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softpascalito · 5 months

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Raised on little light - 2003!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You don't have anywhere to go on Christmas Eve. Much less anyone to celebrate with. A neighbour down the street turns out to be your personal Christmas miracle.

Relationships: Joel Miller xF! Reader WC: 1500 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Forehead Kisses, First Kiss, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak Joel (The Last of Us), Christmas, Christmas Eve, Author needs therapy (and sleep), domestic abuse Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: hello loves. today is another sad one. please read the tags. the abuse is not very detailed but it's there. this fic is very personal to me and (partly) based on how i spent christmas last year. any comments are very appreciated. i'm sending you all all my love <3 also i wanna mention that this has similar tropes to a longer story idea im working on so feel free to let me know if you like the vibes of this and would like to read more :) title from the song northern attitude by noah kahan and hozier

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

for everyone who has spent christmas alone.

The worst part is the shouting.

You can ignore the passive-aggressive snides, mumbles that reach your ears in passing. You can ignore the absence of the feeling of safety. You have even learned to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach when you apply another layer of concealer.

But the shouting seems to follow you. No matter how many rooms you put in between them and you, the sounds crawl through the house, slipping under doors and into hiding nooks that you’ve long outgrown.

It makes you freeze in your tracks, every time it starts. You stand still for a moment, listening, trying to hear what it is about, how bad it seems. There is always the gnawing fear of them running out of words and turning to actions instead. And despite the fact that you’re a grown adult, that you’re technically not the helpless child you once were, it still scares you like nothing else does.

It’s exhausting to exist in a violent house.

You silently let the front door fall shut behind you, stumbling a little as you make your way to the street. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out into the night without a goal in mind. Just get out of the house.

It’s surprisingly cold for Austin and you draw your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders as you move down the sidewalk. The houses on your street are lit up with Christmas lights, stars dangling in windows, colorful fairy lights wrapped around fences, a lit up reindeer figurine a few houses over.

A truck drives by, the engine humming quietly, before it pulls into a driveway two houses ahead of you. When you pass the house with your head down, the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut makes you jump slightly.

The voice that follows doesn’t.

“That you?”

It only takes Joel a few strides until he’s in front of you, brown eyes searching your body for god knows what. There is a brown paper bag in his hand but you don’t dare lift your head higher to look at his face.

“Whatcha doing out here? Escaping the family gathering?” He jokes lamely, remembering the way he used to sneak off during the holidays if it got too overwhelming.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, trying to put on something resembling a smile. Either it doesn’t work or Joel is too smart to be fooled by it. Because he nods softly, bending his back a little to try and get a look at your face, “Can you look at me for a second, darlin’?”

Oh, he’s so not playing fair. He knows exactly what that nickname does to you, especially coming from him. And he’s shamelessly abusing that.

You swallow, hard and lift your head enough for the porch light to hit you. Joel’s face instantly changes. The somewhat cheerful, joking manner he’d been in a second ago is replaced by concern and something else. Something that almost seems like anger.

He drops the bags of groceries to the floor, bringing both hands up to cup your face. He’s mere inches away when he suddenly stills, eyes softening a bit, “Can I?”

You give a small nod and right away, he closes the distance, turning your head a little to get a better look at the black eye that is undoubtedly getting worse by the second. He should get some credit for not flinching away, you think, for not pretending not to see it like everyone else does.

“You put ice on it or anything?” Joel mutters, his gaze flying over the rest of your neck, clearly checking for more injuries. You barely have time to shake your head no before one hand is on your back, steering you back towards the Miller’s house. “We’ll get you patched up, okay?” Joel asks softly. When he sees your gaze, he adds, “Won’t take long, promise.”

The mood inside the living room could not reflect yours less. There is a bright tree by the window, colorful lights twinkling away. You’re barely inside when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and you stop in your tracks. Of course Sarah would be home. You’ve gotten to know her rather well this year, after she almost failed Biology last year and when Joel mentioned it in passing, you offered to help out.

You don’t plan on letting her see you like this. She’s smart, like her dad and your afraid that just like him, she’ll know instantly what’s going on.

Joel tugs on your sleeve, motioning for you to stay. Then he turns the corner, catching Sarah at the foot of the stairs before she can reach you. Her voice still carries through to you.

“Did you get the ice cream?” Joel chuckles softly, “I did, dessert is safe. Listen, I gotta- I mean, Santa’s gotta do some last minute preparations. You mind staying in your room for a bit? And no peeking.” The girl grumbles something under her breath but heads back upstairs and a moment later, you hear her door close, a small breath of relief escaping you at that.

Joel's head appears around the corner, “Come on. I’ve got some stuff in the kitchen.”

He pulls out a first aid kit, disinfecting your wound carefully before wrapping a few ice cubes into a towel and dabbing it against your cheek a few times before holding still. The cold immediately seems to work and you involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.

Joel smiles a bit, his hand still pressing the cool sensation against your skin, “That’s better, hm? Just don’t leave it on too long.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, bringing your own hand up to take the towel from him. There is a small moment, merely a few seconds, when your hand sneaks below his, your skin pressed against him, somehow fitting more perfectly than you ever couldve imagined. It feels even better than the ice.

Joel let go after a moment, taking a step back and turning to the kitchen that is messy with dinner preparations.

“She made you get ice cream?” You ask softly, hoping to steer the conversation into a somewhat pleasurable direction.

“Yeah, yeah, she did. You know how she is,” Joel smiles softly. It doesn’t last long. He clears his throat, glancing down at his feet.

“Listen, I know it ain’t my place. But this is not- it’s not normal. Not even close.”

“It is to them.”

Your voice is quiet. You don’t even want to say it. But something about Joel has always made you open up faster and more intensely than you have with anyone else, “It doesn’t happen that much.”

“Ain’t supposed to happen at all, darlin’,” he argues softly. His eyes fly to the window for a second. There’s a string of lights hung up in it as well. You think there’s not a single one at your house. You were raised on little light.

“We’re making dinner in a bit, Sarah’s pick, and Tommy can’t make it so we are one person short.”

You furrow your brows slightly, wondering for a moment why he is telling you about his dinner plans. But then- it washes over you.

“I couldn’t- I’m sure you have a lovely night planned and-”

“Won’t change if you’re there. It’ll still be a lovely night,” Joel says softly, nudging your foot with his. “Come on, let me- let me do this for you.”

You let him. There is dinner, luckily with no more questions about your slightly swollen face. Joel offers you some wine, lets Sarah pick a movie, pretends to hate that it’s some cheesy Christmas movie. You still catch him smiling at the screen throughout the film.

The teenager falls asleep halfway through and Joel gives you an apologetic look before he carries her to bed. When he comes back and sits down, his hand almost automatically finds your knee. Between the romantic movie and the second glass of wine, the atmosphere between you has changed.

“You know our door is always open, right? Sarah loves having you here.”

“Only Sarah?” You raise a brow, leaning into Joel’s broad form a little more and his eyes soften as he looks down on you, “You’ve had a long day. We shouldn’t add any more to that.”

“What if I want to?” Your face is hovering inches from his. You don’t remember even being this close to him, “Joel, please.”

He can’t resist your begging. He doesn’t think he could if he tried.

Christmas Eve brings you your first kiss with Joel. He runs his hands over your cheeks, always careful to avoid the bruise and even when you pull back to catch your breath, his mouth stays on your face, kissing your chin, your nose, your eyes.

He kisses your forehead an hour later when you’re wrapped into his sheets, after you’ve moaned and then cried immediately afterwards. He holds you through all of it, his voice barely a whisper to not wake Sarah.

“I like having you around too, darlin’.”

notes: thank you for reading. i love you <3

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skaikruswan · 2 years

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I walk beside you - Chapter 5

Summary: “I have not heard these words in ages,” a deep, male voice says, and before you can answer, you wake up.Your dreams start changing once you realize that you’re not alone as you think. Who is this man and why does he know you? How do you know him?

Pairing: Dream / Morpheus x reader

Notes: reincarnation, past lives, flashbacks, fluff and mystery

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

My other fics / prompts

Ao3: Sweet dreams for everyone who leaves a kudo or a comment.

You’re surprised that after all the action in your dreams, you still wake up well-rested and with enough energy to handle your day without breaking a sweat. You’ve even managed to shop for groceries. You guess that this is one of the many perks of knowing the King of dreams.

You skip over a puddle, giggling like a small child. This day has started well, and it will surely end well, with another dream with Morpheus. You learned a lot last night and you hope to continue exploring. The library seems to hold a lot of memories, in every sense of the word. There is a book about you. How much does Morpheus know about you? How similar or different are you compared to your incarnations? Ugh. These thoughts are poison, and you must stop.

You return home and do your laundry, watch an episode of your favorite show, and enjoy the rest of the day. Your mind is still busy, thoughts turning and spinning, and you relent.

While you can’t find out anything about past-you, you can research Morpheus. Since he knows so much about you and your previous incarnations, it only seems right that you get to know him better, right?

You reach for your laptop and start to research, recalling the names Morpheus had listed when he revealed that he wasn’t a god, but Dream of the Endless. Shivers run down your spine as you recall that moment.

You research the first one, Kaikul, and at first, you find nothing. You let out a frustrated groan start digging. It seems that the name is first referenced in an African myth, passed orally from generation to generation. It had almost been lost to oblivion, and you are truly grateful for that site that seems to collect oral traditions and tales.

Nada, the young queen of the city where humanity began, had fallen in love with a supernatural being she called Kaikul, although it had been forbidden. Their romance ended in tragedy when the city was burned to ashes and Nada ended her life.

You swallow thickly, hoping that Nada hadn’t been an incarnation. Moreover, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the story. Why was the romance forbidden? How did Morpheus react to her death?

You take a sip from your mug and continue your research.

Oneiros, fortunately, is easier than Kaikul. It confuses you a little since it’s also from Greek Mythology. Morpheus is the Greek god associated with dreams and sleep, while Oneiros are personified dreams sent by the gods to intervene on their behalf. Greek mythology can be confusing, so you just accept it and move on.

Tutu is the Egyptian god, a chimera-like creature guarding the sleeping humans from danger and bad dreams. This seems a little weirder than the others, but then again, there are more than Egyptian 1500 deities.

Your fingers itch to hit the keyboard again, to find out more about are deities associated with sleep or dream, but you decide that this enough, at least for now.

You finish your remaining work, call your best friend to catch up, do a little workout and go to bed. While Morpheus is almost compellingly intriguing, you’ve vowed to yourself that you would never neglect you “real” life, that your dreams wouldn’t become more important than your waking life. You want to have balance.

You close your eyes and fall asleep quickly.

-------------------------------------

You find yourself back in the library, once again marveling at the countless rows of bookshelves. Your footsteps only creak faintly over the polished wooden floor as walk through the aisle.

“Hello?” you call out, expecting an answer. Somehow, you don’t get one, and you look around. Where are Lucienne and Morpheus?

From the corner of your eye, you see something shimmering. A golden ball of light floats towards you, and you take a few hesitative steps towards it. Maybe it is some sort of guide?

The light floats away from you, as if it’s expecting you to follow it, and you do, preferring the light to loneliness. It keeps a steady pace, staying at the edge of your reach, making you almost chase it through the maze of bookshelves. You couldn’t find your way back to your starting point even if you tried.

You wish the light would stop for a moment. Is it even helping you? You check your surroundings and realize that you seem to have entered an older section of the library. The bookshelves are still in pristine condition, but the books and tomes are worn and brittle with age, their inscriptions in languages you don’t understand. The few windows that allow light to enter are small and close to the ceiling, out of your reach.

“Hello? Anybody there?” you call out again, panic making your voice crack. Fear seems to wrap around your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. The light seems to mock you, floating back and forth, taunting you to follow it.

You take a deep breath. This is Morpheus’ realm, and you like to believe that there is nothing here that would seriously harm you. This is your dream, and if you must, you will end it, wake up, watch some cute animal videos, and then go back to sleep.

Just as you’re about to figure out how exactly you can end a dream, you hear some faint humming and you grin, abandoning the light and running towards the noise.

The humming gets louder, and you turn left, seeing the back of a figure, wearing a white shirt and an apron. The head is weird, and what’s that brown thing on their shoulders?

You press your hand on your thundering chest, clearing your throat at the still humming figure.

The figure turns around, and you’re face to face with a pumpkin head. You let out a long scream.

“I can’t believe that you’re back and the first thing you do is scream at me!” the talking pumpkin head – Merv – complains, while you bury your face in your hands.

After your, let’s call it, improper reaction, Morpheus had appeared, and you had impulsively reached for his hands. He gently guided you and the talking pumpkin back towards the heart of the library, still holding your hand, which you really appreciated.

You’re sitting in a comfortable leather armchair, trying to calm down. This may be the dream world, but chasing an eerie light through an endless library, only to meet a talking pumpkin head, can frighten a person.

“I am sorry,” you say sincerely, giving Merv an apologetic smile. “But you have to admit, a talking pumpkin is weird!”

“Your apologies have been better,” Merv replies drily, giving you his equivalent of a scowl. You blink owlishly, realizing that you’ve found another person who seems to have known past-you.

“Well tell me, how often did I scream when I first met you?” you ask, leaning forward with newfound curiosity.

“A few times, but that’s still nothing compared to the one time you saw me, dreamed up a lantern, and threw it at me! You wanted to set fire to me, in the middle of a library!” Merv recounts, shaking his head in disbelief, and you press your lips together, feeling hot guilt curse through you. What the hell, past-you?

You glance at Morpheus, who has been silent so far, simply listening to the conversation. How often has he been witness to you meeting Merv? Is he comparing this to your previous incarnations?

“I promise that I won’t try to burn you,” you swear solemnly, giving him a real smile this time. You extend your hand and Merv reaches out with his gloved one, shaking it.

“I think it best if we return to the confines of your dream. I have something to show you,” Morpheus announces, looking at you, a flash of anticipation in his eyes, and you give him an eager nod, jumping up from the armchair.

You say goodbye to Merv, who gives you a clap on the back before walking away, and you give Morpheus an expectant look.

---------------------------

One blink later and you find yourself back inside your own dream. It’s hard to explain it, but it almost feels like home. This is your tiny realm; this is where you usually spend your dreams, your beach and your forest.

“I thought it best to show you how to feel yourself more at ease inside the Dreaming, to help you manipulate your surroundings,” Morpheus explains, and you feel the heaviness of his full attention on you.

“The Dreaming?” you ask. Lucienne has called herself the librarian of the Dreaming if you remember correctly.

“This realm,” Morpheus clarifies, and fondness warms his words. “You’ve always been apt at controlling your dreams, changing yourself and your surroundings with a skill and ease only a few humans possess, especially in this time and age.” You feel your cheeks flush after his compliment, while your competitive spirit is stirred awake.

“Try to manipulate yourself or your surroundings,” Morpheus suggests, raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge.

One second later, he’s gone, replaced by a beautiful black cat with golden eyes. You can’t help but let out a gasp, immediately kneeling to push your fingers through the soft fur. Your mind catches up and you freeze, remembering that this is still Morpheus, your hand hovering over the ears.

The king of dreams doesn’t seem to mind, pushing his head against your palm and you scratch him under his chin.

“I am waiting.” Morpheus’ voice rings clear inside your mind, and you remember the purpose.

You close your eyes and imagine yourself to be a cat too, your paws digging into the soft ground, your sharp eyes fixed on the sun sinking beneath the waves, the salty breeze ruffling your fur.

You open your eyes and find yourself almost at eye level with the black cat. As a cat yourself, you realize how big Morpheus is, and you have to look up to stare into his golden eyes. Unlike with the golden light, you can’t imagine yourself becoming annoyed or afraid.

“Well done,” Morpheus praises, rubbing his head against yours in an unexpected but very welcomed show of affection, making your little heart pick up a pace. “I do believe you can do better.”

“Challenge accepted.” This dream has just become a game, one you intend to win. All you have is your imagination, your wit, and your competitive spirit.

“I am a mouse, sitting inside my burrow, safe and secure from any danger,” you announce, your voice sounding cheeky even to you.

The world around your changes, you become smaller, and you find yourself underground, lying on a bed of moss. Far up, you see a cat staring down at you, his tail swishing from left to right. Choosing a mouse may not have been your wisest choice, especially with Morpheus being a cat, but he can’t reach you, and you’re safe.

“I am a serpent, lithe body and poisoned bite, slithering into the burrow,” Morpheus replies, his voice low, and you let out a squeak when you see a black snake enter your home, golden eyes gleaming and baring long fangs. No can do, you think to yourself.

“I am a dove, soaring through the sky, feeling the wind ruffling my feathers as I fly over forests, cities, and mountains,” you counter, and air replaces ground as your home, with you feeling free and safe. The forest and Morpheus are but a smidge of green as you fly higher.

“I am a hawk, keen eyes and strong wings, finding prey inside my realm.” Morpheus’ voice comes from above and you have only a second to evade before a black bird of prey barrels into you. You fly away, his heavy wings following you wherever you flee, as you fail to find a hiding spot.

You have to get more creative, or else Morpheus is going to catch you sooner than later. This little game manages to find the balance between terrific and terrifying, with Morpheus’ strategy being to simply counter you by being a predator.

“I am a mermaid, living deep in the ocean, exploring sunken ships and fearing no animal in the sea,” you state, and the setting changes anew.

The kelp forest is blocking almost all the sun, with the seaweed rolling with the movements of the water. Your colorful fishtail allows you to gracefully move through the sea, and you breathe water as you breathe air. This is a wonderful dream, and you must return next time you think as your hands touch a beautiful coral.

Counter this, oh King of dreams, you think to yourself, mindful not to say that thought out loud.

“I am Leviathan, the great sea serpent, the whisper of the waves.” Morpheus’ voice seems to come from beneath the sea floor, and cracks begin to open the crust as whatever Morpheus’ form seems to be rises from the ground. You don’t even want to know. Damnit!

“I am royalty, sitting inside my palace, warriors and mages doing all they can to protect me!”

A crown adorns your head, and you only wear the finest garments, sitting on a throne and listening to the people under your care as they seek your advice. The fantasy route promises better results, and you feel a little better as you see the countless uniformed men and women wielding swords and wands, guarding every entrance.

“I am a dragon, my scales impenetrable, my breath scorching, collecting royalty as I collect treasure.” Your scream joins those of your subjects as a black dragon just tears off a portion of your palace’s roof, talons digging into wood and stone.

Agape, you look at the creature, monstrous and wonderful at the same time. Blue slits seem to zero in on you, erasing every thought you have.

The dragon opens his mouth and fangs longer than your arm make your knees buckle. Scales shining like onyx make your finger twitch to touch them and discover what they feel like.

How are you supposed to counter a dragon? Your guards seem to be useless against Morpheus, their spells having no effect and their swords not making a scratch on his scales.

This time, Morpheus changes the setting, and you find yourself on top of a huge mountain of gold and jewelry, a dragon’s lair.

The dragon in question is lying down, his huge form almost curled around you. You don’t find the words to express how small you are compared to him. Escape is futile, but you don’t want to give up. Time for a new tactic.

“I am a royalty, taming the dragon with a simple tale and a kind touch,” you say, foregoing reason as you put your hand on what seems to be his cheek, feeling the sleek texture of the scales. You really hope that you don’t end up as dragon snack.

The dream changes again, and you’re back as you, but with your hand still cradling Morpheus’ cheek. No dragon can compare to the thrill you feel as your fingertips dance over his smooth skin. You’re screaming internally.

“Well played,” Morpheus says, inclining his head. He’s wonderfully close, and you wonder if he hears your heart race.

“You pulled no punches,” you protest with a smile, and Morpheus smirks, the jaw under your hand moving.

“I knew you could keep up.” Holding onto your hand, Morpheus reaches into the pocket of his black coat with his other hand and drops a beautiful necklace on your palm.

You gently lift it up: on a delicate golden chain hangs a tear-shaped ruby pendant.

“This is lovely,” you whisper as you give him back the necklace and turn your back at him, a silent invitation for help.

Morpheus complies immediately, his fingers brushing away your hair as he closes the clasp of the necklace. His presence sooths and thrills you at the same time.

“This necklace will alert me to your presence inside your Dreaming,” Morpheus explains, his lips dangerously close to your ears, and your shoulders sag with relief. No more getting lost, you hope.

The world around you shakes, becoming blurry for a second, and you want to groan. Again? Why do the dreams seem to pass by in a flash?

You wake up before you can say goodbye. With all the excitement, you’ve totally forgotten to mention the golden light to Morpheus, but then again, it is most likely irrelevant after all. Maybe you’ve even summoned it, your subconscious needing an impulse to explore the library on your own.

Nothing to worry about.

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #my writing #my sandman fics

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 1 year

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Training Sessions

Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x She Hulk, Steve Rogers x Jennifer Walters

Characters: Steve Rogers, She Hulk, Jennifer Walters

Word Count: 1500 // Rating: Explicit

Summary: Steve and Jennifer have a strenuous training session

Tags/ Warnings: Requested Fic, Requests, Mommy Kink, Dom/Sub [kinda], Squirting, Friends, Training, Working Out, Frustration, Orgasms, Female Orgasms, Female Ejaculation, Cowgirl, Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex,

Notes: Here ya go! Hope you like it [I don’t know She Hulk that well and the kink stuff isn’t really my thing but I gave it a shot]

Request

In this fic they live in the tower and they're avengers she hulk wants to train and starts looking for Steve so she goes to his room and when she gets there she o-pens the door she catches him masturbating and quickly walks in and shuts the door and asks him what he's doing but he doesn't stop masturbating he just looks at her and says "hey mommy" she immediately takes off her sports bra and he r tiny skirt and starts fingering herself while he masturbates pretty soon she feels close and walks over to him and stands on the bed over him and cums squirting down all over his body he gets shocked and asks "what was that?' and she giggles and says "that was my squirt you bitch" and she sinks down onto his cock and starts riding him. She rides him for a while and while she rides him she squirts 2 more times then he says he's gonna cum and she gets off of him and jerks him off making him cum all over his chest and then she immediately sinks down on his dick again and says "you didn't think I was done with you yet did you?" Then she rides him some more and squirts 3 more times it spraying all over him and then after that she gets up and tells him to get on his knees and eat her so she lays on her back and he gets on the floor on his knees and starts eating her out and after a while she cums again squirting all over his face and then he stands up and starts jerking off and soon says he's gonna cum so he gets on his knees over her on the bed and cums on her breasts. He calls her mommy the whole fic and she degrades him during smut can you also make this long and detailed and somehow include and ending. Please can you do this?

Jennifer was bored. A bundle of pent-up energy that she couldn't get rid of. Since she had come to start living at the Avengers compound she had found she had too much time on her hands. She didn’t have work to focus on and out in the countryside, there was only so much to do. It didn’t help that the other Avengers weren’t always around either so she was left to her own devices. Which was why she was here, in the gym, slamming her fists into a punching bag hoping to release something from within her. But as she punched she couldn’t get rid of that feeling inside. She didn’t know what it was but it was driving her insane. With one last jab, she knocked the stand-up punching bag across the room where it skidded across the floor stopping by the door. Jennifer sighed.

She wasn’t getting anywhere like this. She needed help. A partner.

So, without another thought, she headed upstairs in order to scope out a friend to help her feel better. She ended up outside of Steve’s room. She liked Steve. He seemed to get her, not like some of the other Avengers. They were nice, sure, but their views were definitely different. They liked their talents or abilities. They used them to their advantage. Steve seemed to be the only one who related to the fact that while they were useful, they were also a burden. Because of that, they’d become close friends.

Which is why she wasn’t prepared for what was on the other side of the door when she opened it. She’d knocked and announced her entrance but as she stepped inside she found Steve, fully nude, his hand wrapped around his cock as he jacked himself roughly. She stopped, too stunned to speak, but as he noticed her come in she noticed he didn’t stop. She couldn't believe it. Steve, her hundred-something squarer-than-square friend, was pleasuring himself in front of her and he didn’t seem to care. She looked at him and he peered back at her his pupils blown with lust as he continued. As she stuttered to speak he smirked.

‘What are you doing?’ she said sternly.

‘What does it look like?’ he challenged. It was the cockiest thing she’d ever seen from him and suddenly that feeling from before was back and hungrier than ever. But it wasn’t a release she would get from exercising, no, this was a different kind of liberation.

‘I meant what are you doing without me,’ she said not wanting to back down. She walked into the room, shutting the door behind her, and clambered onto the bed so she was kneeling. Steve eyed her with a smirk as she shimmied off her sports bra and bottoms. His eyes roved over her figure as her fingers teased down her body, pinching and caressing her nipples for a moment until they trailed down further. Steve continued to pump his cock which was as she teased between her folds, tracing around her clit a few times before she slid two digits into her hole. Steve watched in awe as she worked up a rhythm pumping her fingers gently in and out of her as she grinded down on her hand, feeling the friction against her clit.

‘Fuck, you’re so hot’ Steve said as he watched.

‘Is this what you’ve been thinking about?’ she said looking at him as her other hand caressed her breast.

‘All day,’ he said.

‘Bet you were waiting for me huh?’ she asked, ‘all pent up thinking about me catching you like you’re some teenager.’

‘Am I in trouble?’ Steve asked, suddenly sounding unsure. Jennifer smirked.

‘Not if you make me happy,’ she said her breaths getting heavier by the second., ‘do you wanna make mommy happy?’

‘Yes,’ Steve said.

‘Say it,’ Jennifer said feeling that familiar surge ready to run through her. That release was coming and it was going to hit like a freight train.

‘I wanna make you happy mommy,’ Steve said. And that was it, the barrier was lifted and Jennifer was cumming fluttering around her own fingers as her juices squirted all over Steve.

As she fell forward, tender to the touch she found Steve looking at her, no longer touching himself.

‘What was that?’

‘My squirt,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen that happen before,’ he said bashfully.

‘Well you better get used to it because mommy’s got plans for you,’ she said forcing him to lay down as she moved to straddle him. Before Steve could say another word she sunk down on his cock, taking him for everything he had until he was buried to the hilt inside her.

Steve groaned as she raised off him and back down, riding him in a slow rhythm. Every time Steve tried to change pace she stopped him pinning him to the mattress. He could feel his orgasm coming but he needed more. Watching her riding him without letting him take what he wanted was killing him. He moved his hands to her hips in an attempt to keep her stationary but she merely placed a hand on his chest and said, ‘stop trying to take over.’

‘But I need you,’ he whined.

‘And I need you to behave. Stop being a little bitch,’ she said and then she started moving her hips quicker. Steve couldn’t believe she was obliging. His release was coming quicker than he could anticipate.

‘Fuck,’ he choked, ‘I’m gonna cum.’

And just as he was going to she pulled off of him making him shoot hot thick ropes of cum all over his stomach. Steve whimpered at the loss of her and the fact his orgasm had all but been snatched away from him. Before he could dwell on it though her hand was back on him, lining him back up at her hole.

‘Mommy,’ he whimpered.

‘What? You didn’t think I was done with you yet did you,’ she scoffed climbing back on him. He was tender but she didn’t care. She was riding him hard, pinning him to the mattress as that feeling built back up again. He was writhing underneath her spurring her on until she felt herself gushing all over him once more. Steve whimpered as she slowed down and lifted herself off. She flopped onto her back, resting on the bed on her elbows.

‘Well?’ she said nodding towards her glistening sex. Steve nodded and scrambled to get off the bed. He kneeled beside it and pulled her towards him by her thighs. There was no teasing, no foreplay, instead, he buried his face between her thighs lapping at her like it was his job. Jennifer fell back in pleasure. His tongue navigated her clit whilst his fingers teased her slit before inching inside gently, curving just a little. As he found his rhythm she couldn't stop herself from joining in rolling her hips against his face. Her second high was coming in thick and fast and watching her Steve was no longer concerned about how tender he was. He was back in the game, his hand coaxing him back to full mast.

‘Fuck,’ Jennifer grunted as his tongue flicked over her clit, ‘do that again.’

Steve obliged and it was over. She was trembling around him, that wave washing over her as her juices dribbled down his chin. As she flopped back Steve stood up, watching her as she came down from her high, entirely fucked out. She looked at him as he groaned edging himself closer and closer.

‘Look at you,’ she smirked, ‘all pathetic and needy after watching me cum.’

‘Need it mommy,’ Steve grunted looking down at her as she leaned up and caressed his thighs.

‘Need what?’

‘To cum,’ he said, ‘please touch me.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. But I’ll let you cum on me. Right here.’

She pushed her chest out in front of him, her breasts heaving as she did so. Steve was panting, jerking his cock as fast as he could until he finally came undone, spilling onto her with a moan. He stumbled a little, falling down onto the bed beside her with a thump. She chuckled as she looked at him. He seemed so small and defenceless. As he caught his breath she grabbed his discarded t-shirt off of the floor and wiped herself clean. He only came to as she got off the bed, standing up and grabbing her clothes from the floor.

‘Well, that was something,’ he said flipping himself onto his back. His cock was softening against him and though he was still fully nude Jennifer didn’t see that man she had just had sex with. Not anymore. He had become Steve again as if that urge inside her was a whole different sort of monster, one that changed her worldview until she expelled it from inside her.

‘It sure was,’ she replied with a smirk as she headed to his bathroom.

‘Where are you going?’ Steve asked.

‘To shower,’ she said, ‘I always like to after a strenuous training session.’

‘Yeah?’ he said, ‘funnily enough me too.’

Jennifer stopped and leaned against the bathroom door eying him again. He wasnt as cocky as he was before but there was a definite challenging glint in his eye as he uttered that last bit.

‘Maybe next time Rogers,’ she said, ‘if you’re a good boy.’

#my writing #training sessions #she hulk fic #requests #requested fic #she hulk x steve rogers #marvel #marvel fic

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galactic-magick · 3 years

Text

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

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ladykf-writes · 3 years

Text

Challenge: list the WIPs you promised you’d update, and why you haven’t yet

Tagged by @yuzukimist - if you want to do this, please repost and tag me, don’t reblog, because this will be a bit long. I have, uh... a lot of WIPs to address.

A few suggested tags: @vorpalgirl , @wandererriha, @thegeeksqueaks , @lynati , @deadcatwithaflamethrower and @norcumii if you all would like to? And YOU, you person who’s reading this!

NOW! Being fair the only one I’ve “promised” updates on is Dog Whistle, and I just updated that Saturday, but there was such a hiatus in-between that I’ll address it.

The fact of the matter is, I got stuck on DW because I wanted to do Shelke justice but she’s a very different fighter than the other Tsviets/SOLDIER (and therefore out of my usual experiences as a writer). A traditional fight scene... isn’t going to be what she’s angling for. She is a Brain, the fact that she was out where someone could attack her head on... that was a miscalculation on their part. She would he have been so much better left to manage things behind the scenes. Alas.

But yeah, a lot of these are either “plot got stuck on a problem” or “character in the story was not cooperating” as you’ll see shortly. XD

Cause of delay on DW:

- differently paced fight scene / figuring out how to get in Shelke’s head. (shoutout to @wandererriha for getting me unstuck with some great ideas!)

I’ve also had a couple people ask about It’s Not a Game (the FF7/Avengers crossover that I haven’t posted on since early ‘19 whups?) And actually, it’s... sort of tricky what happened.

See, I had finished the next chapter, but it’s short. It’s like, nearly 300 words short of my self-imposed minimum count (I aim for between 1500-2500 words on my chapters because in my experience most people can read that in one sitting and at the same time feel like they’ve read a good chunk / me actually advance the plot / character arcs / etc.)

And I got hung up on that. I couldn’t seem to make it organically longer, and it frustrated me, and it wasn’t like I had a plot for this - spoilers: this was meant to be a thought provoking one-shot what-if, not the multichaptered fix it that it’s turning into - so I didn’t want to jump ahead without really knowing where “ahead” was supposed to be.

I have since then accepted that the chapter’s going to just be short and I have some ideas on where I’m going from there. I do, in fact, have a few chapters written now (like, 2.5 I think? maybe 3? I don’t have it open right now) but I want to try and wind up DW before I start working hard core on something as plotty as INAG is threatening to become. To top it off, Age of Ultron (2015) had started my decline in enthusiasm for Marvel (I really only watched the Iron Man and Avengers movies; Guardians of the Galaxy and Ragnarok were exceptions) and in 2019 what happened? Endgame, and a severe blow to my love of the MCU.

Cause of delay on INAG:

- pacing issues + lack of plotting + falling a little out of love with the MCU canon and therefore losing my grip on Tony and Bruce, which makes it harder to write the story.

Some honorable mentions under the cut since this is too long already:

Another WIP is Party of Five, which no one has asked about in a long time but does get a mention because... basically I’ve got at least two chapters edited but I need to make some changes to fix things and... really? The big thing is I fell out of doing MMOs, so I lost enthusiasm for writing about MMOs. XD There’s an unposted, halfformed Sanders Sides MMO AU I’ve even got that never saw the light of day for the same reason.

That said, I’m planning on starting some serious gaming soon, if all goes according to plan, so you might just see me revisiting that!

Cause of delay on Po5:

- quit playing MMOs and lost enthusiasm for a MMO heavy fic

Then of course there’s the Welcome to FFVII series and that one’s been even longer stagnating... and the biggest thing getting in my way is saying “how much am I willing to stick to a canon that doesn’t make sense” + “how do I make it make sense / justify things” and I think anyone in the FFVII fandom can relate. We love it dearly, but it is a hot mess. It’s been a hot mess since day one, and just gets messier the deeper into the Compilation you go.

I’m not even touching the Remake, and doubt playing it would make me change my mind.

Cause of delay on WTFFVII:

- canon is a hot mess and it’s really hard to make it make sense. Brain-bendingly hard. It requires a lot of thinking and tbh I think I’m just going to overhaul the whole thing into something new.

My last two (posted) WIPs are not, in fact, FF7 fics so you guys may or may not have read them.

I have a ton written on Dewprism: Journey to the [Relic] - my seminovelization of the old PS1 game that approximately 5 people remember, because I did it for a NaNo. Frankly, I think it has some of the highest quality prose out of anything I’ve ever written.

It also has no comments. And very simply? I write for myself - I wrote over 50K on this baby for me, because I love it - but I post to share the love. It hasn’t gotten attention, so it’s on the back burner. Why spend time on something no one’s reading?

Cause of delay on JTTR:

- zero feedback on 12 chapters killed my enthusiasm for the project. I’ll come back to it someday, but it’s not a priority.

And finally, Times of Change, which does actually get periodic traffic - I would say probably only because it’s listed as “inspired by” a fic from the fantastic @deadcatwithaflamethrower but who knows.

This one suffered from the same problem Po5 did - it’s a crossover with SWTOR... which I quit playing. It also has the problem that INAG did, in that it’s not fully plotted. And additionally it’s been so long since I’ve read the fic it’s based off of I’d have to go back and do that too. So while it’s not abandoned... it’s way down the list. XD

Cause of delay on ToC:

- lost touch with Star Wars in general, honestly, and specifically the two (fan)canons it was born from to begin with. Lack of enthusiasm = lack of progress.

#long post #my wips #feel free to ask about anything I forgot #or just express interest in ones you'd like me to update sooner than later #I'm always down for talking about my projects #dog whistle #it's not a game #party of five #welcome to ffvii #journey to the [relic]#times of change

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marvel-m-lee · 3 years

Text

Naughty Words

Warnings: tickle fic, emotions

Words: (I'm more sure, around 1000-1500)

Summary/Prompt: So an idea for a prompt could be that the reader changes a word on Steves phone to a "bad" word. So whenever he tries to write a certain word the phone automatically changes it to "fuck" or something similar. And then the reader and the others will be like "language". Steve gets extremely frustrated until he figures it out:)

--------------------------------------------------

It was another normal day at the compound. You were bored because all the other avengers were training and Peter was at school until evenings time.

You were just sitting on the couch when you began to think to yourself. You could go annoy Tony, but you weren't sure if he was asleep. Pepper would usually force him to sleep when he couldn't so you really didnt want to disturb that. You could go train but Steve explained you were too young to be an avenger yet. OkAy StEve, (y/a) isnt old enough, WhAteVer! (I got ur back)

That's when the best idea popped into your head. An idea better than any other on the planet. Perhaps you were the smartest human on earth, smarter than Stark, perhaps even the smartest living lifefo!-

"That is a stupid idea y/n" Wanna laughed. She must had only just entered because you hadn't beard her before.

You jumped up and watched her at the counter with your elbows resting on the couch top and your head resting in your hands acting cheeky.

"Wanda! It's a great idea!" You protested. "What's gonna happen? Hmm?"

Wanda began to walk over to you and looked sideways. She brought her hand to her chin to think. You knew she was acting silly but you weren'tsure what she was up to.

"Hmm, I dunno. Maybe.." She then grabbed your hips and began to squeeze them, "Tickle you!?"

You squealed and bucked, tossing and turning on the couch, wanda now had started tickling your sides and giggling with your contagious laughter.

She then stopped and smiled at your giggling self curled into the couch. She ruffled your hair, "little prankster, have fun" she then left as you recovered from her attach as not to be attacked herself.

You didn't mind the tickles, but this prank was worth so much more.

Time had passed and you were just outside Steve's room. You entered quietly, he and the other avengers other than Wanda and Tony seemed to be training so the coast was clear. You slipped inside and looked around.

"This old man's got no taste" obvious in the nicest way possible.

You looked around and saw his phone charging by his bedside table. "Jackpot" you whispered and woddled over to it. You grabbed it and switched it on. Tony had brought him one from the 21th century, finally.

Annoyingly he now had a password now. Luckily, like all old men, it was either Password or his birthday. Or just the same password for everything.

You knew the plan, sneak in, get his phone, and change 'No' with auto correction to "FUCK YES BABY" Because, Swear words, yes, and let's all be honest Steve would never say this unless he was drunk, WHICH COULDN'T EVEN HAPPEN ANYMORE!

Once completed you snucked back out and left to your room to read a book.

More time passed, and finally the team were going to start dinner. Rather than calling everyone and disrupting them Steve decide to text everyone. Peter was also here by now, he had finished school a while ago and you both were sat in his bedroom playing video games.

Old Man Steve: So who wants what for

tea?

Metal arm: Idm

Bank💸: I'm in the shop, wont be

there.

Best mom: No Tony, we're eating dinner

with everyone. Y/n and Peter can choose

You and Peter both picked up your phones after pausing the game, both curious of the buzz after buzz's.

Old Man Steve: @Y/n🍃🌷💸 and

@spiderlings😟🕷, what do you want for

dinner?

Spiderlings😟🕷: 🍕?

You watched your phone as everyone texted, about to ask about what you should eat, but suddenly you remembered the little prank you decided to play on Steve. You knew that we had no pizza left, you and Loki had eaten it the night before when everyone was busy instead of cooking.

Old Man Steve: FUCK YES BABY, sorry Y/n

and Loki ate the last of it.

That's when both Peter and you heard Tony's laughter from his lab.

Bank💸: Languaage cap!

Metal arm: Steve??

Old Man Steve: what, FUCK YES BABY- I

didn't text that.

You: Language cap!

Badass🕷Spider: Language Steve, it's a bad

example to the kids

Old Man Steve: FUCK YES BABY, FUCK

YES BABY! How do I work this?

You and Peter then heard someone walking down the halls and to neither of your surprises Steve opened the door.

"Y/n, Peter, could one of you help me with this?"

Peter was about to answer but you quickly butted in, "oh, we don't know how to. It's too hard" you gave Peter a look.

Peter's face went from confusion to fear and smug. "Sorry Mr Roger's, this is out of my hands"

Steve grunted but smiled, he left to go to see if Tony would help him. Quickly you both tested Tony and explained the situation, everyone heard Steve grunt and leave the lab to go get dinner started.

Bank💸: you guys are fucked once he finds out yk?

Both Peter and you laughed, knowing fully well you'd be wrecked sooner or later, but you couldn't be bothered as of the moment. VIDEO GAMES AWAIT!

Half an hour had passed now and you were getting hungry, so you texted Steve to ask if food was ready, once again the same situation happened. And once more, everyone corrected him on his very inappropriate language.

It was a running gag, whenever one of you swore, Steve would correct you. 20th century shit, and him being a cinnamon bun turned steroids. Now you could have your revenge.

Finally though, food was ready. Peter and you left the room laughing and joking, you were annoying him about a headshot you had got on him but he bragged about more kills so it was practically even.

Everyone was getting to the table as Wanda and Steve set up plates, utensils, and food.

You sat next to Peter and Tony, Tony next to Pepper, next to Pepper was Sam, then Bucky, Steve, Wanda, Vision, Nat, Clint, Bruce and finally back to the Spiderling. Everyone else was busy, Thor and Loki were going to come the next week anyway, they were in Asgard again.

Everyone ate their meals, laughing and talking with one another, you sat directly across from Steve and saw him trying to stop Bucky from throwing his plate at Sam.

Tony leaned in next to you, whispering, "So you did the whole text situation?" He chuckled slightly as you nodded, smirking.

"Why?" Tony asked, he was curious because he knew you enjoyed pranking everyone, but he also knew you wouldn't do this to Steve without a reason. And in all fairness, you just wanted to spend time with Steve- and poke fun at his language- but mainly spend time with him. He had been on missions, work, training, and seemed busy with his life. You just felt as though he was drifting from you.

You shrugged at Tony's question, placing some food in your mouth. Tony poked your side, he didnt need you to answer but he didnt want Steve to have all the fun once this was over.

You squeaked and then squealed once he started squashing the skin on your side, everyone looked to see your adorable face slowly turn red from embarrassment.

"Arent they adorable?" Steve teased. You giggled and finally shoved Tony's hand off you, you looked at steve with a wobbly smile and asked about his language today.

"So Steve, what was up with your texting today?"

Nat swallowed her food and pointed a fork at Steve, "yeah Steve, it was a really inappropriate word"

In all fairness the team knew you both said fuck a lot. You usually would say after a rare mission you got to go on or when there were food in the fridge. "FUCK YEAH" or "FUCK YEAH BABY", probably from deadpool- though luckily for you, Steve was not a genius. Smart, yeah, genius. No. But you began to see the clocks turn in his head as he looked over the table at everyone.

After a while of winding up Steve, you all continued as usual. You were chatting to Peter and explaining how awesome you were at a game to Tony, luckily- well not for you- you hadn't noticed Wanda and Strve watching you as she whispered in his ear.

"Steve, y/n did it earlier, while you were training"

"What?"

"The whole 'no' situation, she wanted to prank you. She misses the time you spend together"

Steve turned to Wanda with both a confused face yet all understanding. Only now had he realised how little time he'd spent with you over the past few weeks. He felt bad but also a little mad at your little prank. But he smiled at Wanda, one filled with hope and- no he smirked. I wont sugar coat it. You were done.

Quickly Steve pushed out his chair, as loud as he could and took in a deep breath causing everyone to go silent and watch him. He then casually looked up and got to his feet. Everyone was almost finished by now, Buck, Steve, Clint, and even you had finished.

"Y/n, I need your help"

You watched him, confused. But suddenly seeing as smirk and losing all your cool as you looked to Wanda with a helpless face. Steve walked around the table and bent down to your height on the chair, whipped out his phone and asked you to help.

You stuttered, but once more explained you had no clue.

"Really? Stark, Peter, how about you?" The old man looked at the tech genius's. Neither spoke up.

"You're on your own kid"

Steve smirked and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder slightly as you had just finished eating. Well a few minutes ago but still.

"S-Steve! Steve I didnt dohoho anything." As any normal response you began to nervously laugh, knowing fully well what would come of this. But you wanted it. You missed it. You missed Steve.

"All I need is for you to help me, can you? Or do I gave to make you?"

Steve had now flung you onto the couch as most watched and others continued their conversations.

"Steve I- i told you i have no clu-" suddenly ten fingers found your sides and began to run up and down them causing you to giggle and yelp.

"Nahaha! Steve! Steve!!"

His fingers traveled to your ribs, pinching and squeezing each one, pretending to nawh on them. He didn't start easy, no. He knew you needed this as much as he did.

"Mm, that was a great dinner, but I wonder what's for dessert?" He asked, gnawing on your ribs and squeezing your hips making you buck and squeal.

"STEVEEEEE!!!" you were almost histerical when he reached your pits, scratching at the hollows inside, making you giggle and scream, beg and brawl. It was truly adorable to watch the two of you.

"Tickle tickle y/n, aww do you want to help me now?" Steve taunted. You stood strong though, you wanted to win. Well maybe you didnt, maybe you just wanted this to last longer. You werent sure.

"NOHOHO WAY OLD MAHAN!" You bucked and squealed, blush covering your face. You truly didnt think it would get worse but oh God, Steve hadn't ripped out the fruits yet. And just for your sas. Ah, you were wrecked.

"Okay smart ass"

"LAHANGUAGE!"

"That's it." Steve lifted your shot and placed his mouth right above your belly button. Now you were beyond hysterical, you knew what would happen and wouldn't be able to handle it, Steve gave some of the best- WORSE. DEFINITELY WORST. Raspberries around.

"NAH! NAHAH! STEVE STEVE IM SOHOHORRYYYY! I'LL HELP! I'LL HELP!" you squeaked and bucked, trying to escape, those at the table laughed at your helpless, blushing body and Steve's incredible stubbornness. So mean. So very very mean. Mean.

"Ah I'm glad you'll help" Steve lifted his head and lessened his grip on your hips, not fully though, as a millisecond later he blew a big, wet, raspberry directly on your belly button, sending vibrations to your core and back.

You jolted and screeched, pushing at his head as he blew more and more with tiny tickle kisses around your stomach.

After a while he stopped and patted your head as you balled up into the couch, drowning in giggles, laughter and ghostly tickles.

Steve handed you his phone and you quickly changed the words back as they were, disappointed but happy that you spent time with Steve again. You missed your bond, even the tickles.

Steve kissed your forehead and turned on the tv, spongebob. A favourite of both of yours, cuddling together as everupmr rose finished and put away the dishes. You slowly fell asleep on Steve's lap, hally knowing you've got your captain back.

--------------------------------------------------

Writers note.

Hey, sorry this was- well shit I'm not sugar coating it. It was also awkward because I cant eat to great now and the cuteness was sickening. Thank you for the prompt though! This was definitely a favourite, thank you! Apologies again :)

#marvel #mcu #tickle community #m-verse #tony x reader #steve x reader #peter x reader #steve Rogers #steve #stark #wanda maximoff #avengers #y/n #sfw tickles

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darriness · 3 years

Text

Klaine Fic - Title: Field Day

Author: darriness

Word Count: ~1500

Summary: A chance to volunteer

Author's Note: For @tchrgleek who prompted "Prompt for your A Life in a Year verse: a 100 degree day in NY and one (or both) of them is supposed to volunteer for Field Day at school." Hope you like it!

AO3 Link

Field Day

“Whose idea was this?” Kurt pouts as he stands in front of the mirror, smoothing cream onto his face.

Blaine chuckles as he comes into the bathroom behind his husband. He rests a hand on Kurt’s lower back and smirks at him through the mirror, “I believe it was yours.” Kurt rolls his eyes, “And I also think you’re not supposed to use an entire bottle of sunscreen in one sitting.”

Kurt side eyes Blaine with a sigh, “Says the man who goes so golden in the sun he’s been mistaken for a Greek God on more than one occasion?”

Blaine shrugs with a little smile. Kurt pouts at the golden shoulder peeking out from underneath Blaine’s tank top as it settles back down, “Your skin mocks me.”

Blaine leans in and kisses Kurt’s creamy pale shoulder peeking out under his own tank top, “My skin loves you.” He whispers.

Kurt wants to stay annoyed, but he can’t help but giggle at the line.

Blaine smiles, always happy when he can get Kurt to laugh, before pulling back, “Are you ready now? The kids are practically vibrating to leave.”

Kurt turns back to the mirror, swiping a hand under his eye one more time even though no visible cream remains, before nodding, “As I’ll ever be.”

-- -- --

Kurt regrets his decision to volunteer them both for the kids’ school Field Day the more the day wears on. Not only is he sure he’s burning despite his careful sunscreen application, it’s at least 100 degrees out and his sweat has sweat. To top it all off, he’s about two minutes from throat punching half of the other parents here for eyeballing his husband like they want to eat him for dinner.

Blaine and Kurt got separated to different events upon their arrival and Blaine is within eyeshot but across the field, helping to run the toss across station. Kurt will admit to enjoying watching his husband move around in the sun from his spot helping to run the obstacle course - Blaine’s skin is shimmering from a light sheen of sweat and watching his muscles shift as he bends to pick up the tossed beanbags has been magical - but if one more school mom (or dad for that matter) finds a reason to approach Blaine and lingers too long Kurt is going to lose it.

“Papa!” Kurt turns away from watching Blaine to watch Matty approach at a sprint. Nash is at his heels and Kurt can’t help but smile at how happy they both look. He’s glad they’re enjoying the day.

“What’s up, buddy?” He asks, pulling the slightly sweaty 6-year-old to him for a quick hug when the boys reach him. He briefly thanks whoever or whatever is responsible for Matty still wanting to hug him in public. Lizzy, at ten years old, has shunned public hugs for at least a year now.

“Can I have a slushie?” Matty asks. His nose is beginning to pink under his hat and Kurt itches to put more sunscreen on his pale skinned offspring, but while public hugs are okay, sunscreen application is less so. He’s glad they were able to get ANY on Matty this morning.

Kurt squints an eye at his son, “Did you already ask and get one from Daddy?” He asks skeptically. He knows for a fact Matty hasn’t been to Blaine, but he doesn’t want to admit he’s been watching Blaine that closely.

“No!” Matty protests.

“I don’t know...” Kurt says slowly, “Stick out your tongue so I can see.”

Matty proudly juts out his pale pink tongue, untouched by sugary tongue staining syrup, and Kurt laughs.

“Alright, you can have a slushie.” He concedes, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, “Do you want one too, Nash?” He asks. Nash may not be his son, but with Rachel and Jesse not here (he still doesn’t know how they got out of this) he feels a certain responsibility for their son.

Nash bounces on his toes and nods with a grin so wide Kurt can see several spots where the 6-year-old has lost teeth, “Yes, please, Uncle Kurt!” He asks politely.

Kurt gives both boys the money they need to buy their drinks and then they are both gone. He chuckles to himself as they scream ‘Thank you!’ over their shoulders. He turns back to the obstacle course he’s supposed to be helping run but as his eyes scan over the rest of the field he pulls up short when he notices Blaine not where he last saw him.

There’s another dad where Blaine was just moments before and Kurt frowns, eyes scanning the field for his missing husband.

“Break time?” Kurt jumps slightly at Blaine’s voice behind him and spins to find his husband standing by the beginning of the obstacle course. He’s got a sweet smile on his face and he’s extending a juice box in Kurt’s direction. Blaine shrugs, “I almost chose water but I figured the sugar is good with all the sweating we’re doing.”

The slight pinking of Kurt’s cheeks now has nothing to do with the sun. It’s a simple juice box, offered with a smile, but it still causes Kurt’s heart to swell a little more with love for this man.

“Thanks.” He says, reaching for the box. Blaine had already popped the straw into the hole so Kurt immediately brings the box to his lips and sucks as the pair walk slightly away from the obstacle course area.

“Having fun?” Blaine asks as they walk.

Kurt nods but he tilts his head from side to side slightly at the same time, “It’s way too hot for this, but it’s been fun to see the kids having fun.”

Blaine nods, taking a drink from his juice box, “Lizzy even let me high five her in front of her friends.”

Kurt laughs, he’d seen that, “I’d call that a success.”

Blaine nods again and then the pair is quiet as they continue to walk slowly and drink their juice boxes. Kurt’s is almost empty when Blaine stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Can you...do me a favour?” He asks.

Kurt’s eyebrows go up at the seriousness of Blaine’s tone. Blaine almost seems to be wincing, as if he doesn’t want to ask whatever the favour is, but his tone also tells Kurt that it’s something he can’t NOT bring up.

“Of course.” Kurt says, wondering what could possibly have Blaine in this sudden mood.

Blaine sighs and looks away from Kurt to look over the field, “Could you maybe not...wipe your face with the bottom of your shirt anymore?”

Kurt pulls his head back in surprise. That is not at all what he was expecting Blaine to say, “What?” He says. Had he been doing that? He hadn’t even noticed. He’s not wearing anything fancy today so he figures maybe he’d done it once or twice. It IS really that hot out today. But why would Blaine want him to stop?

Blaine winces again and then sighs, “It’s dumb and neanderthal of me but...the amount of parents watching you like they want you for dessert is really starting to get to me.”

Kurt almost chokes on his tongue and then suddenly he’s laughing. Laughing so hard he’s doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“That’s...not the reaction I was expecting.” Blaine says slowly from above him.

Kurt eventually quiets his laughs and straightens up with a sigh, “Oh, honey, we are quite the pair.” He says.

Blaine’s eyebrows furrow and Kurt smirks at his oblivious husband - though...he figures he’s one to talk at this moment.

“I have been wanting to get violent with half the parents here for checking YOU out all day.” Kurt clarifies.

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up behind his sunglasses and his mouth drops open slightly, “Oh.” He says. Kurt nods and it’s Blaine’s turn to laugh, “I didn’t even notice.” Kurt shrugs, “I just know I wanted to throttle Keith’s dad.”

Kurt smirks and swings his eyes in Keith’s father’s direction. He shrugs again and curls his lip slightly, “He’s cute but...then I’d have a stepson named Keith.” He whispers the last part with a shudder and he and Blaine laugh quietly together.

They’re quiet for a moment after that and Kurt finishes the last of his juice box before sighing, “So, no more wiping my face with my shirt. Got it.” He says. He probably should stop anyway. It’s so unlike him to treat his clothes that way. Maybe the heat and sun are causing him to be delirious.

Blaine scrunches up one side of his face, “You know what,” He starts, “On second thought, don’t worry about it. Keep doing it. At the end of the day, you’re still coming home with me.”

Kurt nods, “And you with me.” He says.

Blaine smiles, “They should be jealous of us.”

Kurt smirks, “Oh, honey, there is no ‘should’ about that. They are DEFINITELY jealous of us.”

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #my loves #my stuff #field day

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fairhairedkings · 3 years

Text

Translation

I mentioned in this earlier post that I have a lot of thoughts/feelings about the art of translation and now you get to hear them because I need something to do. I’m coming at this as someone whose translation experience was/is Latin to English. I also spent too much time researching and writing about the translation of ideas from text into the visual — specifically biblical commentary being adapted for art. So that is where I’m coming from with all this and why my personal anecdotes are all Latin related.

There’s a scene in the movie Arrival when Amy Adams’ character is talking to Forest Whitaker’s character about the difficulties of translation and she explains that it isn’t just a matter of swapping out words and that’s it. You have to make sure that the meaning of the word is carried from one language to the next. (One day I will (maybe) write something about adaptation as translation and how things that are seen as “faithful” translations focus on the letter rather than the meaning, but generally this doesn’t result in a good final piece of art.) It’s part of why machine generated translations aren’t great. They’re translating the word, not what it means.

In languages with multiple cases (nominative, genitive, accusative, and so on), it’s even harder. I was in a class that got derailed for an entire day to argue over what kind of dative was being used in a passage from the Aeneid and either way, the English translation looked the exact same. But the nuance was important and one of the options made everything a whole lot more tragic.

That doesn’t even get into whether or not people are using the word to mean the same thing. A good chunk of the arguments that I see on this website are because people are using terms to talk about two slightly different things and no one has taken the time to define the term and how they are using it. I know it sounds really dumb and like you’re talking down to someone, but it is so useful. I just wrote a paper that talked about medieval studies and I realized that the (non-medievalist) audience that I was writing for didn’t actually know what medieval is. They had a rough idea, but their understanding of it wasn’t mine. So I explicitly stated that I was using medieval to refer to the period between 500 and 1500 of the Common Era (and don’t even get me started on how messy dating and periodization are) in Western Europe.

We don’t notice how much context we’re relying on with our words a lot of the time and, relating this back to fandom, it’s really obvious sometimes. It might be “Britishisms” in a fic set in the US, but it can extend to things like cultural norms and taboos. From time to time, I’ll read something and I just know that the person writing isn’t North American. (I’m Canadian, so I’m sure people twitch over my stuff too sometimes.) This isn’t automatically bad - reading boot instead of trunk isn’t going to kill me, but that different context is still there and we should be aware of it, especially when it comes to important topics.

The post that set this off was me pulling up the following translations for the same thing: “You aren’t allowed to be weak” vs. “I won’t allow you to be weak”. They mean pretty much the same thing. The character can’t be weak. But “I won’t allow you to be weak” implies that Xiao Qi (the speaker) will be helping A’wu so that she won’t be weak, in contrast to “You aren’t allowed to be weak”, which puts the need to be strong on her and her alone. @orsuliya was very helpful and said that in the Russian subs the “word they chose to use for allow implies he's going to be rather more active than simply enforcing a rule.” It’s an expression of support, not him making a demand of her.

A truly “useful” (in an academic sense at least) translation is not only going to have a million footnotes to explain choices that the translator has made, but will indicate places where the original text is unclear or where one version of a text has one verb while another version has a different one. The difference of a letter can mean a lot and word choices do matter. I did a translation of a letter a few years back and I needed to make a footnote about the use of the word cauda (meaning tail, but also slang for penis). It was a pointed word choice because the person writing the letter was drawing parallels between the recipient and bees and snakes, all while referencing Psalm 140: 3, which is “They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders’ poison is under their lips,” using parallel constructions and all kinds of other stuff to drive the point home. The whole thing was a (not very) veiled reference to the fact that the person the letter was written to (Peter Abelard) had been castrated after getting involved with someone that he very much should not have and therefore could no longer sting with his “tail” like a bee did, but had to sting with the “tongue” like a snake did (and that wasn’t going to last for long either, according to the author). That was to explain the use of a single word.

As a result, I admit that I have a bit of a distrust for any type of literary analysis carried out on a translation that relies on the language used. For example, let’s say that Language A has seven words for cloud, each of which is quite different from the others in in its meaning. Language B has one word for cloud. When you translate a text from Language A into Language B, those differences disappear. If you then analyze the use of clouds in the text, but you only look at the text in Language B, which only has one word for cloud, your analysis is going to be missing something. If it’s going the other way and you’re reading a text that’s been translated from Language B into Language A, do you know how the translator has chosen which of the seven words for cloud to use in each case? Translation is more of an art than a science, especially when it comes to anything narrative. We might not put as much effort into translating a memo as we would a poem because their purposes are different.

There’s plenty of stuff that’s been written about translation, the impact that a translator can have on a text (look at anything about Emily Wilson and her translation of The Odyssey) and I’ve attached a few sources below if you’re interested. This doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how complex language and translation are, but it’s something that I’m interested in and would love to talk about - like how most of what I’ve been talking about is literary translations, but this started because of differing fan created subtitles on a TV show. I admit that I didn’t spend a ton of time looking into it, but there’s at least a couple of academic articles on fansubbing, though it appears that they’re primarily interested in the labour aspects of it. Hilariously, there is an article with a great sounding abstract that I cannot read because the article itself is in Korean. I’m sure that Alanis Morissette would tell me that this is ironic or something.

This is all to say, please talk to me about translation (and also other stuff).

Anna North. “Historically, men translated the Odyssey. Here’s what happened when a woman took the job.” Vox. (November 20, 2017.) https://www.vox.com/identities/2017/11/20/16651634/odyssey-emily-wilson-translation-first-woman-english

J.R.R. Tolkien on Translation. (1963.) https://www.tolkienestate.com/en/writing/translations-essays/jrrt-on-translation.html

Lauren Rebecca Thacker. “Lost and Found: Translation is an art that allows us to communicate across cultural difference.” Omnia. (November 24, 2020.) https://omnia.sas.upenn.edu/story/lost-and-found

The ones below on Viki are academic and there are uhhhh places that you can get those.

Soon Mi Kim. “Crowdsourced Translation in the Digital Era: Focusing on Viki Fansubbing Community.” The Journal of Translation Studies 18, no. 2 (2017): 67–96. https://doi.org/10.15749/jts.2017.18.2.003

Tessa Dwyer. “Fansub Dreaming on ViKi: ‘Don’t Just Watch But Help When You Are Free.’” Translator (Manchester, England) 18, no. 2 (2012): 217–43. https://doi.org/10.1080/13556509.2012.10799509

Jamie Henthorn. “International Fan Professionalization on Viki.” Television & New Media 20, no. 5 (2019): 525–38. https://doi.org/10.1177/1527476418770742

#mine #translation #language #latin #english #idk how to tag this #long post #text #viki #fan translation

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Safe (Eugene Roe x Reader)

Based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic because its too cute and I can’t help myself apparently.

This is also my first Eugene Roe fic!! Yay!

All translations are via Google...someone please tell me if they are wrong!

Warnings: angst? fluff?

Words:1500

Tag list: @happyveday @evelynshelby @sydney-m

"Get everyone in the trucks! Go! Go!" Winters commanded his men, walking down the line of waiting vehicles.

Doc Roe looked up from wrapping a bandage around a man's shoulder. He watched the men scurry around like ants after a child kicked their home in childish glee.

Operation Market Garden was collapsing around them. Since learning about the operation, while the other men cheered at the idea of Berlin by Christmas, Roe felt nauseous. Something about the operation did not sit well with him. Call it intuition or a sixth sense, he just knew it could not be that simple. Before they dropped into Holland, he had convinced all the medics he knew to bring extra bandages and morphine, anything they could get their hands on. He hoped it would be enough.

"Can you get up?"

The Private grimaced, face pale. "Thank you, Doc. I'll find a seat myself."

"We'll find you some morphine at the aid station." Roe nodded at the Private before starting along the line of trucks, eyes and ears open for the call of a medic.

He caught sight of Spina helping a limping Private onto a truck bed before climbing in himself to continue administering aid. As he continued, he checked people off his mental list. He saw Shifty, Moore, Liebgott, Ramirez, Tanner, Talbert...more and more raced back to the trucks, some with blood tainting their skin and uniforms. He would have to check on them later.

There was one face in particular he had not seen yet.

The further he walked, dodging men retreating, the more his heart pounded in his ears. She was supposed to be in the back. She was supposed to be safe.

"Non, non, non, où es-tu?" He whispered to himself, panic creeping under his skin. (No, no, no, where are you?)

Ever since she had been wounded in Carentan, Winters had kept her from the front lines unless absolutely necessary. Usually, she was holed up somewhere and watching the men's backs, using her sniper skills. Shifty may be their sniper on the ground, but she was their sniper from above. Their guardian angel. If she had been sent to assist...the situation was worse than Roe had previously thought.

Sometime between Toccoa and Aldbourne, he something shifted between them. He could not pinpoint an exact moment. It was somewhere in the lingering touches, the soft smiles exchanged, the comforting words and stories to cheer one another up...somehow, he had fallen in love. Now he needed her just as much as air. She was his lighthouse, his beacon of hope. She had to be safe.

Glancing to his left, he headed towards the truck with what looked like most of her platoon in it. "Luz! You seen y/n?"

Luz looked down at him from his seat. "No, Doc. Last I saw she was protecting the retreat." Remorse and concern filled his eyes as he answered. They both knew what that meant. She would be the last to evacuate, the last to safety, the one most likely left behind.

Roe started running.

"Merde." He swore, eyes darting everywhere for a sign she was nearby, that she was alright. She had to be. It was that loyalty that he both loved and hated in her, how she would make sure "her boys" were safe, protecting their backs and lives, and in the process, be willing to sacrifice her own.

"Y/n! Y/n!" He began calling out in desperation. Ignoring the stares of some of the men, he wrestled internally with his own panic. His cries bordered on hysterical at this point.

They had never spoken those three little words to each other. Never put a name to what existed between them. They just were whatever the other one needed. Over the past two years, that grew until they were each other's world. How they sought each other out. How in a group, they always looked for the other first before anyone else. The quiet nights they cried together.

"Richardson! Is y/n with you?"

The man glanced around the back of the truck that he was waiting to jump into. "No, Doc. She missing?"

Roe did not wait to reply. He kept moving. He had to. Otherwise the growing terror in his mind would consume him. "S’ll vous plaît, Que Dieu la laisse être en sécurité. S'il vous plaît." (Please, God let her be safe. Please.)

"Doc! Over here!"

He zeroed in on Toye's call at the last truck. Pushing anyone who got in his way, he raced to where Toye stood watching. Once Toye noticed him coming, he sat back down, turning back to the person sitting next to him.

Rounding the side, he felt his heart and mind restart as he saw her. She sat next to Toye and some other Private on the uncomfortable wooden bench, her beloved rifle in her lap. As if sensing him, she looked up to meet his gaze. A soft smile -his smile- touched her lips. The panic and terror threatening him vanished like a mist in the wind.

"Mon amour." He breathed out, relief flooding him. There was dirt smeared on one side of her face and a small cut on her chin. Otherwise she appeared fine, even if her clothes looked disheveled and dirty beyond saving. She was alive. (My love.)

Without a further word, he jumped up into the truck and knelt down in front of her. "Hey, you." He held her face in his hands, gazing into her eyes for a long moment before pressing their foreheads together.

"Hey you." She whispered back, her hands cupping his own face. He could taste her breath on his lips. "I'm alright, Gene. I promise."

Leaning back, he ran a hand through her hair, wondering what happened to her helmet. Then he felt something wet and sticky on his fingers. Pulling his hand back, he saw blood on it...her blood.

Immediately he went into overbearing doctor mode.

"What happened?" He demanded, turning her head to the side and trying to find where the bleeding stemmed from.

"I'm fine."

He glared at her before resuming his inspection. Carding his fingers through her hair for an extra second, he began inspecting underneath, silently praying it was minimal. He could not lose her. There was nothing gushing so that was a good sign. She still seemed coherent, her eyes were not dilated, other good signs.

"I just hit my head a little on a brick wall when one of those explosions went off. It's not a big deal."

"Doll, shut up and let the man look you over." Toye drawled from beside her, watching the two in amusement.

Roe rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at Toye. She winced when he touched a particular spot on the side of her head, hair matted with blood. After a moment, he leaned back on his knees and began digging through his medic bag.

"There’s a laceration but it doesn't look deep. You're lucky." He wrapped a bandage around the cut and her head to hold it there. Suppressing a chuckle, he continued to wrap it as she narrowed her eyes at him. She hated being fussed over. In his opinion, she could deal with it. She needed to get better...for both of their sakes.

The truck suddenly lurched, beginning its escape from Holland and the disastrous mission.

Roe shoved the Private next to her over, ignoring his protest, and slipped to her other side. Quietly he took her hand in his as his eyes scanned the others. He had been so focused on her; he did not even think about if any of the other men in the truck were injured. Luckily none were.

"I'm sorry I scared you. I had to help." She murmured, voice barely above the rumble of the trucks.

He sighed, squeezing her hand then pulled her closer into his side. "I know, mon amour, I know." He looked down, meeting those eyes he adored. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "No, but you can't protect me from everything. This is war."

"I can try. Tu es tout pour moi. J’ai besoin de toi à mes côtés. Toujours. Je promets après cette guerre de continuer à vous aimer et à vous chérir comme vous le méritez." The words poured forth, needing to be said, needing to be spoken aloud, even if just for his own sake. Though he meant them with all his heart. (You are everything to me. I need you by my side. Always. I promise after this war to continue to love and cherish you as you deserve.)

"Gene, you know I don't speak French. It's not fair cause I wanna know what you're saying."

"I'll teach you, y/n. I promise." He could not help but press a chaste kiss to the top of her head as they bounced along the road.

Looking at the blue sky and clouds above, he prayed he would be able to fulfill both of his promises to her, that they would both make it through this war. Most of all, he prayed for her to be safe, even at the expense of his own life.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe #doc roe #eugene roe x reader #doc roe x reader #joe toye #world war 2 #reader insert #hbo war #mzwrites

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 3 years

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Black Pear Tree

Partially inspired by @bellygunnr ’s fic and descriptions of the atrium on the Infinity, have a bunch of words that came from me listening to Black Pear Tree on repeat for a week. It got sad and also somehow turned into 1500 words. This is between Canon halo 4 and 5 before the Argent Moon mission and Something has happened Offscreen, that may be revealed later. Very early in the au timeline.

The stars visible through the atrium window of the UNSC Infinity look nothing like the ones that shone above Reach.

The constellations are wrong and the branching arm of the Milky Way lights up the sky in warm hues. Reach was different. Clear skies and a deep ocean of space as the backdrop for pinpricks of light sparkling through the rich tapestry of blue-black.

Reach had mountain ranges and wind and so much greenery. Here there was no wind, just cycled air, mimicking the feeling of a breeze on his naked face. The bench beneath him creaked under his weight as he leaned back and took in the view. Stars overhead and greenery around him, yes, but the cold gray walls that enveloped the space reminded him where he was. Another ship, another steel coffin. The Infinity was massive. The lead ship of her class and called the culmination of human achievement. John had hesitantly begun to think of her as home. But that didn’t change the lessons he had learned again and again. Spartans didn’t win in space. Equipment could fail.

The unfamiliar constellations winked at him, distant and cold. He wondered if the stars above Reach would fade from his mind like the stars he saw as a child had. John couldn’t remember much from before the coin toss, and he had told himself that was fine.

There was the mission, and the next one. He had his orders and would follow them and complete his missions his own way before marching back into cryo and waiting for the next time they needed him. He’d face down the cold, claustrophobic embrace and dreamless darkness. Mendez had pushed him to lead his Spartans to victory. He was fine to keep moving. Insurrectionists, Covenant, Flood, Forerunners, Banished. There was always a new threat, never a moment’s rest and he needed to be ready. John was a Spartan and team leader. He was the first to try the armor, first to jump into battle, and now he’s always last. Out of place and out of time, years and people gone that he could never get back. His own teammates were almost strangers.

He was an aging spartan, a relic compared to the new blood. They may be undisciplined and cocky, but soon they’d have to do.

Too many fast thaws and hard landings. Ceramic bones didn’t stop joint pain. A huff escapes him as he comes back to himself, incredibly aware of the bench beneath him digging into tired muscle and aching bones. He’s slowed enough that introspection caught up. John has tried to shove it all back down, but this isn’t an enemy he can beat. It’s him. His body and mind catching up and taking stock. Apparently constant repression of trauma and loss does not lead anywhere good. He’s listless and agitated when they don’t let him go on missions and after the altercation, he’s shipbound.

Some days he wants to scream and break things, and other times he wants it all to stop.

Most days, he just wants the familiar back. Even when he knew deep down it was bad, he knew how to get through it. He has to beat this somehow. It’s hurting his team and making him lose control and confidence. So he sits in the memorial park and hopes that he can breathe and ground himself. John lists the names he can remember in his head, feels the earth under his feet, and imagines the cycled air is a breeze and not recycled air from a pump keeping them all alive in this metal coffin.

He wonders if his therapist would call what he’s doing processing or moping. Their next session is still a few days away, and he isn’t cleared to use the gyms yet. Roland is kind enough to check on him during his nightly patrols when he can’t sleep, but the atrium is his space. Even Blue Team knows to let him be when he comes here. Kelly will still be nearby, planning her runs so she can keep an eye on him without smothering him.

He’s about to leave when he hears quiet cursing and rustling branches off in the distance.

As he stands he spots two gardeners struggling with a large sapling, and he heads over without really thinking about it.

“Move it, Harris, but be careful of the root cluster! I swear if--” They stop as they notice him approaching. Harris still has their back to him, but is quick to set the tree down in the freshly dug hole and turn and salute, for some reason. “Harris, what the hell are you doing?” Harris has left them with all of the tree’s weight as it tips back towards them. “What’s it look like, Murphy? I’m saluting! You never know who’s on a ship this big, gotta show respect.” Harris spits over his shoulder, before realizing he’s left Murphy wrestling with the weight of the tree. John watches him turn and jump to help Murphy, and moves closer as they both attempt to move the sapling.

“Need help?” He asks, voice rough and quiet. The gardeners pause, and share a look before answering at the same time.

“Sure!”

“No, we’ve got it, sir.”

Harris and Murphy scowl at each other, but before it goes any further, John reaches over and lifts the sapling. He straightens it with ease, before lowering it slowly into place. They scramble out of the way to secure it and fill in the gaps with soil. He breathes in the scent of growth and damp earth and relaxes slightly. It’s a little overwhelming without the filters from the armor. Once again he’s struck by all the green, and the new growth he has clutched in his grip. Its bark is thin and young, but digs into his palm all the same.

“What kind is it?” John asks them as they finish filling the hole and set up a support stake near the sapling. He’d been on so many planets and seen so many trees, they all blurred together, but this one was sticking out. Old memories blur like static on a corrupted message with flashes of afterimages burned into his brain.

“It’s one of those cedars from Reach, bit like Earth’s trees, but hardier.” Harris answers as he dusts himself off and Murphy collects their gear. “Got several different species from Reach.”

He points towards a copse of trees near where the path forked. Harris hasn’t noticed that John froze at the mention of Reach, but Murphy had. They had finished gathering the gear, and walked up to grab Harris before he started again. “Thanks for your help, Uh--” Murphy hesitates.

“John.” He chokes out. He’s still staring at the tree. His hands still touching the bark. “Thank you, John. Harris and me will be on our way. Take all the time you need, sir.” They drag Harris away by the elbow. Harris shoots one more confused look over his shoulder and waves before they both disappear around the bend.

John inhales and holds it for a moment. He traces the bark, eyes falling on the patterns of the bark and the faded augmentation scars. Reaching up, he touches the fragile young leaves with unsteady hands. New growth from a dead planet. A swell of complicated emotion rises in his gut and he huffs a breath through his nose.

Growth and change. He was sick of those words being thrown at him. Progress slipped from his grasp and felt no closer to leaving this prison of a ship than when he started. Confined to the Infinity and pacing his newest cage left him both claustrophobic and exposed. No missions meant no armor, and his access to hangars and other access points was restricted so he couldn’t even watch his marines come and go on missions.

Blue Team had stopped accepting missions in some twisted sense of solidarity. They weren’t under the same orders, the same punishment. Of course not, they didn’t --, he didn’t mean--

They didn’t put themselves in the infirmary. He did.

John pulls his hands away before he damages the sapling. He’s shaking and his heart is pounding in his ears.

It’s a small thing, probably only a few years old, so it never saw Reach itself. Never stood near the tree where Blue Team stood and Sam carved their mark.

They had been so young.

And then decades later, they returned with one missing. A new mark carved into the glassed wasteland that was once their home.

Will you trust me now? Will you follow me?

He had asked them that, and then he almost killed them all. Working himself to death and dragging them down with him.

How could he ask them to follow him now?

John couldn’t. Maybe Master Chief could, but he hadn’t been seen in weeks.

John sat next to one of the last living remnants of his home and looked up at unfamiliar stars.

#my writing #Infinity Sitcom au #I swear it gets happier there are shenanigans in my google drive #infinity tag #also yes another title from a mountain goats song #I've had the EP on loop a normal amount #John 117 #this is not a halo blog #GOD I'M SORRY IT KEPT GETTING WORSE DON'T LOOK AT ME #I KEEP READING THE TEXTBOOK AND LOSING IT #uh oh John uh oh #halo fanfiction #i guess i could use real tags instead of hiding

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

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I was tagged by @memes-saved-me <3<3<3<, Thank you, love <3<3<3<

1. why did you choose your url?

It’s because, one day, just a few months after starting to write again, feeling like I was sweating blood every time I had to sit down and do this, Neil Gaiman made me feel the most understood I‘ve ever felt when it comes to writing:

“It's a weird thing, writing.

Sometimes you can look out across what you're writing, and it's like looking out over a landscape on a glorious, clear summer's day. You can see every leaf on every tree, and hear the birdsong, and you know where you'll be going on your walk.

And that's wonderful.

Sometimes it's like driving through fog. You can't really see where you're going. You have just enough of the road in front of you to know that you're probably still on the road, and if you drive slowly and keep your headlamps lowered you'll still get where you were going.

And that's hard while you're doing it, but satisfying at the end of a day like that, where you look down and you got 1500 words that didn't exist in that order down on paper, half of what you'd get on a good day, and you drove slowly, but you drove.

And sometimes you come out of the fog into clarity, and you can see just what you're doing and where you're going, and you couldn't see or know any of that five minutes before.

And that's magic.”

He summed it up in another interview like this:

“Writing a novel is like driving through the fog with one headlight out. You can’t see very far ahead of yourself, but every now and again the mists will clear.”

i printed it and got it on my wall, too. so i don't forget.

and guess what’s one of my all-time favorite songs? yeah, you got it :D

also, that's the amount of mental enlightenment I go through life with: half the standard equipment. So it fits me pretty well i guess.

2. any side-blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

yeah i’ve got a few. most of them to stash things i like, in general or in other fandoms, but in harringrove i have @thequarryatnight as a fic/hc storage of sorts.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

uh, technically a few years?. I've had a few different accounts that I always ended up forgetting about. But had never really used Tumblr until this past last year and a half.

4. do you have a queue tag?

I use the most simplistic 'queue' ... when I remember to put it on XD (which, I should, because I'm always so worried people think I'm in here ignoring them when in reality what I usually have is the longest queue)

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

Uh, long and boring story? xD. I started posting harringrove in my main a few months after I started using the account again, along with posts/reblogs for other fandoms. But with Tumblr being the chaos it is (for me at least, and for the way my poor add brain works) it felt pretty overwhelmed, having so many different things in one place, and never being able to find anything so I decided to make this one side-blog only for posting my fics, but then people started following me here and suddenly there were a bunch of them and then suddenly it felt like it made more sense?, rebloging things in here where more people could see them? so I made @thequarryatnight and started reblogging my stuff in there, so I wouldn't get crazy, and started using this as a more fandomish blog.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I love pictures taken from the side? xD, they’ve got this feeling, of looking at someone without them noticing. there’s a longing in there that’s always fascinated me, and steve’s breathtaking in this one (same as billy in my main pic, imo). i like to think billy'd look at him and think ‘fuck’, fall in love for the hundredth time so, yep. I love that pic.

7. why did you choose your header?

Is a picture of Santa Carla at night, aka Santa Cruz, where Lost Boys was filmed. Is my second favorite fictional town (first is Astoria i might have a list) and the feeling of it is just *chef’s kiss*. Had to have it. But I’m thinking of revamping it for the summer? maybe? I’ve got a few ideas, it’s been hard to decide, but I wanna bring out the summery vibe this year.

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

it’s apparently my upside-down kiss one! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out (i used this page since I had 0 idea of how to check this)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

i honestly don't know, but they all are amazing mutuals <3

10. how many followers do you have?

one of the best things about tumblr: doesn't show the follower count <3 (imo)

11. how many people do you follow?

about 1000? xD

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

if saying the first stupid thing that comes to my head in here is considered a shit post, then,t o o m a n y.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

I've been trying to reduce the number of times I come checking but still, way too many :D

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

nope. never. sometimes i want to leave my opinion in some posts, but i still feel pretty insecure about the language, so i'm perpetually afraid of being misunderstood.

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts

the ones with something good/bad is gonna happen if you don't reblog? i usually scream internally while i fast-scroll past them while both feeling like bwahhahaha and scared shitless.

16. do you like tag games?

oh i LOVE tag games too much.

17. do you like ask games?

very very much. even if sometimes i repent bc it's hard for me to find the time to answer them xD.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

dunno but @chichipafarolillos is my personal superstar <3

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

no xD but I really really <3<3<3 my mutuals.

20. tags?

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten @missroserose @rascheln @neonponders @cockasinthebird @thatharringrovehoe @edith-moonshadow @dyingontheharringrovehill @wholeshebangs @irishbeings @smashmouth-hargrove @mourntheantagonist @aestheticchaoss @somuchanemoia @cupidsintern

#xaskwithoneheadlight #tagged!!!#withoneheadlight

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romioneficfest · 3 years

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Romione FicFest 2021 - Kickoff Post

Good evening/afternoon/morning to everyone. Welcome to the FicFest 2021.

This year has a few additional upgrades including....

Gmail address for submitting all fics

Our own collection for Ao3

and currently working on headers and other décor as well as an updated FAQ. (This one is the one from Last year so working on a new update for it.)

If anyone needs audio in addition to alt-text for any graphics, please let me know so I can figure a way out to add it as well. But if no one does, then I’m not putting in the additional time which can be spent on other things.

*************************

Prompts

This isn’t a sign-up kind of fest but a prompt one. Since so many lovely people submitted prompts - across 4 entry points! - there will be plenty to choose from for writers. There’s various tropes & genres, settings and situations, and prompt words/ideas/items.

Day 1 prompting starts tomorrow @ 6pm GMT. Link to World Clock.

Pick 1 from the daily list. If you wish to incorporate more, more power to you. If there is something not on the list you want to write, there is a Free Day prompt going up sometime. Use it if there isn’t anything else you like.

Write it how you will - from the trope busting genre to using an object in an unusual way - heck, even take a prompt and crack it like Mary Wollstonecraft’s headstone - that’s fine for me. I love seeing the creativity in action.

For those who don’t speak English as a first language:

By all means, submit your work in English - but it doesn’t have to be perfect. No one (gives side-eyes to all entrants!) will hold it against you for not speaking perfect English (and if they do, they have to deal with me.)

Entries:

Want to write 50 entries? Send them all in. The more the merrier. Only have time for one? That’s great too. I take any and all entries - if they are under 1500 words. (Though if it was like last year and an entry is over such, it will still be posted but not entered into the voting for the prize(s).)

Only 2 things are exempt:

No Infidelity for the main couple. ‘Tis my squick - and my fest - so that’s my rule. It doesn’t mean anyone else isn’t open for such - but not Ron & Hermione. This is a fest for them, after all.

No bashing. Criticism is OK but not bashing.

Also, like last year, I will submit at least one. It will be labeled and ineligible for voting consideration. I win because I get to read the entries first.

Betas:

While they aren’t required, it does make for a more pleasant reading experience. If anyone needs a beta and doesn’t have one (or their normal one is busy) email/IM/DM me and I will post a need - and if no one reaches out, I will pinch-hit as a beta for you - and make note of it in the author’s notes for transparency.

Ratings:

Any rating is fine - from G to NC-35. I am the final arbiter on ratings & if I think that it’s rated too low, I will bump it up - or add tag warnings for it. Not everyone wants to read lemon citrus works or not safe for work items so active and ongoing consent is mandatory.

Also, if someone has a trigger warning they need me to keep in mind for any entries - no matter how embarrassing or strange you think they are - please let me know. Really. No judgment on my part on what is a trigger. No, I won’t ask why, either. That’s not my business. Your comfort for this fest is my business. That’s why Anonymous stays open.

Submission forms:

This year I have the email address up and running

[email protected] as well as the collection point on Ao3 up and going. But submitting it on the Tumblr form - and me doing the legwork - is there as well. If you email it in, it doesn’t have to be in Ao3 html markup. I have a script on Google Docs I use for that - and check it before entry. But if you do, it saves me much time on validation of the coding.

The less time I work on coding means more time for other stuff.

Back-stage administration:

All behind the scenes items are open for inspection so anyone saying I have my scaly talons on the voting/nudging anything will see that isn’t my objective. I win because A) I get to read these works first! and B) I get to watch healthy drama unfolding.

If there are any criticisms, I gladly accept them. I won’t bite if you put your name to your criticism and will take it in consideration. I have some amazing Romione writers who have already reached out to help the behind the scenes administration for this fest whom will help if there are any ethical or moral concerns. Come in blasting on anonymous and.... well, that never goes well. There’s ample rusted chainmail in my caverns from those who tried and failed. I have zero qualms blocking via IP address. So, please, be civil & cordial.

Voting

Yes, there will be voting again this year. I will, once again, put up a grand prize. While @hillnerd is too busy being amazing for art, I will find another suitable prize for the winner - and some prizes for the top 4. What they will be.... remains to be seen. Yes, this goes for everyone - including those internationally (I have my ways!)

I’m finishing up the links, updating headers, and other goodies. Stay tuned for further updates.

And if you want to turn on notifications, that’s brilliant too.

Sincerely from the bottom of my stone primed scaly talons,

#Hpevents #Romione FicFest 2021 #information posting #prompts go up starting tomorrow #no one claims anything #this is a free-for-all #like rogues raiding a dragon's horde of treasure #Randomizer will pick all the prompts #except free day which is my gift #I will enter a few but you will know it #and I am completely ineligible for any prizes

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entity9silvergen · 3 years

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Why Don’t you Play Me One of Your Songs? (Sanders Sides Fanfiction)

Summary: Logan professes his love for Patton through song.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Patton

Relationships: Logan/ Patton

Other Tags: Valentines Day, Band, Music, Song fic, BoJack Horseman, College

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1500

Chapter Count: 1 (Oneshot)

Written 2021

Author’s Note: As of when I started this, I’d written over 25,000 words for Aromantic Writing Month. With Valentine's Day coming up, I figured I’d take a break from that and write something short with romantic love. This fic was inspired by Judah’s song in BoJack Horseman. When I heard it, I immediately knew I had to write a fic where Logan sang it.

========

It was… How to describe it?

It was entropy.

In thermodynamics, entropy was defined as a measure of the unavailable energy in a closed thermodynamic system that is also usually considered to be a measure of the system's disorder, that is a property of the system's state, and that varies directly with any reversible change in heat in the system and inversely with the temperature of the system.

When Logan was retailing the story for Virgil, his roommate used a much simpler definition. Entropy is the tendency for chaos, the belief that things in order will move toward disorder. Logan had to admit that definition was a bit better suited for his situation. Virgil had called him dramatic and Logan agreed but the word truly fit.

Logan was working at his local library. He was a broke college student and it was about the best job he could get. He liked it just fine. He could get lost in aisles of books, far from the demanding world, and spend hours just organizing. He rather enjoyed it. That was until the library hired another student to man the cafe, that is.

Logan hadn’t liked Patton when he started his job. He was noisy, always striking up conversation with people coming in, and people eating his baked goods never followed protocol. Crumbs. Everywhere. So many that Logan even had dreams about crumbs getting in his beloved books. But when Logan had gone to talk to Patton about it, he found that he couldn’t.

Patton was sweet. And beautiful. Logan couldn’t say a negative thing to his face. He’d actually panicked so hard that he ended up leaving. That night when he came home, Virgil had laughed at him and told him to try to talk to him. It might do him some good to have a friend at work.

Logan had protested but followed Virgil’s advice and talked to Patton. Patton took to him with the same friendliness that he did with everything else. They became friends. And as time went on, Logan realized he was falling in love.

Which brought him to tonight. Or rather, that morning.

“Hey, Lo,” Patton greeted when Logan came by that morning and Logan’s heart had fluttered a bit at the nickname. “What’s that?”

Logan mentally froze for a moment before holding up the case in his hand. “This? It’s, um, my guitar. I’m in a band. A small one. We’re playing later.”

“I know. I saw the flyer.”

It took every ounce of Logan’s willpower not to glance at the bulletin board by the door. Why had he put the flyer up here? Where Patton could see it? Oh right, because Remy had told him they needed people to show up to their concerts if they were going to call themselves a band. But here? Really, Logan?

“So, um, I was just wondering why you hadn’t invited me? I was talking to Roman and Emile and it sounded like you invited everyone else.”

Logan felt a flash of guilt at Patton’s tone. Stupid, Logan. He mentally slapped himself Had he really been so caught up in worrying about his crush that he’d accidentally alienated Patton?

“I know you’re working tonight,” Logan said, the words coming to him with remarkable speed. Words had never failed him but he kind of wished they didn’t come so quick, not right now. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to put you in the position where you felt obligated to come or felt bad saying no.”

Patton’s face softened and Logan felt a bit better. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’d love to hear you play and I’d cancel my shift to-”

“No!” Logan cut him off before he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat. More calmly, he amended, “I mean, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m a college student too, I know how important these paychecks are.”

Patton looked doubtful. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“I am,” Logan responded in an even tone that didn’t match the storm of feelings in his chest. “Don’t worry yourself over it, Patton. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” Patton echoed but Logan was already stepping away from the counter and heading toward his beloved books, failing to see Patton’s disappointed gaze watching him walk away.

But Logan regretted it.

That night, standing up on that stage, he couldn’t help but feel crushing disappointment when he didn’t see Patton’s face in the crowd.

“Go to him, gurl,” Remy said, making Logan turn around, startled. The other man was leaned casually over his keyboard but his eyes were fixed on Logan. “We can survive without you.”

“But-”

“Hey, gurls!” Remy yelled at the crowd. “No vocals tonight! All vibes!”

The crowd cheered. Logan didn’t take offense. The confused glances of his other bandmates did offset him a bit and he offered them an awkward smile before thanking Remy. “Thank you.”

“No prob, gurl. Now get your ass out of here.”

Logan didn’t hesitate.

He’d carpooled here and he didn’t want to leave his bandmates hanging so he just ran. He ran like it was 7th grade PE and he needed to beat his record mile time to pass the class. He ran like Remus was chasing him with a booger on his finger. He ran like he was being chased by death itself.

He ran like he was in love.

But when he burst into the library, Patton wasn’t there.

Logan didn’t know he could feel such crushing disappointment.

He took a seat at one of the chairs at the cafe tables and crumbled. Under the weight of his despondency or out of exhaustion, he didn’t know. He just knew he felt hopeless. Right when he’d found the courage to tell Patton how he felt, he wasn’t even there.

But then he heard the door swing open and there Patton was. He looked stricken but relaxed when he saw Logan. He smiled and drifted over to one of the seats at the counter. “Hey, Lo.”

“Hello, Patton.”

“I closed early to go see you but you weren’t there. Someone told me you left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

They slipped into silence for a moment. Logan gazed into Patton’s eyes, seeing something unreadable in them. Patton didn’t look away.

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you play me one of your songs?”

Logan suddenly noticed he was holding his guitar case in a death grip. He swallowed and nodded, taking care to slip his guitar out of its case. It felt nice to have it in his hands. Grounding. And then the words came to him.

“I strive for precision.”

He sang slowly. His voice was almost hesitant. This wasn’t a song he’d written. It wasn’t a song anyone had written. Logan wasn’t a songwriter. He was awkward with words, always making sentences too long and lacking rhythm. But, he had an even voice so he sang. And sometimes the words just wrote themselves.

“My aim is to be accurate and clear.”

He was hopeful. It wasn’t something Logan could say often. He relied on concrete proof and evidence, not feelings. But hope was a nice feeling. He felt like he could do this.

“I don’t say things I don’t know to be true.”

There were few things Logan knew were genuine truths. This was one of them. He knew it deep in his heart. It resonated in his chest with the words as they formed. And that made him feel at peace.

“So believe me when I tell you I love you.”

His voice cracked halfway through. Logan didn’t look up to see Patton’s face but the words flowed to his mouth almost faster than he could keep up.

“I don’t write good love songs. I’m not adept with metaphors or rhymes. I just want to describe the things I know. And the only thing that I know is that I love you. Please believe me when I tell you…”

He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up from the strings of his guitar.

“I love you, Patton.”

And Patton smiled.

==============

Author’s Note: I tried a different writing style for this. There’s very little detail, more of a tell than a show story, and I did very little editing. Let me know if you like it. There’s a fine line between stylistic choices and bad writing.

#fanfiction #sanders sides #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #logic sanders #morality sanders #human au #college au #band au #songfic #bojack horseman #valentines day

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steviesays · 3 years

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January Fic Recs

ok so a ...... LONG time ago I made a fic rec list after reaching 1500 followers and I had a lot of fun doing it and now that I’ve decided to be multi-fandom I just wanted to share some of my favorite fics I've read in January so uhhh here goes :)

also pls know that most of them are going to be for FMA:B simply because thats my current hyper fixation but I’ll put what fandom each one is for ajadhfsa

Get A Hobby, Asshole by @borkthemork - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Ed tells Roy to take up cooking instead of working himself to death and he ...... takes that idea and decides to use it to work himself to death in true Roy Mustang fashion I love it so far

The Amestrian Candidate by @dyannehs - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Y'all know I LOVE a political drama WHEW omg this one is so good I think about it constantly!!!!! Roy is running for PRESIDENT and his campaign is MESSY! It recently went on hiatus but thats ok I will wait patiently until the next stellar update

Limited Release by rageprufrock - complete

Fandom: X-Men: First Class

This is the first x-men fic that had me hooked in a HOT second and made me remember how much I love cherik so if all my February fics are cherik .... mind your business anyway this one is actually very Alex Summers centered which I didn’t think I would like but the WRITING !!!! bby Scott is missing and the first class squad is part of the FBI so its a modern setting but there's still mutations aka a perfect storm

An Invite For Tea by @borkthemork - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Yes I did go read all of borkthemork’s works after reading Get A Hobby, Asshole and yes they were all great but this one right here ........ YALL. Roy and Riza TALK ???? and CUDDLE ???? and I fucking CRIED ??????? oh my god

*Also please just read everything they’ve posted so I don't have to list every single one and give bad summaries that no one wants to read

A Spoonful of Sugar by oretsev - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Riza owns a bakery and Roy opens a coffee shop next door. It is just as pure and wholesome as it sounds and I love it ....... so much ????

*I also binge read everything else orestev had posted on their AO3 after reading this one and everything was incredible I highly recommend :)

Deadeye by @existentialspacecowboy - in progress

Fandom: FMA:B

Roy and Riza are COWBOYS what other information do you need please read it immediately

My Girl Claudine by @leeloforever - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Team Mustang has a night out and their dynamic .... we absolutely love to see it

and i’m not trying to be with you, now by yourendlessblue - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

The only thing I love just as much as a political drama is, you guessed it, a DOCTOR AU !!!!!! also don't think I didn’t peep the Taylor Swift reference in the series name, my third mortal weakness

delicate by @lantur - in progress but its almost done and I genuinely don’t know what I’m going to do with my life when its finished

Fandom: FMA:B

You’re absolutely CRAZY if you think this one was not going to be on the list and I’m sorry it took this long to get here but here we are. What do I even say about this masterpiece ...... other than Riza Hawkeye is the love of my life. Thats it, thats the fic. And ANOTHER Taylor Swift reference in the title ???? I keep winning

*P L E A S E read everything else lantur has on their AO3 page the TALENT

Pyrolysis by raisingmybanner - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

OOF I love this fic ajasjdfsh and I know I've said that about literally every fic on the list and if I didn’t love them they wouldn't be here but ..... this one ????? YES ok so its Roy focused and goes from pre to post canon following him and Riza, and you may not have noticed but that premise is very much my current obsession and I need 50 more fics that are just like this one

Holding Out by Oort - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Riza tries on one of Roy’s gloves and thoughts begin to HAPPEN this one is short but I absolutely loved the writing

I can’t say the words out loud (so in a rhyme I wrote you down) by @hawkeyes-riza - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

ok so I was brought in by the Bastille lyrics and after reading this one spent like the next two days reading everything hawkeyes-riza has up on AO3 uhhhhh I LOVED this one its set the night before the promised day and its STEAMY

*after reading this fic I went through all of hawkeyes-riza’s other fics and I can confirm they are all A++++++

From Start to Beginning by SpaceFarm - complete

Fandom: FMA:B

Remember like 5 fic recs ago when I said my current obsession is pre to post canon royai :)))))) this one is so good you guys I literally cannot hype it enough

*ALSO I love love LOVED all the other royal fics SpaceFarm has up like you guys don’t even understand pls read EVERYTHING

ok ladies and gays thats the end of my list!!! I don’t think I’ve ever actually mentioned what my AO3 user is but its stevie1120 for anyone that was wondering!

I’m reading constantly but have never been much of a writer and I’m really bad at commenting but I’m trying so hard to get better at interacting lol but yes I am that weirdo that left kudos on all of your fics and you may have been wondering “hey how did she possibly read like 8 3k fics in one day” and the answer is that I literally have nothing better to do !!!! I love reading and I want to thank the authors that I mentioned here, and tbh all authors, so much for enabling my addiction and working so hard on bringing these characters that we all love to life!

If you know one of the authors who’s blogs I couldn’t find pls tag them in this post and tell them that I love them!!!!

I hope you guys enjoyed this post and I’ll see you in February :)

#also pls don't be afraid to share fic recs with me this can so easily be a two way street #ok its past my bed time goodnight #fic rec #fic recs #fma:b #x-men first class #fanfic #the way this is all fma and one x men fic that I stumbled upon on my feed BYE

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viskovie · 3 years

Text

Just A Guy On A Shady Backstreet

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Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1500±

Relationship: Tig Trager/Juice Ortiz

Warning for the tiniest amount of dub/con you've ever seen in your life. Minor season 7 spoilers, but only if you already know what the dots are that need to be connected.

Summary below~

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This is just a little reimagining of that scene where Tig and Rat are watching the Chinese storehouse (and Tig has to think fast when the workers leave… poor Rat…), because I read a gorgeous, sexy fic by @juicehoee and fell in love with the Chibs x Juice/Tig x Juice thing, so here's 1500 words of smut ♡ All my fics (unless specifically stated otherwise) are fix-its, so Juice isn’t in trouble with the club anymore.

ALSO: this is my first time writing for the SoA fandom, and also my first time writing a BJ scene so i hope it's up to standard! ♡ General disclaimer applies.

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“Would you quit fidgeting?” Tig snaps. He and Juice have been watching the Chinese storehouse for hours now, waiting for something to happen. Anything to break the monotony, really. It would’ve been bad enough just dealing with his own boredom, but Juice’s patience wore out in the first hour or so and he hasn’t stopped moving since. Every few seconds he wriggles in his seat, trying to find something to keep his attention occupied, but it seems he’s just in a restless mood.

He’d managed to get his feet up on the dashboard at one point, but then couldn’t get them down without kicking Tig in the stomach. Tig threatened to shut him in the trunk if he tried that again. Juice had said he was sorry, but he’d been fighting a grin the whole time and completely undermined the credibility of his own apology.

Tig shifts uncomfortably. His tailbone is steadily going numb, and he’s starting to get pins and needles in his toes. He adjusts the angle of his seat and tries to alleviate some of the pressure building in his lower back. Fuck, he’s really not as young as he used to be…

Suddenly, for whatever godforsaken reason, Juice decides to test his limits even further by popping his knuckles. One at a time. Tig glares at him, but he just shrugs and cracks his neck.

“I swear to god, if you start tapping your fingers I will rip them off.” He grumbles darkly. “You ‘n Chucky are gonna match.” Juice only laughs.

They’ve been waiting for another twenty minutes, during which time Tig seriously considers knocking himself out for a little peace, when there’s a commotion around the storehouse doors. He’s immediately awake, head back in the game and watching like a hawk. A couple of Chinese-looking guys load up a truck and hop in, glancing around suspiciously.

“Should we follow them?” Juice asks anxiously. Tig shakes his head.

“Nah.”

“Won’t they see us?”

“Yeah, but I’m just a guy on a shady backstreet getting cheap head.” Tig answers slyly, struck by an idea. Before Juice can fully register the implication, he's pushing his head down to his crotch. Juice struggles for a moment; probably just a natural reaction. Tig wouldn’t know. He covers his face with his free hand, peeking through his fingers and moaning lewdly for effect.

“Are you- are you serious?!” Juice chokes out, still trying to back up. Tig pushes his head down a little harder, willing him to shut up and sit quietly for a few minutes. Mercifully, the universe complies. For once. He tilts his head back again as the truck rolls past, carefully obscuring his face and Juice’s tats from the driver.

“They gone?” Juice mumbles. Tig decides it’s time for a little revenge.

“Nah, not yet.” He replies, rolling his hips a tiny bit. Juice makes a strangled sound as Tig’s clothed dick brushes against his cheek, and goes still. Tig moans again, but it’s a tad more real this time.

“Ah, baby, that’s it…” he adds wickedly. He’s ready for Juice to try to raise his head, but he’s absolutely not ready for him to do so just enough to undo Tig’s belt. He raises his eyebrows, not sure if he should stop him or not. It’s a rather foreign feeling. Juice smirks, dragging the zipper down like he’s got all the time in the world.

He squeezes Tig’s thigh with his other hand, rubbing his face against his stomach. He teases the waistband of his underwear as Tig curses himself for actually wearing them today. His body is beginning to react to the sensual touches, and as much as he wants to pull Juice off and never talk about this again, he also wants to see how far the kid is willing to go in calling his bluff.

Juice walks his fingers up and down his leg, getting closer and closer to his crotch every time. He glances up and Tig sees the uncertainty in his eyes. He nods, somewhat dazed, and Juice lowers his gaze to press a small kiss to his still-covered semi.

Absently, he strokes the short hair at the top of Juice’s head, unable to tear his eyes away from the marvel happening in his lap. Heat pools in his belly as his cock is carefully freed from his pants. He hears the little gasp from Juice, and manages to pull himself (sort of) back together.

“Juicy…” he murmurs, not quite sure what to say. Juice hums at the sound of his name and seems to take it as encouragement. His fingers are light and cool against Tig’s shaft as he begins to work him to full hardness. He nuzzles against his hip, warm breaths ghosting over the heated tip. Tig scrambles to make his brain work before Juice commits and does something they’ll both regret.

“Hey.” He says hoarsely, heart thumping. Juice pauses in his ministrations to look up at him. “You don’t- uh, you don’t have to do this. They’re gone.” He explains, gesturing vaguely out the window. Juice blushes.

“I know.”

“You kn-? Oh my god.” Tig groans as the grip on his cock tightens. It sends sparks rocketing up his spine like fireworks. He throws his head back against the headrest, unable to keep from bucking his hips into Juice’s hand. He opens his eyes just in time to see him lick his lips and spit on the head. Tig watches in awe as his cock slips past those pretty pink lips and into the wet, velvety warmth of Juice’s mouth, his head suddenly feeling full of cotton.

He isn’t aware he’s pushing him down until Juice pats his thigh urgently. He releases him with a muttered ‘sorry’ , but Juice doesn’t pull away. He just bobs a little, breathing hard through his nose. Tig knows he’ll be jerking off to this image for weeks.

Juice takes the last few inches bit by bit, swallowing as best he can around his length, using the tip of his tongue to tease the vein on the underside. He’s doing a damn good job of it, too - Tig’s always been proud to say that he’s by no means small or delicate, and especially not in the bedroom. Or, y'know... car.

He massages Juice’s scalp, getting a hum in return. It vibrates through his cock as spit slides over his balls in little rivulets. Juice’s throat constricts around him, and Tig jumps as he feels the faintest brush of sharp teeth. Juice snorts, petting his hip reassuringly. He draws almost all the way up, showing off the slick mess he’s making. Tig can’t decide if he wants to come in Juice’s mouth or on his pretty, flushed face. He notices peripherally that his other hand has disappeared from Tig’s hip - probably to palm at his own crotch.

He blinks innocently before dropping with the ease of a seasoned whore, tongue darting around the thick weight of his cock. Tig moans before he can stop himself, gripping Juice’s skull with both hands. Burning hot pleasure dances through him, and he can feel himself slipping. He doesn’t want to hurt the kid, but it’s been a long time since he’s had a blowjob this good and he’s starting to lose control.

Juice bobs his head like he’s done this hundreds of times before, his fingers flexing on Tig’s thigh. He swallows every now and then, muscles tightening deliciously, and looks up at him from under his long, damp eyelashes. Tig’s breathing heavily and his face feels hot. The whole world has narrowed down to their car, to this moment, to Juice’s lips around his cock.

“Baby…” he warns breathlessly. Juice pulls off with an obscene pop, panting. He nods, unshed tears glittering in his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Tig heaves a groan as he takes him all the way down to the hilt once more. He sucks hard and that’s it.

Tig’s hips jerk of their own accord as he spills down that divine throat, holding him firmly in place with an iron grip. His vision whites out for a moment in ecstasy. Juice’s tongue works as he struggles to swallow everything. After a long few moments, as Tig’s balls finally empty, he manages to get his eyes open again.

Juice is flushed and sweaty, his lips and chin a glistening mess of spit and come. Tear tracks shine on his cheeks but he looks proud of himself. Tig can’t help fucking into his pliant mouth once or twice, despite his small noise of protest, before gently easing him off and tucking himself back into his pants. Juice sits up, wiping his face on Tig’s shoulder. For a minute, they don’t say anything, but Tig’s never liked silence, so he breaks it the only way he knows how.

“Might have to let Diosa have you, baby boy.” He grins. “You’d make us big bucks with that mouth.” Juice rolls his eyes.

“Then you’d have to pay me.” He retorts, his voice scratchy and beautifully ruined. Tig raises an eyebrow.

“You talking back?” He accuses, mock seriously.

“I just sucked your dick for free. Yeah, I’m talking back.” Juice replies, settling into his seat. Tig laughs and turns the key in the ignition.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s get going before Jax decides to crucify both of us for being late.”

#sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #tig trager #juice ortiz x tig trager #unconventional ik #pls don't cancel me lmao #my writing #fanfic #i wrote this in three hours and edited it once

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