki’s legs but found your effort fruitless. You groaned and shouted his name before shifting your arms behind you to push at his abdomen. At this moment, Loki’s fingers sprung back into life, digging into the spaces between your ribs. You let out a scream before dissolving into frantic chortling, snapping your arms back to your sides. “WAIHAIHAIT LOHOKI! CUT IT OHOUT!”

“(Y/N), I’d like to make a little bet with you,” Loki said, mischief classically dripping from his lips. All the while, he never stopped tickling. “If you can get out of my grip, I’ll stop tickling you. You should consider this a gift, love. I’m actually helping you with your training.” He said, vibrating his knuckles into your ribs, making you fall into a new spout of laughter. Though you faced away from him, you could hear the smile on his lips through his words.

You strained against his dancing fingers, twisting and turning your body as much as you could. Your nerves felt as if they had sparks flowing through them like little tickly bolts of lightning under your skin. It was unbearable. Given the fact that it had been a few weeks since your fiasco with Loki in the gym, you had since forgotten about him knowing just how ticklish you really were. This was his reminder. “Whahaht’s even in it for mehehehe?!” You yelled.

“My dear, nothing is in it for you. Look at the position I have you in. You’re helpless,” Loki made a point of jumping his fingers up to your armpits, making you tighten your arms down and fall into deep belly laughs. “Whoops, bad spot, is it?” Loki teased, digging his fingers a little bit harder into the creases of your underarms.

“YEHEHES, LOKI! STOHOHOP PLEHEHEASE!” You squealed and against his frame.

“My apologies,” Loki stilled his fingers but made no effort to move his hands. Instead, he stayed there, occasionally twitching to keep you on a desperate edge. “I have no intentions of breaking you just yet.” He mentioned casually. Hearing those words made a stone fall in the path of all of your thoughts. You stammered and giggled, which didn’t make you sound as intimidating as you were trying to be. You knew that Loki was playing a game with you. However, you had no legitimate way of denying his requests. He was right; you were entirely at his mercy. You silently thanked yourself for not having any “run-ins” with the God for the past few days. Anything that you may have done to pester Loki would have been taken out on you at this moment as ramifications. Although, this wasn’t any revenge. This was the God of Mischief being the God of Mischief. “Here are the rules --- you escape me, I stop this needless torture. What say you?” He grinned and pressed his chin down into the side of your neck.

“This seems awfully one-sided,” you complained, tugging at your leg to test its give.

“And you seem awfully ungrateful for such a marvelous opportunity. Oh well,” Loki thrust his legs weight upwards, thus dragging yours along for the ride. He rolled his body on top of you with alarming speed, shoving your shoulders into the ground. He removed his hands from under your coat, using them now to fight with you for your hands. Your face was soaked wet from the dew of the grass, and your clothes had pretty much followed suit. He had successfully (and relatively quickly) pinned you beneath his legs. “I suppose since you never agreed, we never had a deal. Which means I can continue even if you escape.”

“Loki---”

Loki groaned obnoxiously. “Loki this Loki that. If you keep saying my name, I’d have to assume you were in love with me. Though, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be in the first place.” You heard Loki’s fiendish smile gracing his words.

“God, you are insufferable,” You shook your head against the wet grass. Part of you wondered if grass stains were easy to get out, like they said in commercials.

“All in a day’s work,” Loki grinned. As if your predicament couldn’t get much worse, he had managed to catch your wrist in a desperate attempt of yours to undo his hold. After Loki had successfully fought you for both wrists and prevailed, he chuckled. “Let’s spice things up, shall we?” Loki squeezed both of your wrists, a fluttery, almost tingly feeling enveloping them.

It felt similar to the static you get in your feet when they fall asleep, but something less annoying. The buzzing spread from the tips of your fingers to the crease of your elbow. As the buzzing feeling finally stopped, you noticed that it also came with a strange sense of paralysis. You tugged your bicep against the feeling but quickly found that your arms were stuck above your head. With Loki sitting on your hips, that didn’t leave you in a great spot. Your heart rate began to climb. The little bugger was using his powers. Your adrenaline piqued, and you started giggling simply out of anticipation. “WAHAIT! This is cheating!”

“I was never really one for playing by the rules,” Loki pointed out.

Something else struck you as odd, however. You were pretty noticeably shivering in your damp clothes against the fall air, but Loki, even though his clothes were in the same condition, looked content. “Wait, aren’t you cold? It’s freezing out, and you’re soaked.”

He dipped his chin and chuckled. “Frost giant, love. Allow me to demonstrate,” with that, he resumed his antics. He slithered his fingers underneath your coat and clothes again, latching his icy digits into the meat of your hips. You let out a startled yelp and did your best to busk your hips as much as you could. With your chest to the ground, it made it nearly impossible for you to move even left or right, let alone up and down. With someone sitting on top of you, the chances of that happening go down significantly. As if him simply tickling you couldn’t be worse, the temperature of his hands made the feelings so much more intense. You broke out into a desperate cackle, jumping as his fingers began to dance along your midsection. With each flittering little movement, your laughter changed, switching from frantic giggles to hearty belly laughs. You squirmed and fought against the electric feelings against you. There was something about Loki that made him a disturbingly good tickler. He was specific in his movements, listening to the spots that really made his victim crack up. If an area didn’t satisfy him the way he wanted it, he would switch techniques or places. But by God, every last spot you had, he found the way to make you beg. It had gotten to the point where Loki had one hand in your armpit and another digging into a susceptible spot on your back, but the rest of you still felt his touch.

“LOHOHOKIHI I CAHAHAN’T BREHEHEATHE!” you barked, gasping desperately for air as he slowed his touch.

He hummed in triumph. “For your information, that was revenge for the other week during training.”

“Whahahat?” You cleared your throat. “You literally won. What would you need revenge for?”

“Perhaps you don’t remember your little move at the beginning of the round. The one where you caused me to fall,” Loki said, emphasizing his point by digging his fingers in your armpits. Even through the jacket, he had made it tickle. “Can’t let that confidence get too out of hand, now can we?”

You smirked, feeling a little bold despite your position. “What, like yours? Fat chance there,”

Loki let out a low and breathy laugh. “I advise you to watch your tone when you speak to me.”

You were too exhausted to put up any more of a fight against Loki. Your muscles ached from your training, and the tickling had only made your fatigue worse. You coughed out a short laugh and tugged on your arms. “Fine, but can you please let me go now?”

Loki smiled and stepped off of you, and snapped his fingers. As abruptly as the feeling had started, the feeling washed away from your arms. You shook your head and pushed yourself off the ground, smiling at him.

You would never tell him simply because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Still, you had seen him around the tower making little attempts to incorporate himself into the group, especially if you were there. While you would make yourself food or be simply enjoying a book, you would occasionally catch a glimpse of his long black hair disappearing around a corner. To be honest, you were grateful that Loki had grown more curious of you rather than any adverse reactions like you had feared in the beginning. The truth was that Loki was appreciative to finally have a friend in the group. Someone who didn’t make him feel so outcasted. Being a part of the Avengers, especially for previously villainous ones, was tiresome and, more often than not, lonely. Whether the truth would come out or not, you two had felt comfort in each other’s presence. It was an obvious connection that both you and he were interested in exploring.

#lokixreader #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #Ler!Loki #Ticklish!Reader #Tickle fic #Avengers tickle fic #Loki tickle fic #Loki laufeyson tickle fic #Reader insert #avengers reader insert

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themand0lorian · 3 years

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Impression, Sunrise-Part 8

Summary: The custody hearing comes, and a new path of your life begins.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG-13/a mild M (nondescript/suggestive sexual content)

Words: ~5000 (Read on AO3)

Tags: Idiots to lovers, nondescript/suggestive sexual content, happy endings, heavy-handed art references, spoilers for various romance movies (I linked each scene with the line associated if you really wanna be ~immersed~, I know not everyone is as into romance movies as me), Miller’s back but less of an ass, FEELINGS

Notes: This is the last part of the main series! I have several short, slice-of-life/one-shots planned, some that take place in the timeline of the story and some that are after, but with no specific time plan in mind for posting. These will also likely be posted out of order, as the inspiration hits.

Anyway, THANK YOU to everyone for your support during this story! This is one of my first interactions with fandom on a long-term basis, and I can’t express how much I loved hearing from you, talking with you, etc!

TAGLIST for this story is closed, since it is over! Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in my random one-shots and I will remove you! Otherwise, you can sign up for my main taglist in my sidebar!

Taglist:@sugarontherims @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @seasonschange-butpeopledont @imaginecrushes @giselatropicana @agingerindenial @supernaturalgirl @captain-jebi @lou-la-lou @pascalsimp @antisocialthat70sshow @dragcn-queen @sambucky21 @farfromjustordinary @fangirl-of-randomness @evelynseventyr @aquilacorvinal @uncle-kenobi @marydjarin @tanzthompson @elinedjarin @thewintersoldierswife @knowledgefulbutterfly @amneris21 @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cinewhore @sarahjkl82-blog

On Monday, you put in your request for transfer to Cyber Crimes; same hours, same office but one floor up from Art Theft, and honestly, much more in your wheelhouse. You had resisted moving for so long out of loyalty to Marcus, but one look at Miller sneering at you confirms it’s the right choice. Carson seems to smirk knowingly at your joined entrance, nodding in approval before looking back to his desk.

Your transfer is accepted within the week, your new team ready for the help on their current case. You’re pleased to find your new boss is a woman, a healthy mix of both genders throughout the team. Everyone seems cordial and friendly, and Marcus helps you bring your things up to your new desk, placing down the box before squeezing your hand tightly and making his way back down to his office. You’re able to dive right in, another Immigration case coming across your desk that sends a pang through your heart at the memory of Grace and Eli.

You and Marcus debate calling Lisa several times over the next few weeks, but also remember how busy you had been with the kids at first, and decide against it until she can get into a better routine. You know she may be struggling as a new single parent of two and so you don’t bother her, despite how desperately you both wanted to know about Eli’s new preschool and if Grace said her first word.

Instead, you and Marcus fall fully into each other. You knew each other as agents, as coworkers, as parents, but it was time to know each other as a couple. Calling Marcus your “boyfriend” after everything you went through together didn’t seem like enough; you felt like you had known him forever. You found his phone background--the picture of you—and melted, he found your stash of pancake mix for when he was out of town hidden in the recesses of the cabinet, making him smirk. Every little detail, every idiosyncrasy brought a warmth to your heart you didn’t know was missing. It was undeniable, and even though Marcus said he moved too fast, you were ready to play fast and loose; Marcus was your person.

He showered you in adoration at any chance he got, and you tried your best to do the same; quick messages from his work computer about something that made him think of you, a dumb string of emojis sent to his work phone that takes him all day to figure out, until you cave and tell him (“Eggplant, water droplets, tongue-sticking-out? What does that mean?” turned into a show rather than a tell). A granola bar and a coffee appearing on your desk after a long meeting, his favorite takeout from across town being brought home for dinner.

He watches your “trash” romance movies, and you ignore the tears that fall and the way he squeezes you a bit tighter during the particularly emotional scenes. You cuddle into him further when he murmurs into your ear “That’s how I feel about you,” when Mr. Darcy announces “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love…I love…I love you.” Place a small kiss to the corner of his mouth when he catches you watching him when Noah tells Allie, “I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.” His nose presses into your hair, lips finding the crown of your head when Sam tells the radio doctor, “I knew it the very first time I touched her. It was like coming home...”

You never make it to Blaine’s “Here’s looking at you, kid,” after that first time you watched it together; tuning into each other was more interesting than the movie at hand, and you’re both left tangled and panting by the time Ilsa gets to the airstrip, but something tells you that just increases Marcus’ enjoyment of his favorite movie.

Though you seem to have stepped out of a romcom yourselves, the weight of the upcoming custody hearing tinges everything with an air of melancholy. You and Marcus will need to testify, to tell the judge how you found Eli and Grace and to explain any questions they have on the Bennetts’ involvement with Stanford. You will probably have to explain what happened to land Grace in the hospital, and Marcus assures you that it’s procedural and not because you did anything wrong, but guilt gnaws at you like an incessant tide.

The night before the hearing, Marcus finds you standing in the kitchen, leaning heavily on the counter staring out the window over the sink. Dark clouds have rolled in overnight, blocking the moonlight; your figure is only illuminated by the clock on the microwave, reading 3:13. He approaches slowly, pressing himself into your back and wrapping his arms over your shoulders to press a kiss to your temple when you startle at his presence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper, not looking to him.

“You didn’t, just noticed you weren’t holding me like a koala and came to find you,” he murmurs sleepily into your hair. You let out a small chuckle, looking down to your hands.

“I just miss them, you know?”

“Yeah, I miss them too,” he replies, and turns you toward him for a real hug. The counter is cutting into your hips as he presses into you, sleepily nuzzling your neck.

“It just…it feels so final,” you speak softly into his shirt, and he pulls you away from the counter, like you could get any closer. He starts to drowsily sway you back and forth as he speaks.

“I know. It’s not going to be easy. But it’s the right thing to do,” he hums, and you nod into his shoulder. He keeps swaying you there, like some tune only he can hear is playing, until he starts to hum it aloud softly. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

“Are you trying to sing me to sleep like the baby?” you chuckle, and he stops you from pulling back; instead, you lean into his rumbling chest further as he continues to sway you.

“That depends, is it working?”

The next morning, you’re standing outside of the courthouse, Marcus at your side holding a much-too-small umbrella between you both as you cup his bicep tightly. You’re tired after the night before, but you had to give it to Marcus; his humming made you drowsy, and he pulled you into bed as soon as you let out a yawn. Once out of the rain, he immediately grabs and squeezes your hand, trying to remain strong for you both before pulling you into the small courtroom.

It’s bare other than a few chairs and a podium at the front; several people, lawyers by the looks of them as well as Andrea, the CPS agent, gather toward the front, but your eyes immediately go to the bobbing head of curls running your way. Eli crashes into Marcus’ legs with a hug, and you feel his heart break through your combined hands, so you squeeze his tightly. Eli is hurriedly telling you both about everything you’ve missed in the past few weeks, looking sharp in a wrinkled collared shirt and khakis held up with little suspenders. Lisa makes her way over with Gracie; she’s wearing the tiny frilly dress you had found on your first trip with them, and Marcus squeezes your hand back when you notice it.

“He hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Lisa chuckles. She looks exhausted, like her knees may give out any moment, and overall, somewhat sickly, looking older than her years after only a few weeks. She’s pale and frazzled, and when she hands you Grace, she seems almost relieved to let her go. Before you can ask her if she’s okay, a judge calls the room to order and you find your seats in the gallery; Eli, Grace and Lisa sitting in the front.

The judge drones about a few definitions and rules, the kids getting antsy as he speaks. You want to give Eli the pen and paper in your bag to occupy him but think better against it, and he pulls out a few toys from a bag on the floor to stay busy. Andrea speaks first, outlining the children’s case, and the circumstances under which you and Marcus, followed by Lisa, took them on. The judge only nods as she speaks, and soon Marcus is called up to explain your sides of the story, and his hand leaving yours feels like he’s pulled your heart to the stand with him. He testifies with practiced ease, which you envy; even explaining the short hospital visit so you wouldn’t have to. Your heart bursts for the man, and when he’s finally dismissed back to his seat, you grab his hand as quickly as possible, lamenting the loss of it while he was testifying.

The judge determines Marcus’ explanation sufficient, and so you don’t end up taking the stand; you wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse. You want this to be over, but the sooner it’s over, the sooner these kids walk out of your life, and Marcus seems to feel that too. You both watch on intently as Lisa takes the stand, the judge asking her a few preliminary questions before getting to the point.

“Are you willing and able to take full custody of Grace and Elijah Bennett on behalf of your deceased sister and brother-in-law, Kerry Bennett-Spencer and Logan Bennett?”

“No,” Lisa replies softly, and it feels like your heart has been expelled from your body. The kids are busy with a book Eli found, unaware of the piercing quiet that’s fallen over the room as the lawyers look to each other. You look to Marcus, his mouth hanging open slightly, but he doesn’t look away from Lisa, and you turn your attention back to her when she speaks again.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I cannot provide for them the way they need. I—I love these kids, but I cannot take custody of them. The past few weeks have shown me that.”

“Then you would like to sign them over as wards to the State?” the Judge asks, seemingly shocked himself.

“No,” she says calmly. “No—I—I would like to sign them back over to the agents, if they would be willing,” she continues, looking to you. Both you and Marcus are gaping at her, and the Judge looks to you before looking back at her.

“Ma’am, are you under any state of duress right now?”

“No,” she almost laughs, and your mind is barely taking in the words. “I am not under duress. I want what’s best for these kids, my sister’s kids. And that’s with them. They love Grace and Eli like they are their own, and they are much better at this than I am. This is what Kerry and Logan would have wanted for them.” A chatter falls over the room until the judge bangs his gavel, demanding order before dismissing Lisa from the stand. You watch her retreat with wide eyes, only compelled to look away when the judge calls for your attention.

“Would you both approach, please,” he asks calmly, and you look to Marcus for reassurance before standing up. You pass a glance at Lisa, and she looks almost sheepish before you turn away. Marcus leads you up to the podium, both of you at face level with the top to look up at the judge as he speaks in hushed tones.

“I understand you saved these children, and have both taken repeated and consistent interest on the children’s behalf.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” you both respond almost in unison. The man regards you again before speaking.

“Now, this is unconventional, but I can see through your testimony and interactions how you care for them. Would you be willing to take on Grace and Elijah as their foster parents? If you agree, I will order you both as custodial parents for one year, after which you would be given the option to permanently adopt Grace and Elijah.” You whip your head to Marcus, who is already looking dumbfounded. You can’t bring yourself to speak, overwhelmed by what’s happening, and Marcus looks to you before opening his mouth.

“Can we ask Eli?” The judge nods, calling his name in the direction of the boy, who looks confusedly from his book.

“Elijah, your Aunt Lisa is no longer able to care for you,” he sounds so cold, and you watch Eli’s face twist as he takes in the words; you want to rush over and snatch him up, comfort him, but you stop yourself. Before the judge can ask anything, Eli interrupts him.

“Can I go back to living with the police then?” You both chuckle, but it only eggs Eli on, and he approaches you both. “They aren’t my Mommy and Daddy, but they act like them sometimes. Especially when Marcus burns the pancakes,” he crinkles his face, and a soft chuckle falls over the room as he grabs your hand. “And sometimes they put me in Time Out, but that’s okay, because I was mean and I lied. I said I hate them, but I love them.” Your heart seems to clench in your throat, as Eli puts his other hand into Marcus’. “I want to live with them forever.” You make eye contact with Marcus before turning back to the judge, squeezing Eli’s hand lightly as Marcus speaks.

“Then yes, we will take them on as their custodial parents,” he replies firmly, sneaking a glance to you as you nod in agreement.

“Then it’s settled. Grace and Elijah Bennett will be released to the agents under the previous terms, starting today. Andrea will stay on as the case worker until one year has passed, and the arrangement will be reexamined for permanent adoption. Dismissed,” the judge says, banging the gavel again.

You hadn’t realized, but you’re crying, and Marcus grabs your shoulders to bring you to him, sniffling as well. Eli is trapped between your legs, watching as you sob tears of joy into each other until he can worm his way free.

“If you don’t want to be my Mommy and Daddy that’s okay,” he says, dejected. “You don’t have to cry about it.”

“No, Eli—we’re happy. We really, really want to be your Mommy and Daddy--we’re crying because we’re happy, so happy,” you explain, kneeling to his level to bring him into a hug. At that, Grace waddles over to your other side to join in, and just like Marcus’ lock screen, you’re framed by two little heads. But this time, instead of digital pictures, you’re real, you’re in front of him, and he falls to his knees too, wrapping his arms around the three of you like he had wanted to on that plane. When you break apart, Lisa is standing there, looking relieved.

“I’m sorry, Agents. I—I wanted to tell you. From the start. But everything with them was so crazy and I thought I could do it and I just can’t. I see how much you love them, this is what’s best for them,” she says almost wistfully.

“Please, Lisa. Please tell us you will visit, whenever you want, we want you in their lives,” you practically beg, and she seems to perk up.

“Of course. Now let’s get all this baby stuff out of my apartment,” she almost jokes, and you snort into Eli’s hair, grateful to have him at your side again. Grace is in Marcus’ arms, and she quickly reaches out to grab his hooked nose in her tiny fist.

“Dada?” she asks softly, and you both freeze, eyes wide. You stand slowly, like you might disrupt the moment if you move too fast.

“Dada!” she repeats again more eagerly, pushing her grimy hands into Marcus’ face. You look to Lisa, who looks equally as shocked.

“Has she—”

“She never—”

“That was her first word?” Marcus is the first one to get the complete thought out, the three adults nodding between themselves.

“Dada, dada, dada!” Grace chimes, as if she understood his question. You practically barrel into Marcus, grinning broadly as fresh tears start to fall. Even Lisa looks emotional, but nothing compares to Marcus’ face as he looks at the little girl. Adoration, reverence, disbelief, love all swirl behind his eyes, finally allowing his own tears to fall, which Grace quickly smears across his cheek. You give him a quick peck in their wake, but he turns to you fully, allowing a prolonged kiss to try to express the feelings in his chest, and somehow, you feel them too.

“Ew! Gross!” Eli exclaims, and Lisa chuckles, causing you to pull apart. You only stick your tongue out at Eli playfully, taking his hand to lead your newly formed family out of the courthouse.

It doesn’t take long for the avalanche of baby items to make its way back to Marcus’ townhouse; Lisa is ready to go back to her old life, and honestly, you can’t blame her. You’re ready to go back to yours, too; only yours has two adorable kids and Marcus at your side. Later in the week, you and Marcus help her pack up the kids’ stuff. You can’t help but notice the white couch looking a bit worse for wear, the shag carpet caked in green goo, the stray crayon marks on the wall—she’s been put through the ringer, but she still agrees to a family dinner twice a month, and one “Aunt Lisa Day,” aptly named by Eli for a day where she gets the kids to herself. She even offers babysitting “any time,” passing you a knowing glance when your cheeks begin to heat.

By the time you’ve said your goodbyes and get back to Marcus’, Eli practically barrels past you and dives into his old bedroom with a happy yell. You can’t help but to laugh at his antics, Marcus pulling you into his side for a one-armed hug and a kiss to your temple as his other arm holds Gracie. The grin across his face is electric, splitting so wide it makes your cheeks hurt to look at, until you realize your matching one is likely to blame.

You easily fall back into your routine with the kids back in your care, adding the additional loving touches and words you were too afraid to act on before. It’s all unbearably normal, serene, domestic; the life Marcus had dreamed of when he came to DC, though finally with the right person at his side. Eli insists on pancakes for every meal, Grace continues to shove every loose object she touches into her mouth, Marcus can’t keep his hands off of you any chance he gets, and you…you’re just happy.

Grace’s first birthday sneaks up on you, in the craziness of moving the kids back to your place and reestablishing schedules and preschool playdates, and you manage to throw together a small outdoor barbecue at the park. It’s the same place Marcus found you that day, when the Bennetts were found, but it couldn’t feel more different. The cherry blossoms have long-since fallen to give way to bright green leaves, Grace is able to haphazardly walk through the tall grass with the other kids, but most of all, the mood is joyous. It’s finally the cusp of summer, warm and sunny as you almost parade Grace around to the guests, showing off the dress and ruffled shorts combo you put together for the occasion and her wobbly legs when she tries to run with the other kids. Lisa watches from the sidelines, immediately welcomed by some of your friends from your new department as they discuss more adult, child-free topics over wine spritzers at the picnic tables. Eli and Emmie sprint through the sporadic tree trunks, Alex hot on their heels as he tries to keep up and Mike watching fondly from his place as sous-chef next to the grill, beer in hand as he chats with Marcus, who has focused so hard on not burning the hot dogs he barely notices you approach and Mike walk off from over the smoke.

You have Grace on your hip, just like that day you found them on the raid, and his attention is completely shifted when you peck him on the cheek, face reddening.

“Do you see that?” you murmur into his ear, and he finally turns to look past the grill. You’re both looking at Miller, approaching from the parking lot but still at a considerable distance, looking sure of himself.

“Oh, God. What…is that?” he asks, and you can’t help but release a hearty laugh. Miller’s driving a miniature motorized car in front of him with a big red bow on the hood, which you can’t help but think is meant for children much older than either of yours. Once he finally reaches you both, he eagerly greets Marcus and more sheepishly greets you, almost immediately focusing his attention completely on Grace, as he coos and fawns over her like a newborn. You can’t help but share a look to Marcus over her shoulder when Miller grabs her and puts her in the car, insisting it’s her present despite the fact that she’s probably 4 years too small for it. Marcus looks horrified, no doubt every safety concern crossing his mind at once over the ridiculous gift, but you watch as she gleefully honks the little horn and Marcus pulls you closer to his side. You lean onto Marcus’ shoulder to watch Miller teach Grace the controls, like she could even reach the pedals, before Marcus grumbles into the crown of your head.

“We’re returning that.”

“Of course, boss,” you chuckle, pulling away from embrace. “By the way, I think your hot dogs are burning.”

“Shit!” A little voice cuts through the smoke in response to his curse.

“Marcus! No bad words!”

One Year Later

A lot has changed in one year, and somehow, everything is the same. A new house, with one room painted baby pink and one painted light green, with one left white to spare; a big backyard full of multicolored playground fixtures and a well-used motorized car; a kitchen with fridge covered in drawings done by multiple “artists,” some more artful than others. A delicate ring on your finger, which you worried may be heavy and cumbersome but instead makes you feel the lightest you’ve ever felt; a well-organized binder of wedding ideas long abandoned and covered in marker scribbles. A set of sure feet attached to a meek almost-two-year-old, whose greatest comfort still lies in Marcus’ arms and her pesky pacifier you can’t get her to shake. A rambunctious four-year-old ready to start Pre-K, but only after he gets his pancakes in the morning and forces you to text Emmie (via Mike or Alex) to make sure one more time that they’re in the same class.

And finally there’s Marcus; sweet, silly, loveable Marcus. Your relationship has only gotten stronger in the past year, blowing past “moving too fast” to “moving just right,” if the ring on your finger is anything to go by. He’s a model dad to the kids, always patient, stern when he needs to be. One disappointed look or mention of “the right thing” gets Eli into a tailspin of apologies for whatever minor transgression he passed. He chases the kids endlessly, teaching and playing and just being with them; always a little protective, but so full of love you think he might burst.

You might burst, too, every time he steals a glance at you with that same broad grin, brighter than the sun; every time you fall into bed at night, every murmur of “I love you” into your skin. “Kid” has turned into “Baby,” “sweetheart,” or--you think this one is his favorite, which is good, because it’s yours too—“sunshine.” It’s unbelievably clear how happy he is, how happy you are, how much love is in your little found family. It’s hard to imagine that, a year ago, Marcus was hiding himself, mourning a loss of what could have been, when right in front of him was everything he ever wanted.

The next court date is quickly approaching, and though you have discussed it endlessly with each other, you figure you owe it to Grace and Eli to ask their opinions on staying with you. They still see Lisa twice a month, with an additional “Aunt Lisa Day” thrown in and some sporadic babysitting for date nights, but both kids have grown into such happy, healthy little people that it’s hard to imagine them anywhere else.

Marcus takes you all to the Smithsonian, at Eli’s request, after being told so many times that his drawings were fit for a museum. They litter every surface of the house, Marcus’ office, your desk; family portraits, Pollock-esque scribbles, dogs and cats and frogs, and Marcus wants to show him where his art can take him if he keeps at it; ever the doting father, insisting his child is meant for greatness.

You move through the artwork slowly, letting Eli ask questions about each piece, watching as his eyes light up at an abstract painting he insists looks like one he made last week (it does) and as he turns wearily from a portrait of a twisted face that was “too scary” (it was). Grace grasps Marcus tightly; almost too big to be held, you’re unsure if it’s Marcus who’s unwilling to let go or her, but you don’t say anything as you walk hand in hand through the exhibits. After dragging Eli away, you come to rest on a bench in the center of the room to give the kids a snack and a break before you continue.

In front of you is a smaller painting, covered in swaths of blues and greens. You stare at it a long time; it’s an ocean, you think; shadows of boats and people drifting among the waves, distant structures clouded in darker colors. In the middle is a prominent red sun, striking among the blues and reflecting off the waves. You had never been one for art, but this one seems to speak differently to you. A sunrise, you think; the start of a new beginning. When you look to Marcus, he’s finished handing out Cheerios and sippy cups, and instead is looking at you.

“You know what that one is?” You hum a negative response. “Impression, Sunrise.” You practically snort a chuckle, and he laughs too, looking to Grace and Eli between you who are happily babbling to each other.

“Hey, guys? We need to ask you something, okay?” Marcus asks, and both of them snap their attention to him. “Do you remember Miss Andrea and seeing the judge last year? It’s almost time for us to go back to talk to them, and they’re going to ask us if we want to adopt you permanently.”

“We can live with you forever?” Eli asks, crumbs of Cheerios falling from his mouth.

“If you want to, yeah, but it’s your decision,” you add, and he seems to think it over pensively before Grace speaks up.

“Mommy?” She says, pointing to you, then turns to Marcus. “Dada? Live with Mommy and Dada.” You share a smile with Marcus, the both of you somehow in tune with two-year-old nonsenses; her choice seemed to be made. Grace had been calling you and Marcus “Mommy” and “Dada” since she started talking; you were unsure how much she really understood of her past, but made sure she knew Kerry and Logan as Mommy and Daddy as well, showing her pictures and having Lisa share stories of her biological parents. Eli had stuck to calling you by first names, reserving “Mommy and Daddy” for his first parents, which you didn’t object to.

“If Grace wants to stay, then I want to stay, too,” Eli says quickly behind her.

“You know it’s forever, right Eli? It’ll be just like it is now, with Lisa coming to visit, but you’ll be--” you start, but he interrupts you.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, turning innocent eyes between you both.

“Of course, buddy. You can ask us anything.”

“Can I start to call you Mom and Dad like Gracie? I miss Mommy and Daddy, but I know they’re not coming back anymore. I love you and you treat me like they did, I think. So I want to stay with you. As my Mom and Dad.” You and Marcus exchange an excited, emotionally charged look over their heads, that same split smile crossing his features when he looks back at the kids, now done with their snacks.

“Well, that’s settled then. You’re stuck with us. Forever,” he jokes, making a silly voice on the last word and grabbing Grace to tickle her sides. She shrieks in laughter, and Eli giggles too as you hold him close to your chest; other patrons of the museum are staring, but you couldn’t care less, content with your little family bubble.

“Can I ask you something else? Since you’re my Mom and Dad?” Eli asks once Grace has settled in Marcus’ lap.

“What’s up, bud?” Eli looks nervously to his side, then points at the painting there. It’s a portrait of the Madonna, with Jesus and Saint John as babies at her feet.

“Why are their pee pees out?!” He half-whispers, half-yells in disbelief, and you can’t help but burst into laughter at his interpretation of the classic piece, thinking he may be a little more like you than Marcus when it comes to art appreciation.

“This one’s all you, Dad,” you chuckle, and Marcus shakes his head at you, chuckling as well. You look back to Impression, Sunrise as Marcus stutters through an explanation, smiling to yourself. Marcus may sing You Are My Sunshine, but to you, in this new beginning, he’s the red sun at the center of it all.

#impression sunrise #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction

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sharkbait77 · 3 years

Text

Straight From The Horse's Mouth (Marcus Pike x gn!Reader)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Y'all... For once I get to say none lol I mean look at the rating 😅 I guess some slight anxiety & smooches, I didn't even curse omg who am I 🤣 just fluff here bc I think we could all use it nowadays

W/C: 1.4k

A/N: Writer Wednesday!! 🥰 Was missing my Marcus baby after The Singer 😭 I'm not entirely sure how proud I am of this bc I was like half asleep but I'm throwing it into the pit anyway lol also very special shoutout/thank you to my wife @asta-lily for naming this fic for me bc my brain was too tired 🥺♥️ hope y'all like it! As always, thank you @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape for keeping us involved & motivated to write! ♥️

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"C'mon, baby, please?"

"I-I don't know honey, I'm sorry, but I don't know the first thing about riding," Marcus stutters as he keeps his eyes on the majestic beast behind you.

"There's nothing to it! First things first, you gotta settle down, they can sense fear," you step forward to place your hands on his chest, the racing of his heart thumping against your palms.

Marcus Pike was not afraid to try anything new, but when it comes to something as adventurous as this, he prefers a controlled environment for the first go. Skydiving? Sure, as long as he gets a feel for it in one of those wind tunnels beforehand. Rock climbing? Absolutely, as long as he builds the strength for it and trains at a rock climbing gym. A horse trainer in a fenced-off field, for example, would settle his nerves in this particular instance.

"I just don't think it'll be a good idea, I'm too nervous and I don't know what to do, the last thing I want is to go flying off a cliff," he frowns at you.

The two of you have only been dating for six months, but your relationship is definitely on the fast track. You had already felt comfortable and secure enough with him to invite him back home to Arizona for the summer and he hates feeling like he's letting you down, especially being in your hometown. But the way you look up at him with those caring eyes, no judgement or anger at all present, he almost lets his true feelings for you slip.

"Okay Marcus, I won't push you to do anything you're not comfortable with," you smile, gliding your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck and you pull him closer to you for a kiss. "Hey, would you feel better...riding with me?" You ask cautiously and he winces.

"Is my FBI man really afraid of a sweet, little horse?” You tease and stick your bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout.

"Okay, first of all, ouch," he laughs and shoves his face into your neck, his nose digging into your pulse point and tickling you. "Second of all, she is not little, alright? And she doesn't know me, I'll probably spook her."

"Look, do you trust me?" You ask and he pulls away to look at you.

"Yeah sweetie, of course I do," he smiles and kisses your cheek.

"Okay, well I've been riding since I was twelve, and I've had Melody girl since I was thirteen. I trust her more than anyone."

"Oh really? More than me?" Marcus smirks and raises an eyebrow.

"Depends on the situation," you tease again and laugh as he digs his fingers gently into your side to tickle you. He pulls away quickly though, his eyes immediately shooting back up to the brown and white mare as she huffs a breath, having been startled slightly by your laugh.

"Okay, I won't ask anymore," you continue as you look at Marcus's scared face. "I'll just go riding alone," you pull away from him. "All alone," you turn around to reach a hand out to calm down Melody. "All by my lonesome."

"Okay, okay, fine," Marcus chuckles as he gives in. He's so screwed if he can't say no to you, even if he is scared shitless. Anything to see that bright smile.

"Yay!" You cheer, not as emphatic as you normally would so Melody doesn't startle again. "You're going to love it. There's nothing like this feeling."

~ ~ ~

After you promised a few minutes of riding around the stables on your family's land just so Marcus could get the feel for it, he felt comfortable enough to let you take him out to the desert. You certainly know what you're doing and, as time went on, he fully relaxed on Melody's back, focusing instead on the weight of your body pressed into his.

"You doing okay back there? You're not gonna throw up, are you?" You ask, chuckling the last part of your question.

"No, I am not going to throw up," he laughs and you lean your head back against his shoulder briefly before straightening again to keep your focus. "But… I have to admit you were right. This does feel great."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, babe," you smile widely, causing Marcus to do the same as he hears the grin in your voice. He's only sorry that he's not looking directly at it.

You continue riding, slow and steady, while Marcus leans forward to rest his chin on your shoulder and he rubs your thighs softly and lovingly with his hands. It truly is an experience like none other he's had; there's something magical in feeling the heartbeat and breathing of the mare under his legs, riding one of the world's gentlest creatures, just like they used to – probably exactly where you're riding – once upon a time. He knows he'll have to bring up the idea of taking on horse riding as a regular hobby with you once you get back home.

Although he likes that idea, he knows the fenced-off field you'll end up having to ride in won't satisfy the feeling of being out in the open like this. Arizona is truly a sight of wonder, the red rocks and monoliths spanning out so far ahead against a pale blue sky that Marcus feels like he's staring at a painting instead.

The heated air actually feels pleasant against his face, perhaps due to the motion of the horse creating a larger breeze than it would if he were walking. All with the one he loves in his arms. Though he hasn't admitted that to you yet.

"Thank you for convincing me," he murmurs in your ear and chuckles in satisfaction at the shiver he feels course through your body.

"Well, thank you for trusting me. For trusting Melody," you smile.

You click your tongue and gently tighten your grip on the saddle with your thighs, pulling slowly on the reins until Melody comes to a full stop.

"Wow…" Marcus sighs, taking in the impressive sights before him.

So many rocks; tall, red formations as large as mountains. He can't help himself and pulls his phone from his pocket to take a picture. The phone camera doesn't do it justice, but he's hoping there will be many more visits to see your family in the future. Maybe even with kids? If he dared look that far ahead.

"Here," you call out, turning your body just enough to hold out your hand. He assumes you mean his phone and passes it to you and you open his camera app, changing it to selfie mode. "Smile!"

He grins automatically at your sing-songy tone, his large smile nearly making his eyes shut and you smile just as wide as you snap the photo, capturing the tall monoliths in the background with your silly grins at the forefront.

"I love it," you mutter to yourself while you set it as your contact picture in his phone.

"I love you, too," Marcus sighs.

"Wait, what?" You ask, turning your body as much as you can to look at his face.

"Wait… What?" Marcus flushes red, nearly matching the rock surrounding you.

His eyes go wide as he realizes what he just confessed, what just slipped from the secret safe of his brain and out of his mouth. His heart pounds in his ears and he stutters while you wait for an answer from him.

"Did you just…?" You ask – well, try to ask.

"I-I… Well… Yeah, yes I did," he breathes out, feeling more embarrassed than ever. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. I think I got lost in the moment," he says quietly, hoping you didn't think you were moving too fast in your relationship.

"But did you mean it?" Your voice goes soft and Marcus sighs.

"Yes," he smiles. "Yes I did. I love you," he repeats.

"Marcus," you reach back to grab his hand. "I love you, too."

"Yeah?" He grins and releases a laugh in a breath he had been holding.

He leans forward to kiss your cheek and you turn your head to kiss his lips, holding him in that position to share in this heartfelt moment with him. With the man you love. After only a few seconds, however, Melody neighs and both you and Marcus jump, Marcus wrapping his arms tightly around your waist while you settle Melody down.

"Okay, maybe we should head back now, I just saw my life flash before my eyes," Marcus declares and you laugh, squeezing Melody's sides with your calves to coax her to walk, turning back around towards the way you came.

Tags: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @asta-lily @honeymandos @pascalpanic @aliwritesfic @mandocrasis @hnt-escape @winter-fox-queen @barbossa2319 @sarahjkl82-blog @day-off-inkyoto @pedrocentric @astoryisaloveaffair @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @foli-vora @lucrezia-thoughts @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamer @quica-quica-quica @meesterblack @amandalovess @hunterofartem1s @pedro4ever @mishasminion360 @wardenparker @librariantothejedi @fan-of-encouragement @javierpinme @writeforfandoms @ew-erin @you-got-me-starry-eyed @quietpainter @beskarboobs @andiesturgss @maryfanson @princessxkenobi @castleamc @pbeatriz

Marcus Pike Tags: @rebel-fanfare

#Writer Wednesday #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x gn!reader #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic

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fictitious-little-stitious · 3 years

Text

Denim Pedro credit: @/din-djarins-riduur // Cattle image credit: photograph by A. Nielson // Collage made on Canva (graphic design is my passion)

Hotcakes and Holding Hands: Thursday

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x GN!Reader

Read on AO3

Writer Wednesday 8-25-2021 — I’m late, but go check out this week’s master list! 🤩

@clydesducktape and @autumnleaves1991-blog

Summary: Reader is home on their family’s ranch for Spring Break and is getting to know Jack, a college student working on the ranch. Despite the wintry cold on the prairie, Jack warms Reader’s heart with a sweet surprise. This snippet takes place early early on Thursday.

Word Count: ~1400

Rating: G (the overall story will be PG or PG-13)

Warnings: Food and eating mentions. Working with animals. I can’t think of others, but I will update accordingly if it’s pointed out or I notice something. Mostly just silly fluffy fluff!

A/N: Probably the most self indulgent fic I will ever write. This is either going to be part of a longer oneshot or a set of drabbles, I’ll decide in the car. I’m just going to bask in the miracle that is finishing a fic only 2 days later than I intended to. 😂 You can read a teaser from earlier in the story to see how they met. 🥰 I understand this is pretty niche, but I’m happy to share all the same. Also I’m more than happy to visit about ranch stuff. I included a couple definitions just in case.

~≈~≈~

Thursday

The annoying screech of your alarm put an abrupt halt to what little sleep you did get. As much as you wanted to hit “snooze”, you couldn’t. Jack had been on watch since before midnight. Thankfully the first calf heifers weren’t having many complications this year, but it still required close attention during odd hours in the cold. Some nights would pass without incident while everything and anything could go wrong the next. Such was the nature of this season. Bundled up and flashlight in hand, you set out into the dark. Ignoring your footsteps, you looked up. The moon shone, rendering your flashlight redundant for the short trek to the barn. Countless stars dotted the sky and you banked this memory for when you inevitably returned to the light pollution of your college city. You still had a couple more days of break to enjoy, so you shook that thought away and hurried to Jack.

The tack shed was a base of sorts since your dad fitted it with a space heater and a coffee pot. To him, that was all the creature comforts one could need. Hearing your approach, Sheila perked up from her spot in the snow drift and wagged her stubby tail happily which shook her entire hind end. You figured out early on that wherever Sheila was, Jack would be close. She was your dog, but took to Jack like a shadow. He must have let her out so she could cool down since the tack shed could get pretty toasty. You opened the door the same time Jack was reaching for it from the inside. The two of you exchanged pleasantries and he updated you on what he had done, which pairs bonded okay, and which heifers to check on. As Jack passed, he patted your shoulder in silent gratitude, sleepiness settled his features. It made sense that he was so tired. He had been working these hours for a week before you got home. Sheila had enough alertness for the three of you anyway. She trotted alongside him as he walked back to his bunkhouse for some much needed rest.

You passed the time walking through the manger pens and calving barn. Moving was essential to keep you awake and warm as well as keep a watchful eye on the heifers and new calves. Another task that kept you busy in the down time was reorganizing the tack shed. Old feed bags, bits of twine, and spilled feed littered the floor, making it difficult to find other supplies and tack.

You had just come back in from your first round when suddenly the pitchy whine of a metal gate opening broke your attention and raised the hair up on your neck. You couldn’t see outside for the bright tack shed lights you were under but there was Jack with Sheila hot on his heels, not even gone an hour. He called out your name as he stepped into the shed.

“Jack! I about jumped out of my skin!”

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare ya,” he replied sheepishly.

“What are you doing down here? Nothing’s happened since you left, but I can handle things. Besides, you need some sleep.”

“This was my best chance for the element of surprise. You would’ve wisened up to me later in the day.” Sheila looked up at you both. It seemed she was in on whatever Jack was alluding to.

Not sure what he was on about, you teased. “I should’ve wisened up to you a few days ago. But what would I have wisened up to today?”

“This.” From behind his back, he produced a covered cake pan then overturned a bucket as a makeshift chair.

“Wait here a second,” he guided you by your shoulder to take a seat before placing the pan in your lap, “but don’t open it.” He jogged to the edge of the shed to grab another bucket for his seat. There was not an ounce of tiredness in him, replaced by a refreshed giddiness at this ungodly hour.

Sheila sat beside you and you both watched with intrigue as Jack opened the lid, letting out a ghosting steam into the crisp air. You leaned over to shut the door Jack missed in his excitement. Before it disappeared, you caught a whiff of vanilla. In the pan lay an array of small pancakes, some had a little more griddle time than others. But they were warm and looked delicious.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his breath whisping by like smoke as it took the last of the chill with it, the heater began to rewarm the shed.

You gasped softly. You had forgotten your own birthday. But Jack, the cowboy you knew for less than a week somehow not only knew, but planned and delivered a birthday surprise. Just for you.

A light thud on the floor drew your attention to a red cooler beside Jack. You didn’t even see him bring it in. He proudly gestured to the syrups, butter, and thermos. Jack was basking in your surprise and delight. A quiet whine from Sheila reminded him that there was a hungry party guest waiting on him.

“First things first, candles. Hardly a birthday without ‘em.” He removed his gloves and leaned back so he could unzip his heavy coat. From the chest pocket of his coveralls he pulled out a baggie filled with birthday candles, a lighter, and two forks.

You took off your coat and gloves and looked over the items he brought. “And plates are… where?”

Jack rolled his eyes at himself, “I knew I would forget somethin’, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He made to stand up, but you reached to his knee to still him where he sat. Even through the thick layers of his coveralls, Jack felt your touch as if there were no barriers.

“We can share, I don’t mind,” you reassured him as you balanced the pan on his lap, a poor replacement for your touch. You stepped outside and soon returned dragging in a small square bale and putting it between the bucket seats. His brown eyes shone at you with youthful adoration, causing your cheeks to warm. With a hum, Jack resumed his preparations by sticking candles all over the pancake stack. Intending to speed things along, you reached across to him for some candles but he insisted he had it covered.

Twenty-two thoughtfully placed candles later, it was time to light them up. Mercifully he didn’t insist on singing to you as he lit the candles. It took him a couple tries to get traction on the lighter, but much to his relief you didn’t seem to care. You silently wished the shed lights weren’t so bright. The thought of the soft glow flickering over his features was picturesque.

Jack and Sheila watched in anticipation as you shut your eyes, quickly communicating your wish to whoever or whatever forces were at play, then blew out all candles in one go, save for a stubborn one you got on the second pass. The candles were gathered up and the two of you dug in, making sure to reward Sheila for her polite patience.

You knew your way around pancakes, or hotcakes as your dad called them. And Jack clearly knew his way around a kitchenette. You couldn’t resist humming in satisfaction at the fluffy texture. It wasn’t too much and not too thin.

“Where did you learn to cook so good?” you asked around another mouthful.

“Le Cordon Bleu, since you asked so eloquently. Ranch work is just pocket change during my gap year,” he replied matter of factly.

He made the mistake of meeting your gaze. A beat of silence later and you both erupted into a fit of laughter. Thankfully you had finished your bite, because the snort you unleashed could’ve been so much worse. At that, Jack howled and his cheeks sheened from tears since he was laughing so hard. Sheila yipped at the silly commotion.

When calm resumed, a silent pause settled over as well. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning or you were or both of you were. Volitional or automatic, it didn’t matter, because in a blink your lips were pressed together. His kiss was syrupy sweet, almost as sweet as the grin plastered on his face when you parted. You knew so, because you wore the same look.

When you pulled a hair further back from each other, you saw his cheeks were even rosier. It definitely wasn’t from the cold.

Wish granted.

~≈~

Definitions:

Heifer: a young female cow who hasn’t had her first calf yet

Ranch hand: someone who works on a ranch taking care of livestock and other maintenance chores (e.g. fencing, watering, etc.)

Tag List: let me know if you would like to be added or removed! 🥰

@acrossthesestars

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@mesmorales

@oonajaeadira

@sharkbait77

@songsformonkeys

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#Writer Wednesday #jack daniels #jack daniels au #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #brb gonna go pet a cat or something to calm down #jack daniels fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #this is my writing alright

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