#I’m going insane I’m gonna log off and read some fic

[idy-ll-ique]

Paparazzi.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: TOO META, m*sturbation, mentions of s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me... Y/N Y/L/N writes Marvel fanfictions. One day, Sebastian stumbles upon her account and, unable to help himself, reads all the stuff she has written about him. He didn't mean to fall so hard for her but he does. How can he not? She has shown him parts of himself that he never even knew existed.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so a few weeks ago I read a similar (but dark) fanfic and I really wanted to write a softer version of it... Enjoy!

---

Same old, boring routine.

Y/N hit post and slumped against the headrest of her bed, sighing. She waited; a minute, then two passed and she noticed that someone had liked her post. She smiled to herself as she kept her phone away. Though boring, she wouldn't trade her life for the world. Y/N… well, she was a university student first and foremost but she was also a writer.

Being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, she had started writing fanfictions a few years ago. She posted them on Tumblr, where her blog, though not very well-known, stood out enough for her posts to get around 800-1000 likes per post. She loved it; she loved writing, she loved posting her stories and especially, she loved the feedback.

Sometimes people were rude, but most times, the reviews she got were fantastic. She read each and every one of them, smiling goofily as people freaked out over her fanfictions. It warmed her heart. A smile automatically blooming on her face, Y/N lay down on the bed and decided to go to sleep, it being almost 3 am.

Unbeknownst to her, someone else was up at the same time, tossing and turning in his bed, restless.

Sebastian sighed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. He drank some water and lay down again, closing his eyes but it was like sleep was mad at him. Refused to be anywhere near him. He groaned to himself and picked up his phone from the nightstand, deciding to go through Instagram, hoping he'd finally fall asleep to the glare of the screen.

As he logged into his account, he skipped the activity page and went straight to the explore page. Bored, he continued scrolling until his eyes landed on a specific photo. And the breath escaped his lungs when he clicked on it; the woman in the picture was absolutely gorgeous. He just couldn't resist going to her page, smiling widely when he read her bio.

It gave him her basic information; her name, her age, the university she attended. But what caught his eye was the link below the bio. My Marvel Fanfictions Master List. Marvel fanfictions? She was a writer? Smirking, he clicked on the link and it took him to Tumblr. Of course, he'd heard of the site, but didn't have an account on there. At 3 am, his mind sure wasn't working right.

A post popped up on the screen, the same master list she had mentioned earlier. And his eyes bulged out of their sockets; damn, those are a lot of fanfictions. He went through the whole thing, smirking again when he noticed that she had written the most fanfictions about him. Not Bucky Barnes, no, Sebastian Stan.

He clicked on the first one. The date of posting was way back, in 2019. He started reading; nothing about it felt weird to him; he was intrigued, if anything. And as he continued reading, he couldn't help but imagine her being in the stead of the female protagonist. Her, the writer. The woman whose picture had made him end up reading in the first place.

When he finished the story, his heart thudded wildly in his chest. Wow, she really has a way with words. And he had also noticed how in the author's note, she used a lot of slang but reading the story had made him realize that she had an amazing, extensive vocabulary. He went back to the master list and clicked on the latest post under his name.

Posted: 15 minutes ago.

His breath hitched in his throat when he read the warnings: there was going to be sexual intercourse in this one. For one moment, he hesitated; did he really want to read this? "Oh fuck it," he huffed and scrolled, starting to read. The more he read, the more his shaft twitched in his pants. He wasn't really like that during… but oh damn, he wasn't complaining.

"Oh, Seb…"

His hand slid down and he rubbed himself through his boxers, unable to take his eyes off the text in front of him. His strokes got harder and faster as the sex got steamier. "Ungh, I'm gonna cum—" And he suddenly came in his boxers, groaning. Slumping down on the bed, he quickly finished reading the rest of it, going back to the master list.

He took a screenshot with the account's name in it and then went back to her Instagram account to take another screenshot. Keeping his phone away, he slipped out of his boxers, cleaned himself and pulled the covers on top of him, finally feeling tired enough to fall asleep.

---

Y/N was walking across the campus of her university, going to the cafeteria when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking it out, she opened Tumblr to read the message someone had sent her just then.

his-username: Hi there! I was binging your account last night, you write really well

your-username: Omg thank you!!!! I really appreciate it, I love getting feedback! 🥺❤

his-username: You're welcome! Especially your latest post, that was really good ;)

your-username: hehe 😈 glad you liked it!

Smiling widely, she kept her phone away and continued walking, not knowing that the person who had texted her was the same man she had written about. Sebastian smiled to himself when he read her text. After getting up in the morning, the first thing he had done was install Tumblr on his phone. Then he made an account for himself.

Figuring out the app was easy; he found out that there was an option to keep your liked posts and the accounts you followed hidden, and selected it immediately. No one needed to know what he did on the app. Then he went back to her account, pressed the follow button and started binge-reading her fanfictions again. Last night had he read only two, and that had left him wanting more.

Funny how much things can change in a night. He liked and reblogged all her posts without a second thought; he even read all her Bucky Barnes posts. She understood his character so well, put him on what he thought was an undeserved pedestal while writing about him. Some of the stories were AUs, which he found out stood for Alternate Universes. Mostly mobster or mafia stuff.

He had the day off, and he spent the entire time cooped up in his apartment, on his bed, reading. The more he read, the more he started fawning over her, over the version of him that she put out to the world. Dominating, suave and just perfect. He loved it. At the end of the day, he decided to text her again, hoping she wouldn't think he was weird or find out the truth.

his-username: do you wanna be friends, maybe? I'm new to the app, don't really have any friends here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

That was a lie, he knew Mark Ruffalo had an active Tumblr account. But it's not like he could tell him.

your-username: Yes sure!!!! I was also thinking of making some friends on this app lol

his-username: You don't have any on here? But you've been here for years, haven't you?

your-username: haha yeah, but I don't really reach out to people much. Sometimes people leave their feedbacks on my posts, text me but that's that

his-username: Ohhh

his-username: well, let's start with names. Mine's Sebastian

your-username: Really?????? omg that's so cool lmaooooooo (didn't think you were a boy but 😳👀)

his-username: Not a boy, I'm a man 😤😂

your-username: 🤣 im y/n, btw

his-username: Y/N, that's a nice name

your-username: thank you!!!! So, what do you do?

his-username: nothing really that interesting, I'm in theatre

your-username: theatre is nice! I'm studying at [university] in New York lmao

his-username: Wait you're in New York? So am I!

your-username: ASDFHKSHKGF that's awesome!!! also I noticed that you've been going through my account the whole day 😏 notifications upon notifications keeping my phone busy

his-username: Oopsie?

your-username: 😂😂 I really don't mind, it was great! Despite the amount of likes on my posts, I only have a few loyal followers lmao gaining one more felt nice

your-username: You a big fan of Sebastian Stan? Cuz I noticed that you were only reading his and Bucky's fics 👀

Sebastian's face heated up.

his-username: kinda yeah 🤷🏻‍♂️😁

your-username: Cool cool cool, I'm a big fan of his too!!!! also got a crush on him but whatever 😳

Sebastian smirked at his phone. A crush on him, huh? That… was acceptable. He suddenly felt his cocky side coming out; the one she described in nearly all her fanfictions.

his-username: wouldn't blame ya, I mean, look at him. You have also written the most fics about him and Bucky

your-username: right????? damn that man has raised my standards. Anyway, I gtg now, I have to finish a paper before midnight. ttyl!

his-username: Bye! 👋🏻

He kept his phone away and took in a deep breath. This was the most fun he had had in years, and he was not letting her go so easy. He realized he was quickly falling for her; rather unhealthy, but he couldn't help it. Look at her. She looks like a goddamn angel, writes like one, makes him feel like one, do you really expect him not to fall for her? That's insane.

---

Months passed by like a breeze. Y/N and Sebastian had become very good friends, and he knew his way around words just enough to keep her from finding out his identity while not lying to her. Y/N also appreciated his friendship, because he was the one to whom she could rant about her most favorite man in the world— Sebastian Stan.

Sometimes, she thought about how weird of a coincidence it was that her new friend and the actor shared the same names, but then she used to brush it off; that was a common name, right? They talked for hours on end; Sebastian (her friend, not the actor) was extremely witty, smart and fun to talk to, she had to admit. Sebastian felt the same way.

His feelings had worsened. Y/N entirely owned his heart now. Somedays, he'd just go on Instagram, go to her account— her username memorized by him— and stare at her photos until he grew tired; he'd never get tired of looking at her beautiful face but his stiff body afterwards begged to differ. She was just so Elysian. He longed for the moment when he could meet her in real life.

His personality had also changed majorly, and people had caught on. Especially his Marvel co-stars, who knew him to be introverted, shy and, in Anthony Mackie's words, "boring". They were surprised at his sudden change in attitude; he knew his worth and Y/N had helped tremendously in finding it. Now, all those adjectives that she used in her fanfictions fit him perfectly.

Sebastian was never tempted to read fanfictions about himself from authors other than Y/N. No, he only loved her work. He was sure no one else could write as beautifully as she did, he was her #1 fan. Y/N even sent him funny Marvel memes she found on the app and he used to enjoy them heartily; God, the others have no idea what they're missing out on. Our fans are awesome.

Everything was going well.

Until one day.

Sebastian was getting bored at home, so he decided to go to the nearby library to clear his mind. He had read not one book in the past few months, hung up on Y/N's fanfictions. At this point, he was obsessed with her and he knew it. It was nothing dark, per se, it was— it was similar to how Y/N was attracted to Sebastian. How she was a fan of his work.

Just the same. He was a fan of her work in the same way. Just how she was attracted to him, he was attracted to her. Walking into the library that he visited often, he gave the librarian a smile and ventured further into the dark place. He checked his watch; the library closed at 12 am, it was currently 9:30 pm.

Not many people were around, heck, nobody was around. He thought himself to be all alone until he heard it. A sigh, coming from a few aisles away. He walked in that direction and peeked around the corner, freezing when he saw the other person. Y/N? Her books were strewn all across the table as she sat alone at the booth, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?"

She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. I'm dreaming. This is not real. Now I know for a fact that Sebastian Stan is not standing in front of me, asking me if I'm— "Hello?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts. "I, uh— I'm— h-hi," she stammered and he almost chuckled. "Hi." She gulped visibly and blinked at the table, not meeting his eyes.

"Can I have a seat?" He wants to sit with me?! "Y-Yes, sure, sir," she blurted out and he easily slid into the booth next to her. "Hey, please, call me Sebastian. What's your name?" He gave her a friendly smile, even though all he wanted to do was push her back into the booth and kiss her wildly. His shaft twitched just by thinking about it; Y/N was a thousand times more beautiful in person.

"I'm Y/N, it's very nice to meet you, I'm… I'm a fan," she admitted, playing with the ring she wore on her left thumb. I'm your fan too, sweetheart, the biggest one. "Y/N, nice name. You come here often? I haven't really seen you around." She shook her head. "Oh no no, I moved to this part of the city just a week ago, this is my first time here. The library is cozy," she shrugged, easing out of her tense position.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know, this place is awesome. Got all my favorite books here," he chuckled and she smiled at him. "What's all this?" A groan left her lips. "Ugh, stupid university work. I have to write a book report but I don't even know what to write about." He smiled gently. "Well, I have a few favorite books, would you like some suggestions?"

"Oh, please! Tell me!"

He started listing some of his favorite works and Y/N noted the names down until he said the last name. At that, she froze. That's the name of my latest— She looked up but he had a smile on his face. "Oh, and the last one is by my favorite author." He took a pause. "Y/N Y/L/N." She froze completely, staring at the man with her jaw dropped.

Sebastian grinned. "We finally meet, Y/N, I've been waiting for months." Her mouth opened and closed several times as she recalled every interaction she had had with her online best friend— scratch that— her celebrity crush. All the times she had confessed her love for Sebastian Stan, all the dirty and inappropriate memes that she'd sent him…

Embarrassment flooded her entire body as she exhaled shakily. "It was you," she croaked out, "On Tumblr, the account— I'm so sorry—" Sebastian frowned in confusion when she blinked back sudden tears, a few still rolling down her cheeks as shame replaced embarrassment. "Y/N, please don't cry…" She looked up at him, his figure blurry due to her tears.

"You've read everything, haven't you? I just— I'm sorry, I don't want to make you uncomfortable—" He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Y/N couldn't hug back, though she appreciated the hug especially since it came from him. "You don't know how much you mean to me, doll," he mumbled into her shoulder, using the nickname she often used in the stories she wrote about him. He grew accustomed to it easily.

"Huh?"

He pulled away to wipe her tears. "It was an accident," he admitted, "But I stumbled onto your Instagram account from my explore page. Then I clicked on your account, saw that you wrote Marvel fanfictions and I just couldn't resist the urge to read what you had written. Blame it on 3 am me, to be honest. You're a great writer, and I was immediately drawn to your works. They're awesome.

"They've helped me so much in the past few months. You see this changed attitude that everyone's been talking about lately? All because of you, sweetheart. I'm sorry for keeping my identity secret, but after reading your works, I knew I had to get closer to you. I made the Tumblr account just for you, just so I could talk to you. I'm sorry for lying, but thank you."

Y/N dumbfoundedly stared at him for a few moments, her heart beat getting steady with each thump. Here was a man she admired, loved more than anyone else in the world, telling her that he harbored the same feelings for her. How crazy was that?! Not trusting her words, she simply pulled him into another hug. Sebastian wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her flush against him.

"Can I kiss you, doll?"

She slowly pulled away from him and nodded, shyly biting her lip. Grinning at the endearing gesture, Sebastian cupped her face and leaned in, gently pressing his lips to hers. The kiss grew hungry in a matter of seconds, and Y/N responded just as eagerly. His hands slid down to her waist and tugged on it, pulling her on his lap. She straddled his thighs as they continued kissing.

"Fuck," he groaned when they finally pulled away from each other, out of breath and panting. "You see what you do to me, doll?" Sebastian spoke huskily as he took her hand, placing it right on top of the tent that was forming in his pants. "Oh," Y/N whimpered when she felt him, the sound going straight to his shaft. "How about I take you home and we recreate some of the scenes from your stories, hm?"

"O-Okay."

"Good girl."

---

A/N: What a meta experience 🤡 Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (8)

Masterlist

Pairings: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wanda lets you have a little freedom and you take advantage of it.

Warnings: dark themes

A/N: I was going to do one long part to show the aftermath/consequences of what the reader did, but decided to leave you on a cliffhanger instead 😏 you have my permission to yell at me for it though. I’ll be posting part 9 tomorrow!

Previous part

-

“Hey, printsessa.”

You looked up from your bowl of cereal, offering Wanda a smile that widened as she approached, placing a gentle palm on your cheek when she leaned down to kiss you.

“Good morning, Wan. I’m almost done,” you added as you gestured to your bowl, and she shook her head.

“That’s not what I came over here for, although we do need to leave soon.”

“Oh, then what’s going on?” you questioned before shoveling your last spoonful in.

“I wanted to give you this.” She grabbed your hand and turned it over, dropping an iPad into your palm. “My meeting at the tower will be pretty long and then we have to wait another hour or so for Tash to get back from her mission, so I don’t want you to get bored. I downloaded all the games you like and a reading app.”

“Thank you, Wan.”

She responded to your gratitude with a kind smile and a kiss on your forehead, grabbing your dishes as she pulled away and taking them over to wash. You unlocked the iPad, using the time Wanda was distracted to quickly download Instagram and log in. A few DMs popped up once the app loaded, and the one that caught your eye first came from your ex-girlfriend, Brittani Gray.

Hey! I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but I’ll be in your city this week for work! I hate to be so last minute, but I’m only free to meet today.

The message was sent an hour ago, and you found yourself quickly responding to her before you had time to think about your actions. You named the place you wanted to meet in and closed the app, switching over to a game just as Wanda walked away from the sink.

“Ready to go?” she asked and you nodded sweetly, your expression dripping in false innocence.

-

“There she is!”

You looked up from subconsciously counting the tiles in front of your feet, meeting the eyes of the billionaire that owned the tower you just entered.

“You must be the girlfriend. Tony Stark, nice to meet you, kid.”

You told him your name and extended a hand, fighting the urge to roll your eyes or gag when he grabbed and planted a kiss on the back of it. He then moved on to address Wanda, and you wandered over to a nearby armchair, removing the iPad from the little crossbody satchel you were given to carry it in. You plugged in earbuds and turned on some music while you kept yourself busy with another game until a hand touched your knee.

“Hey.” Wanda’s eyes seemed to sparkle when you met her gaze, and you couldn’t help the look of adoration you gave her. “I’ll be upstairs, but if you need something you ask one of the secretaries to call me. Love you, baby.”

A kiss was dropped on the top of your head before she quickly walked away with Tony, and you knew she was probably kicking herself for the declaration. Despite how much the two enjoyed controlling most aspects of your life, the one thing they never pushed for was a confession of love. Natasha and Wanda knew they loved you, but they wanted you to have the freedom to realize it on your own, so they made it a point not to use the phrase until then.

Another hour or so passed while you busied yourself with sudoku, crosswords, or the occasional coin collecting game until you got bored with it. You then moved onto people watching until a notification came in from Instagram.

I’ll be there in about 20 minutes!

You quickly logged out and deleted the Instagram app, tucking the device away safely in the bag as you got up and exited the tower. Walking to the main street, you quickly hailed a cab, double-checking that the cash you swiped a few days ago while Wanda took a shower was still in your pocket. You paid the driver once you were dropped off and went inside the building.

“Brittani?” you called, your lips forming a grin when she faced you. “Hey! How are you?”

“Hey, I’m great!” she replied as she brought you into her embrace, examining you head to toe when she pulled away. “What about you? I have to imagine pretty well...you’re definitely glowing.”

“Really?” you questioned almost sarcastically with an incredulous expression.

“Yeah, you seem happy.”

“Happy to see you as usual,” you told her casually as you looked around the café. “I’m gonna grab a table while you order.”

“You don’t want anything? My treat.”

“Well, I already ate but I’ll take a--”

“Smoothie?” she finished for you with a teasing grin. “I already know which one.”

You laughed and shook your head as you stepped away to find a table far from the street side of the building, not wanting to be seen by anyone that knew your girlfriends. Brittani sat in front of you a few minutes later with her coffee and muffin, handing your smoothie and a straw over and beaming when your hands brushed.

“You know, as happy as I am that you agreed to meet, I’m very surprised to be sitting here with you now.” She glanced at your confused frown and continued. “Even though things didn’t end terribly between us, I’d always assumed you moved so far to get a fresh start and let go of everything in the past or something.”

“I guess in a way I did but...I don’t know.” A heavy sigh left your lips as you turned your attention to your smoothie. “I was pretty depressed when we broke up because I hadn’t been single in so long. I didn’t know how to handle it and every reminder of you made me angry. I’d planned to go even farther away than this.”

“What stopped you?” she questioned curiously, and her gentle tone helped you feel safe enough to meet her gaze again.

“I just thought that if I was going to move anywhere, it should be for me and not because I’m running from something or someone. So I thought a lot about what I really wanted, did some research and somehow ended up in New York.”

“Well I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she confessed as she leaned forward to grab one of your hands. “Breakup or not, we were friends first, and it feels so weird to not have been there for a rough moment in your life.”

“I know, but everything went how it should’ve,” you assured her, laying your other hand on top of hers. “Had you been there, I would’ve tried to be with you again and I never would’ve learned the things about myself that I did.”

“I’m glad it all worked out then. So have you dated since then or…?” Your eyes widened a bit in panic and she quickly pulled her hands away. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“No no, it’s okay.” Your own hands shifted back to your smoothie, and you took a sip with a smile. “So, I see you got that promotion you wanted.”

The conversation moved on from there to details about her job, and she explained all the traveling and salary increases that came with it. You found it easy to listen to her, even though you didn’t understand half of what she was saying, simply enjoying the normalcy of it all. Although you were able to find little moments of enjoyment in your insane relationship with Natasha and Wanda, it’d been a while since you just sat in a public place with someone who wasn’t looking over their shoulders for an enemy most of the time. It was nice.

“So then we somehow ended up with 60 pieces of dessert even though we only ordered 20!”

“Britt, I’m not seeing the problem here.”

She cackled loudly in a contagious way that made it so easy to join in. The two of you were so caught up in laughing that neither of you noticed someone approaching your table until you felt a stern hand gripping the back of your neck and Natasha’s cold voice in your ear.

“You have ten seconds to get in the car before I drag you there myself.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @fayhar @cherrieloco @mjaudrey @seventeen0 @bebe404 @becka107 @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @messuhp @sxphiaswitch @muted-stoneheart @trikruismybitch @wannabe-fic-reader @natashadeservedmore @darkangelxoxo @witchxaf @sakurat123

[anika-ann]

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo​ is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

[gaming-thoughts-by-an-idiot]

Skyrim: building house

Benor: I'm still here

Me: yes and I hate you

"Ok buying logs, ok discovering places, where... wheres that idiot? Did I..  did I fucking leave benor at the house, I swear to god"

"I really love the mod where you actually see other NPCs wandering, it's really nice"

"3rd pov? Nah nah, I want to be 3rd 3rd pov"

"Oh no its raining again, which was a mod and I'm glad I wasnt just going insane"

"Ofc I will help you poor hunter, all your friend are dead, have a potion, I will kill the tree people "

"I swear I just saw someone running into the cave"

"Oh, I did and it was a vampire... why?"

"Good thing of being an experienced skyrim gamer, is that I know where all the secret loot is"

"If you want easy caps you should explore a cave... wait caps? no, coin. Jesus"

Me: ok I'm going here, no side tracking

Me not five seconds later: but that cave looks closer than my goal and and--

"God... I love all this blood. Said no girl ever."

"Ok wtf, where is benor? Fuck???"

"Gonna check riverwood, I dont get it why but?"

"Didnt I find him in riverwood?"

" maybe I didnt find him here..."

"Where oh!!! AH !"

"...heh... I forgot I actually downloaded like a, bikini mod shit. Theres so many of them, I had to! Also pff"

"Aaand I was gonna put one on my character and the game crashed. I think god was telling me off"

"Oh shit, I cant remember when I saved last"

"Oh ok, thank god for auto saves"

"Am I a bad person cuz I wanna kill every parent so I can put them all in an orphanage?"

"Collect them all"

"Mortal that's where I found him, yes, I fucking hope hes there"

Benor: we've stopped--

Me:WHERE THE FUCK HAVE U BEEN?? WHY ARE JUST HERE? DID I SAY U COULD GO? NO YOU WHORE

"Is he broken? He wont follow me, and if I leave him he wont?"

"Hes broken yup."

"Guess I'll just take all my shit back and leave him then"

"Fuck. Me. Over 2k in Carryweight"

".... the list is so long... I'm gonna read a fanfic while pressing A"

"Oh god no, where's the guys who I'm thane to where no-"

"Well, when I take my slug time to my house, I'll just read this fic"

'' cant believe a crab interrupted my reading, wow #rude "

"Omg I made it, it took a chapter but I'm here finally "

"I found the guy, hes now my steward"

"I'm really starting to wonder what I keep in my pockets"

"I cant wait until i have high enough speech to sell people all this shit I've stolen"

" ok it's time to put on our 'I'm only here to shop and not fight' clothes, bring a dagger just in case, and sell some stuff while I'm there"

"Excuse me you just said this wasnt marked as stolen, why are u like this"

"Ok that HAVE to be a glitch... I was at the fancy pansy clothing store in solitude, and one of them women followed me outside, normal, fine. I fast travel to Markarth, and shes there? Ok weird, fast travel back home. AND THERE SHE IS?"

"Basically I'm just spending all my well earned, and totally not stolen, coins on work material."

Ulfric: *bleh bleh life is shit*

Me: dont mind me, I'm just here for a book

Them: you! You there

Me: nnnope

"Well, while I'm here... might as well steal some shit"

"Omg I cant find my potions?? Aa my head hurts, I've looked in all the containers what the fuuuuckkkkkk"

"WHAT THE FUCK??? There was a sack WITHIN a sack???? Like ok what??? Augh my head, I got so confused, and stressed....."

"Ehehehe, quest time"

"Ok where am I going"

"This is upsetting, not only am I about to do quests, but I have to go outside irl? Why? What have I done to deserve this. Hmm? I planned this? Well, curse past myself then!!"

[yeeter-parkor]

Stucky fic!

Pre-war StevexBucky sickfic

You can read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957554

summery: Unlicked Cub- (Noun)- A loutish youth who has never been taught manners; from the tradition that a bear’s cub, when brought into the world, has no shape or symmetry until its mother licks it into form with her tongue; ill-trained, uncouth, and rude.Bucky has no idea how he is keeping his best friend alive.

Bucky knew the moment he woke up that day that Steve was sick. Call it what you want, intuition, reasoning, a superpower. Or maybe he could telepathically communicate with the idiot he's befriended. For some reason. He just knew that he should be getting his ass out of bed and out the door in three minutes or less, because his tiny angry best friend was about to get very close to death.

So he was surprised to find that his friend was fairly chipper when he opened the door to the closet of an apartment his friend saved up for with Bucky’s mom. Steve never really felt good , but he didn’t look bad either. It was very hard to make Steve Rogers look bad, he just had one of those faces. He was sweeping the floor, something that needed to be done since winter had started and the soot had filled the room from the tiny stove they’d bought last year. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and ankles as he watched his friend work.

It was rare that Steve ever felt good enough to even get up from the bed, let alone have been awake and doing housework for a while. Steve propped the broom up in the corner and walked from there to the window, under which they kept the wood that Bucky'd chopped that fall. He didn’t step in uptil he saw Steve almost topple over from trying to pick it up on his own.

“You’re ‘bout to fall flat punk,” Bucky said, walking behind him. Steve jumped, dropping the wood about a inch away from his foot, making Bucky wince. “Geeze, you actually have a death wish, huh?”

“Bu- what ‘er yah doing here?” Steve asked. Bucky smiled. Even when he’s healthy his hearings pretty bad. Most of the time he couldn’t hear Bucky unless he practically shouted in his ear. Even now he undoubtedly couldn’t hear him walk in just now.

“Jus’ decided to show up an’ give ya a heart attack,” Bucky said, taking three logs over to the stove and propping one in quickly, before turning back to his best friend. “You okay?”

Steve scowled at him, crossing his stick thin arms. Bucky smiled, looking down and bumping his shoulder. Bucky’d gotten even taller in the last three months, and Steve decidedly hadn’t. He wasn’t even up to Bucky's shoulder anymore, and he was salty about it. “ course ‘m okay. Why don’t you think that?” Steve asked.

“I donno, just a hunch,” Bucky said. Steve shook his head.

“I wanna go for a walk today,” Steve said, looking outside. It was a cold day, the kind where the air felt like it was cutting you, and the sky looked like shimmery glass. “You wanna come?”

“Go for a walk? Are you insane? Stevie it’s like, negitive fuck’n twenty out there.” Bucky said. Steve just shrugged. “I can wear my wool sweater.”

“The one that you threatened to cut into pieces last week because it made your skin itch so bad you thought you’d explode.” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please? I haven't been allowed out for months. If I don’t get out with you, I’m sneaking out this window. I swear it Buck.” Steve said, scowling up. Bucky sighed.

“Fine. but if I see yah doin’ anything like the fair incident last month I’m marching yah straight back, you understand.” He said, placing a hand on Steve's boney shoulder. Steve pumped a fist, smiling.

“I’ll be well behaved Buck,” Steve said. “Yah know me,”

0o0o0o

Bucky couldn’t believe it. Or rather, he could believe it, but he really didn’t want to. He had turned away for a grand total of maybe three minutes to go back and grab a coat, and Steve was gone. He sighed, folding Steve’s coat over his arm, and climbed up onto a rail, trying to see Steve’s head from the depth of the crowd.

He couldn’t see his blonde friend, and he was about ready to start checking nearby allies, when he heard a commotion near the river. Craning his neck he could see almost forty people gathered around it, some of them yelling, some silend, and a few seemed to be trying to reach something inside. Shaking his head, he followed the crowd. If there was a protest Steve would be there.

“What’s going on?” He asked when he got close enough. The gentleman to his left, wearing what was clearly a repurposed flour sack, shook his head.

“Er, little boy,” The man said, shaking his head. “Very small. He jumped a moment ago. After a young child.” He had a heavy accent that Bucky couldn’t place. “Is sad, two will die this winter now.”

“The kid who jumped after him, what did he look like?” Bucky asked, standing on his toes to see if he saw Steve’s head anywhere.

“Eh, very small. Yes, maybe twelve, thirteen. He did not look healthy.” the man said. “Blond. Why, do you know him?”

“Thank you sir,” Bucky said, before slipping past him to walk up in front of the group of people. By the time he got there, a young girl, maybe five, was coughing up water on the side of the street while her parents hugged her. Steve bobbed in the water next to them.

“Steven,” He said. Steve jerked his head up at that, fixing him with his intense blue stair. He didn’t even have the manners to look sheepish.

“He-ey Buck.” Steve said. Bucky wrapped a hand around his skinny arm and yanked him out of the water, starting the trek back before Steve could protest. Steve’s frail body jerked up, and Bucky almost drew his hand away in surprise. There was zero warmth in his entire body. Bucky was pretty sure his dead father was warmer under the earth. “You found the jacket.”

O0o0o0o

As Bucky suspected, within four days, Steve was sick as a dog. Despite Bucky's best efforts to try and keep him warm, the punk just couldn’t retain body heat. He’d dragged the limp mattress just under the window, hoping the weak sunlight may help warm him up. Before he used to put the ‘bed’ by the stove, but after Steve had accidentally gotten second degree burns after rolling over in his sleep, he’d decided against doing so again.

Bucky only left this last night because he needed to make sure his own Ma was okay. He’d felt bad leaving her with his last sister, but she’d assured him that her and Barbra were fine, and to make sure Steve was alright. She’d known Steve about as long as Bucky had been alive, and she would rather make sure he was okay then let Bucky braid her daughters hair.

“Stevie?” He asked, swinging around the doorway. Steve didn’t move. He took his hat off the peg, tossing it at Steve’s sleeping figure. Steve still didn’t move, aside from shivering slightly. “Steve?”

Steve’s lack of movement was starting to scare him. Bucky walked across the small apartment in five efficient strides. He kneeled down beside his friend, pressing his hand on Steve’s bony shoulder. Steve shuttered, sleepily turning into his light grasp. Bucky cursed sourly enough to make his Ma cuff his ears.

Steve was burning up, his hair sticking up all over the place. Surprisingly, his skin was dry, probably a sign that his fever had yet to break. He pressed down, turning his friend to look at his face. “Stevie?”

Steve didn’t wake up, just shivering in response. Bucky was actually starting to get really worried at this point. He picked the little jerk up, about a foot, and slammed him back into the matrice, wincing when a cough wracked the thin body. Steve finally sat up, leaning far forward as he continued hacking. Bucky always hated waking him up that way, he’d had to do it many more times then he’d liked.

“You with me punk?” He asked. Steve nodded, his coughing not stopping. Bucky sat there, rubbing his back while he wheezed. Steve leaned into him, finally catching his breath enough to talk.

“Heb, Bubk… bhy are you… hebe?” Steve asked, sounding stuffed up.

“Come on asshole, let's get you upright,” Bucky said, grabbing onto his twig arms and pulling him upright. He kept a tight hold while Steve swayed, clearly light headed. Despite his grip, Steve pitched forward, resting his head on Steve’s chest.

“Thanks,” Steve said, already sounding less congested. Still, his breath rattled in his ribcage and Bucky was holding up almost all of his, rather unimpressive, 87 pounds. He coughed again, dry and weak, and Bucky felt his face contort.

“Stop trying to talk you minikin,” Bucky said, rubbing his hand up and down Steve’s back. Steve shivered again, and pressed closer, presumably for body heat. Yeah, that’s what that was for.

“‘M not a minikin,” Steve said. “Jerkface.”

“Punk,” He replied. He didn’t see, but rather felt Steve smile into his shirt.

“Sneaksby,” Steve muttered.

“Rascal,” Bucky contorted, hiking Steve up a little to take on more of his body weight.

“Shabberoon,” Steve said. Bucky faked a gasp.

“Why you take that back. I dress better than the both of us combined,” Bucky said. Steve laughed weakly, leading to more coughing.

“‘An I lie down ag’n?” Steve asked. He seemed pretty damn tired, almost falling over when Bucky loosened his grip.

“Tell ya what, why not we both sit down, alright?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded and Bucky slowly lowered the two of them onto the matrise. Steve snatched the thin blanket that had been thrown off him earlier and curled around it. Bucky kept his arm firmly around him still, trying to keep him as still as he could.

“Yah know,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “ ‘M glad ‘m sick.” He said, leaning closer to Bucky and shivering again. Bucky tightened his arm around him, wishing he had something more to help his friend, other than insults and hugs.

“Glad you’re- Steve, you barely made it out of the last cold you had! Why the fuck would you- what are you shaking your head for rascle?”

“ ‘cuz now I know the girls aight.” Steve said, wrapping himself around Bucky again. Bucky swore, before hugging him tighter.

“You know you’re gonna be the death of you, right nimrode?” Bucky asked.

“Wouldn’t ‘av it any oth’r way.”

0o0o0o0o

Steve did eventually doze off, only to wake up sicker and decidedly less coherent. “ ‘ucky” He muttered, tucking his head under Bucky's chin. He laughed a little in spite of himself, rubbing his friends back.

“Hey, you get some sleep?” He asked. Steve just groaned.

“ ‘ow long wazz I ou’?” He asked. Bucky could barely understand him.

“Maybe ‘n hour or so,” He said, petting Steve's head. “You still feel really hot Stevie.”

“Oh, yah ‘ink ‘m hot?” Steve asked, laughing at his own joke, which quickly turned into coughing. Bucky sat up, propping Steve so he was leaning on his chest.

“Come on scamp, breathe with me, you know the drill,” Bucky said, pressing Steve's bony hand to his chest. Steve tried to take a shuddering breath, and half succeeded, before doubling over himself. Bucky would never admit it to anyone, but seeing Steve cough like this scared him. Really really scared him. Part of him wished he could run away, not have to deal with any of it. But then he wouldn’t get to deal with any of it.

See his problem?

“That’s right, you got it,” Bucky said, rubbing Steves back. Steve still shook under his hands, and his breath was wheezy and halting, but he could breathe again. “Nice and steady.”

“I been… breathing sense I was… born Buck I think… I got it down…” Steve said, still out of breath.

“Well you prove that to me and maybe I’ll leave you alone, huh?” Bucky asked. Steve gave a half hearted chuckle, before turning to press his face into Bucky's shirt. He still sounded like he was fighting for every breath, but at least he could talk. “Would it be better to stand up?”

“No…” Steve wheezed. “To uh… to dizzy right now.”

“Alright,” Bucky said. Steve squirmed for a second, sitting so that he was fixing Bucky with his intense stare. It always made Bucky a little uncomfortable when Steve did that. It felt like he could see right through him.

“Can I ask… you a...question?” Steve asked, playing with Bucky's hand. Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, but if this is the thing about me killing you again then-”

“No! It’s… not that.” Steve said. He looked actually uncomfortable, something rare for someone as dense as Steve.

“Then fire away,” Bucky said.

“Okay… why do you… stay?” Steve rasped out. Bucky tilted his head, trying to figure out what he said.

“What do you mean?” He asked finally, sensing Steve wouldn’t be elaboration without any prompting.

“Here? Why do you stay… here? This can’t… be fun,” Steve said, shaking his head. Bucky bit his lip, looking at his best friend.

“Because you’re a hell of a good person. You help people, even if it means you’re gonna get screwed over, like yah did the other day, and you don’t ever let the fact that other’s got the upperhand stop yah. You get into stupid fights you can’t get out of and you don’t eva stop for some reason, and you’re my best friend!” Bucky said, finishing by wrapping an arm around Steve. “Now who made yah question it? Was it Robort Jordens again? I swear-”

“No no, don’t… worry about… it,” Steve said, leaning against him. “I’z nice to hear yah say that.”

“Well I’ma keep saying it. ‘Til the end of the line, remember punk?” Bucky asked. Steve grinned.

“ ‘Til the end of the line.”

[voidendron]

Deep Blue Sea: Ch. 16

Chapter 16: Abandoned Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover

(( note: I haven’t played/watched gameplay for Below Zero yet, so please don’t spoil anything for me! Things from this fic might retcon stuff that happens in it, and I apologize if they do, but I don’t want to spoil any more of the game for myself than what already has been ‘til I can play the whole thing through myself ))

Warnings: Swearing Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Jameson Jackson, Dr. Schneeplestein, Chase Brody, Jackieboy Man POV: Marvin the Magnificent

Silence.

Pale Faces.

Keen’s words hung in the air between them.

“…We need to help him.” Jackie’s voice startled the rest of them from their shocked trance.

Marvin swallowed. Shook his head. Oh, hell no. “Are you insane?!” He ran his hands through his hair with a shaky breath. “There’s somethin’ here! We need to get off this island!”

“I am not putting my life on the line for someone else,” the doctor growled.

Jameson signed something—Marvin had no idea what it was, but his frantic nodding had him figuring that the chef agreed with them.

“He’s in danger!” the security guard insisted. “The recording was recent—he could still be alive!”

“Jackie’s right.”

Marvin’s head whipped toward Chase when he agreed. “No. No, no, no. He’d been so damn calm in his other messages, and how he’s panicking! You really want to run into whatever made Keen panic?!”

Chase frowned. “It’s a small island. How bad could it be?”

Their three-against-two changed when Jameson ducked his head, then offered an agreeing nod. He was signing again—Marvin would really need to learn those, wouldn’t he?—and the other two so…hellbent on saving Keen sagged with relief.

“Really no other way to change your minds?” the entertainer asked.

“We’ve gotta find Keen,” Jackie repeated, “and hopefully Yu, too. There were only two of ‘em, there’s five of us.”

“Yeah!” Chase was tucking his flippers and Seaglide near some…ferns? was that what they were?

“And if something does come after us?” Marvin challenged, gesturing harshly first at the doctor, then Jameson. “Doc’s ankle is fuckin’ shredded and James’s got broken ribs. They’d be picked off easy.”

“Anything attacks either of them—any of us—” Jackie hoisted up his broken flare in threat; he didn’t have to say any more than that.

Marvin and Henrik glanced at each other. For once, it seemed like they were both on the same page: They did not want to meet whatever had gone after Keen. Did the other three just not understand self-preservation? God…

He tossed his flippers near where the others were putting theirs. His air tank and Seaglide followed, but he was far more careful not to throw those down.

Seeing Henrik’s flippers actually laying with everyone else’s made him double-take. Marvin had always thought he had big feet. Definitely made sense why both of them had needed more materials than the original dive suit blueprint had called for.

Deep breath. The others were leaving the beach, leaving the two of them behind. Well, Marvin would much rather stick with the group than be left alone on the island.

“Come on,” he grumbled. He really wished they’d brought survival knives. He’d feel a little better if he could at least defend himself. “So!” he called ahead—both Chase and Jackie glanced back at him. “Any plan for what we’re gonna do if we find whatever went after them?”

“Depends on what it is, I guess.” Chase shrugged; he was walking backwards now.

Marvin just frowned and shook his head, watched the path ahead of them.

Wait.

…Path?

Henrik was eyeing it, too.

“Please tell me you’re thinking the same thing.”

“Something has traveled this same route for a long while, yes.”

They were following the path, and Marvin couldn’t help the unease settling into his gut. The feeling only amplified when they came across an old habitat and its overgrown garden.

Glances cast around, and Jackie was the first to approach the settlement.

It looked abandoned. Falling apart. Broken windows.

It had been there a long time.

“…I don’t think we’re the first to get stranded here,” Jackie said, voice soft.

Then, he was suddenly yelping; Marvin and the others jumped and scrambled away. From the way Marvin saw it, he was acting solely on instinct when he swung his flare and the little ankle-biter of a creature went flying.

When he blinked at it, Marvin actually found it in himself to snort. Was that thing some kind of…crab?

“Scared the hell outta me,” Jackie muttered, “but there’s no way that’s what had Keen panicked.”

“Unless he got swarmed?” Marvin suggested.

“Maybe..? I’m don’t know…”

Chase cleared his throat, pointing to the habitat. “They had to have made it off the planet, right?” Chase was inching forward, toward the multipurpose room’s shattered window. It looked like a mudslide had caused it. “I mean, it’s clearly been abandoned a long time.”

Marvin’s eyes were scanning the old habitat. He didn’t like this.

“Yo, check this thing out!”

When Chase tried bolting in through the broken window, Marvin grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. “That window’s broken. You really want to step on glass with bare feet?”

“But look!”

Marvin’s gaze followed his pointing finger. There was…something, in the room. Glowing. It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. “What is that thing..?”

“I mean. It looks like the mud’s covered all the glass?”

When Marvin’s grip slackened, he must have taken that as a go-ahead and ran into the room. He was careful while climbing through the window not to cut himself on any of the glass that still remained, and when he came back he had something in each hand.

“There was a data log, too. Also, this thing’s surprisingly light? Like…what is it?”

He gave the data log to Jackie to put in his PDA, then set the glowing whatever-it-was on the ground between all of them.

“Is like a tablet,” Henrik said.

“Yeah,” Chase agreed, “but it doesn’t look human.”

It seemed Marvin and Henrik had the same idea when they both reached for their scanners. Marvin’s scan finished first, and everyone’s PDAs chirped as the data was transmitted to all of them. When he read the information, he only shook his head.

“I really doubt it’s human. Estimated to being abandoned here hundreds-to-thousands of years ago? Yeah, definitely not ours.”

“Alien technology?” Henrik winced as he knelt down to pick it up, ran his fingers over the glowing purple symbol. “What were these people doing with it?”

“Well, from the sounds of it,” Jackie said—another chirp as the data log transferred from his device to the rest of theirs, “—they found it, and also had no idea what it was.”

“They? How many?”

“I count four people in the recording. Three men and a woman, but I’m relying on the PDA translating for me ‘cause they’re definitely not speaking English.”

Marvin opened the new file on his own device, listened for a moment, then shut it off to read over the translation instead. “Sounds like they were from a Mongolian settlement. I don’t speak it, but I’ve performed for one a few times.”

Four people had lived in this now-abandoned habitat: Two Torgals (probably related, he figured), Sepse, Maida. Where had they gone..?

When Chase and Jackie explored the rest of the habitat and came back with a few more data logs, it looked like where they’d gone was deeper. Much, much, deeper.

Apparently they were part of Torgal Corporation—no wonder the names were familiar. Paul was the head of the company and had gone missing about ten years ago. It hadn’t been the same since.

…Ten years ago. God. They’d never made it off the planet, had they? Would that be their fate, too? He could feel his stomach twisting.

Bart was Paul’s son and heir to the company, Marguerit Maid a hired mercenary, and Antony Sepse a microbiologist.

He could see it in the pale faces of his comrades they all feared the same fate, and it was Chase to break their silence.

“I…I kinda doubt we’re in the mood now, but I see two more habitats.” He outstretched an arm, pointing. “There, and there.” Perched oh so precariously at the tops of two mountain peaks were, sure enough, two more habitats clear even through the fog that seemed to have lifted some. “C’mon. We can still try findin’ Keen and Yu. Who knows. Maybe we’ll have better luck than that group did.”

Marvin closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. They’d find a way off the planet. They had to. But…did that really mean rescue never came for that group..? No, don’t think about it, he scolded himself. Instead, he offered a hand to help Henrik back to his feet, and the five of them started for one of the habitats.

What they found didn’t lift their spirits any. A PDA, not a data log, met them. Bart and Antony—the other two were dead?—regretting going down so far. Bart was ill in the recording. With the scientist’s help, they were trying to find a cure, but failing. One of them mentioned that Antony was wearing a special suit—some sort of hazmat diving suit—that had kept him from catching the same illness, and now left him needing to be extremely careful not to touch Bart with his bare hands.

Then it was over. Nothing more to the recording; just a dying man and one of his crew members trying to save him.

“I’m really startin’ to hate this planet,” Chase growled. “What do you think he had?”

Instead of an answer, Henrik pulled his scanner from his hip and ran a scan on himself. The answer had Marvin furrowing his brow.

“Performing self-scan. Vital signs normal. Detecting trace amounts of foreign bacteria. Continuing to monitor.”

He aimed it at Jameson. Same answer. Jackie: Same. Every one of them ended up with the same results. “Trace amounts of foreign bacteria” just kept looping in Marvin’s head. That couldn’t be good. Right? How the hell would they even have it? They didn’t even know that it was the same thing Bart had, but a part of Marvin very much was suspecting that it was.

“Could just be…I dunno, some sorta alien flu?” Chase shook his head and stood a little straighter. “We’ll keep an eye on it, okay? Don’t let it get to you, though. We’ll worry about it if we need to.”

If we need to, Marvin’s thoughts parroted. As if they hadn’t just listened to a man dying in a recording.

“…Do we really want to check that last habitat?” Marvin leaned out the door to peer across at it. “Things are just getting fuckin’ worse and worse on this island.”

Keen and Yu attacked by something. Survivors from ten years before who’d probably died long before rescue could even hope to find them. Some weird alien artifact that Henrik and Jameson were taking turns carrying. An alien sickness.

“Whatever is there can only be the cherry on top, yes?” Henrik grumbled. He was leaning against the wall, foot held off the ground.  Jameson was sitting on the floor near him, eyes squeezed shut and hand pressed to his chest.

“Besides,” Marvin added, “those two clearly need a rest, and I am not resting on this island. Far as we know, whatever went after Keen and Yu could be, oh I don’t know, watching us?!”

Chase grimaced and gave Jackie a look.

“We, ah…” He ran a hand through his bleached hair, fingers catching the tangled curls. “What if we have them head back to the habitat? And…you can join ‘em?”

Jackie started nodding. “We can’t just abandon those two if they’re still alive. I’m not doin’ it.”

“And splitting up is probably the worst thing we can do,” Marvin muttered.

“We either split up, or all go to the next habitat together. I’m not leavin’ this damn island until we at least know what happened to them.” Chase crossed his arms, closing himself off for further debate. He’d made up his mind and there was no way Marvin was going to change it.

“Fine.” Marvin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I want them alive just as much as you do, but I’m not risking my life for them.”

Chase shouldered past him. “Then let’s get back to the damn beach so you can leave. Fuckin’ hell.”

Did Marvin feel guilty for it? Sure. Did he feel awful leaving just the two of them on the island while he took their injured comrades back to their habitat? Sure.

Was he going to risk his life for someone who sounded like they probably dead anyway? Hell no. Marvin knew his priorities, and that definitely wasn’t one of them. He felt bad for Keen and Yu, holped that whatever killed them hadn’t let them suffer, or that they had, by some miracle, survived—but he wasn’t going to stick his neck out for them.

He’d had enough near-death experiences these last few days to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

Flippers back on, air tanks attached to their masks, Jameson helped into the Seamoth, and they were off.

His only thoughts were “good luck” when he glanced over his shoulder, saw Chase and Jackie at the edge of the island now, watching for them to make sure they made it a safe distance away. Then the two of them disappeared into the brush.

Good luck, he thought. You’re gonna need it.

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 12: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/51804982

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.

Previous Chapter 

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: High gone bad. Unwanted touching (just mentions but slightly uncomfortable)  Crowds & Depiction of a Panic Attack

In the past, the William-Jones family was a well-to-do, well adjusted and highly successful suburban family. Or at least economically and socially successful- if anyone asked Alfred he would quote their strength of prosperity came exceedingly cursed in terms of emotional wealth. In the most accurate and blunt possible turn of phrase: they were incompatible. Their french woman was an ‘aloof’ type more keen on decorating her doll and darling little boys, rather than acknowledging her arranged marriage to a work-obsessed brit. He could recall the loving pats he would get and Matthew and him sitting on a Saturday morning in a sunroom conservatory of their house in Surrey, England with their mother combing his ruthless cowlicks away; their father would be incessantly jabbering on the phone- something along the lines of investments and long term fail safes. They were 6 when they last saw that old house and it’s growing vines and English charm- his mother had decided to drag them to Canada, and despite the failed boutique business venture in Montreal, she had a trust fund large enough to keep them located there without work- obviously not enough to keep their father interested, Harry always was hard to please. He remembered the arguments that plagued the stairwell, the shouting they thought wasn’t audible through the twin’s bedroom walls. 

Harry was quick to file divorce the moment he got a venture in the USA. Turns out it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been arranged married to a woman once her family no longer pulls strings. Alfred went with dad. At least he was still dad back then- Alfred feels remorse when he does hear the word ‘Father’ tumble out Matthew’s mouth as if he was being scolded again. He remembers Matthew staying with mama, her pretty nails and thin arms wrapping around his brother as they said goodbye. 

Bad signal phone calls and some Summer camps were the only thing that kept the two siblings in contact, that and the occasional visit when dad couldn’t be arsed to deal with Al’s pestering. Prodigy of the academics, and exceeding in sports was the only way to get dad to put his phone down. He remembered Matthew on the phone complaining mama trying to bar him from hockey, or lamenting that mother didn’t see art as more than a hobby. So different huh? Matthew called a lot. Still close despite the distance. At least not till high school, if only Alfred had shut his mouth, if only he-

“Al? Ah? Has the..signal cut out or..?”Kiku’s voice wandered back into his head.

“I was asking if you’ve talked to your dad about-”

“No, I haven’t asked him about it. I haven’t even talked to Matthew about it. It’s getting late keeks- I should log-off, I’ve got an early lecture.."

----

Matthew's head felt subdued, despite the cackling cacophony of laughter that filled the room. His earlier attempts to get some water ended with him giggling with some random people- he could only really recognise the accent-tinged voice of Lukas, asking if he was alright. Of course, he was alright. He was here right? Everything was fine. Okay. good. Has this room always been this fuzzy? The kitchen counter seemed to stretch out forever in front of him and his mind wandered. God, he should not have smoked that much. He probably stank...everyone could probably smell him...oh fuck he’s a dumb idiot. Lukas must hate me.

“I don’t hate you Matthew- what are you going on about?” Shit could he read minds or was he talking, the Canadian’s inner voice seemed to be shouting but the pang only subsided with the tiniest sips of the overly clean tap water. 

“Jeez. I thought I told Mathias to not go overboard tonight...look Matthew I need you to tell me how you feel right now.”

Floaty. He felt floaty- but also like he’s sinking, melting into the tile floor and he can’t get up, the shallow attempts at sobering up felt like they were weighted with 10 years of baggage. There are so many voices in this house- has it always been this cramped? Had Lukas’tiles always been that baby blue? Oh god, he’s a horrible friend, he’s gonna be left here so fucking floaty, and he’s just gonna float away and everyone-

“Matthew- Matthew your phone man, Hej! Matthew! For god's sake” suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and someone reaching into his pockets- despite the sudden discomfort and manhandling, Matthew was too tired to do much but whine at whoever was fishing out his phone. he hated people touching him. Not now.

“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick- …. Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?. What? .. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” Lukas had moved the phone near to Matthew's ear, holding it with the other hand on his hip in annoyance but also a concern for his very paranoid and high friend.

“Mattie?” Oh, that silken voice that screamed of adventure and rock music, so nice- Gilbert was so nice. 

“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?”

“Mattie? Where are you?-”

“Above! I’m above!”

“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” Matthew chose not to answer but instead snort and push his glasses up before humming to his friend on the phone and pushing the little glass rectangle towards Lukas.

“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” This time Lukas answered stating that Tim was incapacitated on a couch somewhere.

“Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”

Suddenly Matthew’s heart rate jumped even higher, if he wasn’t already slightly over aware, now he was on overdrive. The phone had been on speaker and he heard mention of his brother. Alfred couldn’t know. If he knew it would be over. He can’t know. Never know. No. Nope definitely not.

“Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”

Matthew was mumbling. Mumbling and mumbling and god shit it was loud in here and people kept touching him and he just wanted people to stop touching him and fuck fuck fuck. He needed to be sober right now- this was not gonna end well. Breathing sucked. Everything sucked insanely right now. He saw Tim’s clunky shoes in front of him- since when was I crouching? He heard someone saw something and he could feel others watching and watching oh god people are watching, Tim? Hello Tim? 

“Matthew. Give me a colour” brown. “Why brown?” Brown because that was the colour of Tim’s shoes right then..he could trace the floor around the brown shoes...browner than the oak trees near his old house.

“How about another colour?” Blue. but like light blue. The kind you swaddle a baby in. blues that seem to almost be too simple and light.

“That's nice, where did you see blue?”

“In the- uh- …” he felt like choking a little bit but the words were coming out. “The kitchen has..blue tiles.” Everything was coming back down to earth and Matthew was starting to feel a bit better- even if his chest hurt a little. 

“How do you feel about red?” That was a dumb question. He answered. “I like red.” He loves red. Red is his hoodie. His hoodie which was being pushed into his arms right now as he stood up, and Tim’s face came into view, a slight worry masked with relief at his friend's recovery from the panic attack.

“I...I want to go home.” Matthew spoke as if a fog had cleared up, but he still felt slightly floaty as he was brought into a car with Tim by his side, and chaperoned home. He’ll think more about all of this later. He wanted to sleep.

-----

Gilbert didn’t like sleeping early on Saturday but then again not many people worked on Sundays. To be fair, Gilbert’s Sunday job was a temporary stand-in at the grocery shop for some lady who got pregnant. He just needed a bit more cash and was willing to spend a few weeks of bagging if it meant he could save up to see his uncle. He should probably sleep now so tomorrow he could get work done without feeling terrible, the diner dinner was already awkward enough.

He wondered what Matthew was doing. Matthew with his sweet smile, who seemed so different in front of his brother and especially with that guy Tim. Matthew who got headaches from too much sugar..who shared vanilla milkshakes. God Matthew was adorable. After scrolling through his social media (and perhaps doing some minor stalking of a certain boy’s Instagram) Gilbert was still not tired enough to call it a night. When did his Saturday nights become ‘wait til work’ days? He was getting a bit too bland he supposed. Ludwig was probably asleep. He should text Mattie- ask how he’s doing- perhaps that invite-only event ended already. Texting didn’t seem to do much. It wouldn’t be too rude to call right? Just to check on him.

“Hey, Birdie! I know you’re probably busy but-” 

“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick-” someone else’s voice reverberated down the line, causing great confusion.

“Is uh, Is Matthew Williams there?” Gilbert could hear laughter and hollering in the background but all seemed unimportant except the fact that someone distinctly NOT Matthew picked up the phone.

“Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?” The voice also sounded just as confused as himself, assuming that Gil knew where Matthew was.

“I don’t really know why I’m calling but now I’m worried, you are not him”

 “What?” 

“Just put him on the phone and let me talk to him.” Gilbert sighed as he heard the phone being passed, the fumbling noises making a ruckus on the phone.

“.. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” At least whoever this was trying.

With bated breath and a slight pause, the phone seemed to sound as if the jostling was over. “Mattie?” he called out hesitantly 

“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?” The voice sounded more happy than surprised but much too calm.

“Mattie? Where are you?-”

“Above! I’m above!” what the fuck is he talking about? He sounds completely out of it. Gilbert’s protective instincts kicked in, worried that something had happened to the Canadian. Hopefully, Matthew was as tolerant as his brother and wouldn’t be having a killer hangover tomorrow- he needed Matthew slightly sober tomorrow to at least talk about his project. 

“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” No response. Only a slight humming. Christ. The stranger must have been given the phone since they apologised for Matthew’s inability to cooperate- they asked if he could come to pick the boy up.

“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” shit. Tim was drunk too? What kind of stupid idiots both get drunk if they knew they had to go home. Jeez if that dutch dude got drunk he can only imagine what god awful party Matthew had stuck himself into. He would attempt to get Matthew, but his motorbike and drunk people do not exactly mix well.

Thinking hard he stared at his dorm room door- Alfred! He could call his friend’s brother. “Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”

Suddenly he heard a wail and some noises of shouting- Matthew in the background, only briefly-   “Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”

Gilbert could only hear a rustling and some more movement. With that, the phone seemed to hang up and he stared in complete panic at the phone.

A text.

M @ 12:47am : Hi. This is Matthew’s, Friend Lukas. Sorry for the hang-up, Matthew had a panic attack again. He is okay. They are being taken back to campus by Berwald, Tim will be dropped off back at his house too, nothing to worry about. You might want to help get Matthew to his room later though. Sorry for the trouble. Night.

Fucking hell. Gilbert slipped on some sweatpants, a jumper and some flip flops, already on his way out to meet up with this Berwald guy at the dorm entrance. 

[ohcaptaintarthister]

What's Mine and When Is It Yours?

I watched the first season of Game of Thrones along with everyone else. It wasn’t the kind of show you watched to chill back and turn off your brain. The intrigue, the violence, the insane plot twists and the general unpredictability kept me on the edge of my seat. Alas, with grad school giving me a final beatdown and plus a most unexpected job offer, I forgot about the show and spent more time at the desk than on any comfortable surface. It wasn’t until 2015 when there was finally time to catch up, from season two to four.

You know how it is. A binge lasts for only so long. In less than a week, I was done. Boobed out (hi, Season 2). Done with everything else an adult should be busy with–no deadlines because everything was turned in early, no more school for the moment. There was a sort-of beginning that surprisingly became a romance. I eagerly waited for the next season of Game of Thrones.

And found out it was gonna premiere later than usual.

I was a show watcher before reading the books. My introduction to Brienne of Tarth was by way of Gwendoline Christie trouncing Loras Tyrell. Her lines were few in that episode but the character had already made an impression. I looked up the character and ate more junk food than any human should eat in a year as Brienne sparred with Jaime Lannister, beating his ass and basically calling him scum right to his face. When his hand paid the price for defending her honor, my allegiance swung not only towards the Kingslayer but even more with Brienne. I would stop breathing every time they were together onscreen, wondering if this was when they would–you guessed it–kiss.

Having caught up and not having much to do (I was oddly productive in 2015), there was no choice but to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I cruised online for anything about JB. That’s when I discovered fan fiction.

Aside from my day job, I also write. Newspapers, magazines, books–the only place where I haven’t been published was online. It never entered my mind to write fan fiction. No self-respecting PUBLISHED author would waste her time reading and writing fan fiction. No one. At least that’s what I thought until I read my first JB fan fiction, Beast and The Beast by SigilBroken.

It was fucking awesome!

It was Modern AU. Jaime an athlete with a hand injury. Brienne, a competitive swimmer. I loved every word of it. I was floored with how the author captured the relationship that at that time, I’ve only seen on TV. I was so gobsmacked that I read her other JB works, like In This Light and Honor Thy Regard. I discovered other JB fanfic writers like RoseHeart, Ellaria, Just A Girl and Lady In Red. To this day, they remain my favorite writers and wish so fervently they will write again.

Because of them, I had a new appreciation and respect for fan fiction. Yes, fan fiction is derivative, it builds on a canon world but also deviates from it too. It is also original even when the characters are not yours. The works of the authors I mentioned above told me that fan fiction was a different ball game but also the same with all writing: it’s hard work. Very hard work. Fan fiction is strangely freeing, in my experience but it is very hard work!

I lurked around AO3 reading whatever JB fanfic struck me. When I couldn’t find any more interesting stories, I plucked up the courage to write my first JB fan fiction, Loving Harder and More. I was anxious, excited, terrified. It my first time to publish online and not under my real name. How will my story fare against the others I’ve read and loved? Later, I realized I shouldn’t compare myself to SigilBroken and company.

Hand on heart, they really are the best writers in the fandom. Their stories taught me how to dive into the characters but also be able to extrapolate sensibly. I still look to their stories for inspiration, unbothered that no matter how much I write, I never be as good. What mattered was I was writing and challenging myself.

In my fan fics, Brienne has been a professor, a black ops agent, hairstylist, masseuse, bodyguard to royalty. She has is always loved and appreciated, but also went through the nightmare of a sexual assault and an emotionally abusive marriage. Jaime has been a scientist, a devoted husband and loving dad, a creative director, actor. He is loved and has a full life with Brienne despite having gone through several levels of hell too.

What strings my work together is the smut. I’m proud of that. And I’m glad when people comment on its quality because it’s hard to write! It really is.

Which finally (fucking finally!) brings me to the point of this long-ass (one of SeleneU’s favorite words) piece.

Imitation is the best form of flattery–to an extent. I see no harm when someone compliments me on my shoes and goes out to buy the same pair. It’s hilarious and make plans to wear the same pair with the person. But see, in this kind of imitation, at least the other person makes the effort to go to the store and buy the shoes. He or she also has the right to get those fucking shoes.

It’s not imitation at all when scenes and even plots from stories I worked hard on are copied word-for-word. It might be buried under all the other paragraphs of another’s work but I find it. And it is always distressing because someone is getting praise over something that’s blatantly and even proudly copied from mine. That’s not right. There’s no effort at all no, you SHOULDN’T FUCKING DO IT.

It’s not the kudos and hits that concern me. It’s the copying. Word-for-word. It’s not even done subtly. How hard is it to come up with your own plot? Writing is difficult but it’s never a justification to copy someone else’s work. It’s like taking a dagger in the back when someone comments on my work and then…takes the thing she precisely commented on and presents it as her own! Holy hell. That takes a huge pair of really entitled balls!

How do you get out of bed? Don’t they snag or graze across the ground when you walk? Don’t they fucking hurt?

I write for myself and am thankful when people love my stories enough to leave encouragement and kudos. I’m happy whenever I finish another one and still get excited after posting it, waiting for when it gets its first comment. And people who love them, in a way the stories are theirs too, isn’t? Theirs to read and read, to download and read again. But it never becomes theirs that they have the right to copy and post it as their own.

It’s fan fiction so there’s no way to nail these cheating asses by any legal means. But as someone who would rather believe that decency still triumphs in the era of Trump, if you are of right mind, you don’t have to be told it’s not nice to copy other people’s work. Right?

If you like an author’s work so much, gestures of appreciation that do not involve copying will go a long, long way–possibly as far as Sothoryos. Say your work was inspired by a favorite author. Or at least give a shoutout. If you want to build on a story by a different author, please ask for her permission. But never, never, absolutely never copy another’s work.

I realize how easy it is to copy but it is not going to help the current situation of the fanfic in the JB fandom. Personal opinion, but there’s only one way of peeling a fucking banana and what’s been done is the fruit and the skin have been diced and spliced to death but there’s no denying it’s still the same fucking banana. That’s the kind of stories crowding AO3 quite often (I’m being conservative).

Nowadays, there’s hardly an author who tries to do something different and writes so well, except for isavedlatin (A Star Within the Mere), SeleneU (Pieces of You and A Story Without End), LuxEvergreen (A Walk with Frost and Fire), ShirleyAnn66 (Jaime Lannister Investigations). Off the top of my head, they’re the writers I follow and whose work are original and a pleasure to read. I’m reading some new fan fics but it’s still too early to tell how they’ll turn out. They are promising, that I can say.

I suppose prompts can help with creativity. It depends on the writer. But from what I’ve been seeing, a strong dependence on them will be a hindrance to the good writer you can become. Yes, they’re fun but you’re writing a story that’s not really what you want to tell. I don’t know. Its not helping the writers I used to follow and are now stuck in prompt rut. Still, despite prompts, there’s copying…of my work. Nearly word-for-word.

Which really sucks.

When someone says, “Hey, this person writes like you!” I see come similarities but the story is still different from mine. That’s nice. But when I’m told, “I swear this was your story until I saw the name and it wasn’t,” I check and holy shit, it really reads like I wrote it because it’s practically a scene from one of my stories. Word-for-fucking-word!

Sad, isn’t it? Never thought I’d rather be slammed for writing a threesome story of Jaime, Brienne and Tormund. Being copied is a lot worse.

I’ve calmed down a bit since making the discovery but my resolve to limit access to my fan fics remains just as strong. It’s hard, you know. Aside from it being a slow process, this step means my work won’t appear in public unless one logs in on AO3. On the heels of this, I realized that people who like my work aren’t part of any group. That tells me I don��t need to be a part of anything to be read–and it’s stupendous knowing that people legitimately like what I write instead of being liked just because I’m part of a group.

With the audience most definitely fewer, I’m encouraged more than ever to write. It means less snark and hateful comments when I experiment. It may also lessen the possibility of being copied. My fan fics are my babies and I make the time to write them as well as I can. If restricting access makes me a better writer, I’m still taking it! I will never pass up any chance to improve just as long as I never run out of my OWN ideas and keep writing. Because I the end, that’s all that matters, right?

Also, if you claim to love the story of Jaime and Brienne, don’t you think they deserve original stories? I don’t believe they’ll end up together in the books but in fan fiction they have, over and over. And as fans, it’s our responsibility to explore the different ways we can bring them there–through our own imagination and creativity.

[andyfrills]

Andy’s FanFic Log 21/03/2017

I’ve been a bit out of it this week, so it was a bit of a mission to get up to a consistent number for this log. And I’ve also been replaying some Ace Attorney games (5 & 6 - 6 being my fave), so that’s taken some time off of reading. But I somehow managed it!

Fic count: 23 Fandoms this Log: Voltron, Nancy Drew, Ace Attorney, Yuri!!! on Ice

※ I end up reading a lot of random shit. Until I’m a bit more comfortable I might censor a few things out, but there will be explicit fics, darker themes, crazy plots, and insane ships amongst all the sugar and fluff I find around the place. So the really important thing is to carefully read the warnings that I occasionally give & that are on the fic itself, and back away if it’s not for you.

Other posts in this little series can be found under the read fanfiction tag on my page~

Voltron

Black's Choice by Chloe_Hallow_Eve Words: 2.7k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance (Keith/Lance) Shiro's gone, and the team needs a new Black Paladin, and quick. But Black is a lot pickier about who she wants her paladin to be than first thought. Alternatively titled: No one wants to be the new black paladin but someone is forced to be anyways. ~ Thumbs up for black paladin lance!

Blue's Acceptance by Chloe_Hallow_Eve Words: 1.9k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): None After Lance becomes the black paladin, Allura becomes the blue paladin. Blue is quick to accept the princess. Alternatively titled: Blue would be anyone's Lion but she would pick Lance over anyone. ~ Really enjoyed this one! It's nice to read more about Allura.

The Blue In The Black by Chloe_Hallow_Eve Words: 2k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): None Black looks back at how Lance and her started out, and is ever so proud of where they are now. Alternatively titled: Black Reminiscences At What Just Might Be The Worst Time ~ More black paladin lance! <33

Make Me Your Home by Reader115 Words: 38k, Rating: Mature, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance “Space cadet,” Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance’s hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance’s fingers, sending shivers up Lance’s arm and down his spine. “You have looong fingers,” Keith murmured after a few moments. “I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance.” ~ So good! Really enjoyed this one, left me feeling super contented.

Teamwork Not Included by Chloe_Hallow_Eve Words: 3.4k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance (Eventual) Lance struggles with his new position. He's not entirely sure this is where he should be, but he's trying his best anyways. Alternately Titled: What Would Shiro Do ~ Nice installment in the series!

The Tide by Zurela Words: 4.1k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance Lance doesn't know whether or not he can trust Keith to have his back. But now that he's stuck under a tree, with broken bones, and on the verge of drowning, it seems he might not have a choice. ~ Good fic! I think I vaguely remember the show this is based off…

And We Go Where The Stars Take Us by thebestworstthing Words: 5.3k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Klance (Eventual) On the ninth day, Lance shuts his eyes in his own personal hell, and when he opens them he’s in his home back on earth surrounded by his family and the warmth and light is so bright his eyes burn with it. ~ Omg Lance, I'm so worried about him in regards to this fic… I have a feeling things are going to get way worse for him before they get better. But I also have a feeling this will be a good fic! The author said they'll update every few days, so we'll know soon enough!

It's Hard to be Diplomatic by Chloe_Hallow_Eve Words: 2.6k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance (Eventual), Shallura (Shiro/Allura) Team Voltron, now that they have Shiro back, go to Lotor to plan the final fight. Full title: It's hard to be diplomatic when you and the person you're supposed to be planning with keep flirting  ~ Nice fic! I'm looking forward to seeing how the rest of the series plays out.

Nancy Drew

starships were meant to fly. by rushie Words: 1.1k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): None The first time the boys met Sonny Joon, he had green hair. ~ I really enjoy reading this one! Although I might be just a bit biased since I love Sonny Joon and there isn't a huge amount of content for him…

Ace Attorney

A Bizarre, Beautiful Thing by Geodude96 Words: 1.5k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Athena/Apollo (I have no clue of any ship names, so I’m just gonna stick with this version) Athena chooses a beautiful way to remind Apollo about the important things in life. ~ A rare hetro pairing has appeared! Ww in all seriousness, this is a sweet fic.

Before & After by shinigami_yumi Words: 1.6k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Apollo/Nahyuta Three months after SoJ, Nahyuta and Apollo finally catch up and figure out where they stand now that the little girl Apollo grew up with is prince and regent. ~ Bit of a different pairing, not that I don't love Apollo and Nahyuta themselves, I just don't usually ship them. But it's a good fic!

Last Goodbye by DaisyDogOx Words: 1.4k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): None Apollo has one last chance to say goodbye to his father. He just never could've imagined it would hurt this much. ~ This is kinda short but it still made me cry a bit since it reminded me what happens in AA6… Major spoiler alert btw…

Discovery by thawrecka Words: 12k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): NaruMitsu (Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright ~ i.e. the only ship in this fandom that I know the actual name of www) At 35, and very confused, Phoenix reconsiders his sexuality and his feelings for Edgeworth. ~ Disregarding the very accurate portrayal of biphobia, this is very cute. Good pining and angst vs fluff ratio.

The Diplomatic Turnabout by Lumelle Words: 8.4k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klavier/Apollo, Ema/Nahyuta The worst thing about being sorta-related to royalty, Apollo finds, is that sometimes he is the most diplomatic person around. Which really should never be the case, honestly, he is loud and abrasive while Rayfa has been raised to be a princess and Nahyuta is a holy monk, yet Rayfa is also spoiled and impatient while Nahyuta is developing a quite worrying penchant for practical jokes. Really, Apollo has his hands full trying to keep the country from slipping into war because his brother finds it quite amusing to aggravate various foreign politicians. And just what does Klavier Gavin have to do with all this? ~ It's nice to see them going about their business and being all domestic in Khura’in~ Would have been nice to see some of Rayfa instead of just hearing about her in passing. But a good fic!

Colors by shinigami_yumi Words: 6.3k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Apollo/Nahyuta In a reality where Nahyuta is born blind, Apollo becomes much more than his eyes. ~ An interesting fic! I enjoyed reading it~ :)

Backup Vocals by SummerMermaid Words: 77k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Klavier/Apollo Klavier Gavin is a prodigy prosecutor holding auditions for his band. Apollo Justice is the son of an accomplished guitarist who he can't get out of his head after he tries out. ~ Good fic! Quite a bit of drama, but it's well written and things seem to be panning out alright.

Yuri!!! on Ice

turntables by Vitali (exocara) Words: 4.3k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri (Victor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri) Prompt: “you’re a celebrity who just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie with the caption “date me” as a joke but you thought i was serious?” au ~ Felt a little rushed, but a good fic nevertheless.

Masks off by emulikule Words: 27k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri And so the story goes that a playboy comes to a town, makes it fall in love with him and then proceeds to get himself enticed by the most mysterious person there. Wait... did it really go like that? ~ Awesome fic! Good plot, good length, good ending, and really nice execution! What else could you ask for?

Showing Results for 'Katsuki Yuuri' by Ferrero13 Words: 3.9k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri Victor makes it his goal to get Katsuki Yuuri, figure skater, to the first page of Google results. There is no way he could let such a brilliant skater be overshadowed by Katsuki Yuuri, winner of some stuffy academic medal, who is probably 50 and balding. Or: Yuuri has made a name for himself outside of figure skating, and athletes are slow on the uptake. ~ Omg Victor… This is hilarious, it's brilliant~

Twenty-Five Hours by 0lizzybennet0 Words: 14k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him. ~ This is great! It's really sweet, slightly angsty atm, but it's going to get sweet again soon! I just know it!

Rock, Paper, Scissors by nerdlife4eva Words: 3.3k, Rating: Mature, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri Victor and Yuuri discover the only chore they both dislike is vacuuming and decide to rock, paper, scissors (RPS) each time the chore needs to be completed. Yuuri is an ace at RPS and Chris sends them personalized charts to track their successes. All adorable Victuuri hell breaks loose! (These two have no chill, in basically anything!) ~ Omg this fic~! Great for a laugh!

cover story by fan_nerd Words: 8.2k, Rating: Explicit, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri Yuuri stares down at the person standing in the doorway. The stranger hisses, "Who do you think you are, anyways?" Quickly, before he can really think about it, Yuuri responds, "I'm Victor's boyfriend." It's a lie, but the words feel good in his mouth, and for some reason, he doesn't want to take them back. ~ I loved this fic! It's really good! <3

The Return of the Little Piggy by SASS_QUEEN Words: 4.4k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri Everybody had their regrets in college. For the students, it was making fun of Katsuki Yuuri. For Yuuri, it was letting himself become too stupid. For Viktor, it was not doing anything. ~ This is a bit of a different fic, quite metaphorical in places, I'm not really sure what I think about it yet. Hopefully it'll be interesting. :)

[andyfrills]

Andy’s FanFic Log 28/02/2017

Hello again! This log is a bit shorter than the last since I was away for my cousin’s wedding on the weekend. But I felt the log was at a good point to post, so here we are anyway! Btw I don’t think I mentioned this last time, but feel free to shriek at me about how wonderful fics are/yell at me to read a certain thing. Both are good icebreakers in my opinion and are most welcome in my ask box~!

Fic Count: 20 Fandoms this Log: Yuri!!! on Ice, Voltron

Now onto the customary warnings before we get into it~

I end up reading a lot of random shit. Until I’m a bit more comfortable I might censor a few things out, but there will be explicit fics, darker themes, crazy plots, and insane ships amongst all the sugar and fluff I find around the place. So the really important thing is to carefully read the warnings that I occasionally give & that are on the fic itself, and back away if it’s not for you.

Other posts in this little series can be found under the read fanfiction tag on my page~

Alright! Here we go~!

Yuri!!! on Ice

play that song again, ‘cause we were in love by Piyo13 Words: 1.1k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti (Phichit/Christophe), Victuuri (Viktor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki), Unrequited Vichris & Phichuuri “Of course you are,” Chris replies smoothly. “We’re their best friends and their best men, and look at them. It’d be a crime not to be happy for them.” Phichit raises his eyebrows at the change in person. “So,” he says. “Like recognizes like?”

Very Versatile by Marks Words: 1.8k, Rating: Mature, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti The one where Phichit is really observant when it comes to everything and also Christophe, and Ciao Ciao probably steals a whole tray of mini-pizzas. ~ Not entirely sure of my thoughts on this one. But I kind of liked it, so someone else might enjoy it too.

Now, Take My Hands (Come On) by mintables Words: 3.8k, Rating: No Rating (Mature imo for some sexy times), Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti (Along with mentions of other pairs) It begins, as most things in their lives do, at the banquet. Or, Phichit isn’t sure when he began falling for Chris, but maybe he was there the whole time. ~ This is amazing and beautiful! I almost couldn’t stop myself from crying at the fluff. <333</i>

Oh My God, Finally by Halrloprillalar (prillalar) Words: 1.7k, Rating: Explicit, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti, Victuuri At the GPF post-banquet after-party, Chris and Phichit do a little roleplay. ~ The rp was much implemented much better than I was anticipating, but I’m not sure how I feel about the ending. In any case it was still well done so someone else might enjoy it.

Unexpected and Eager by novocaine_sea Words: 3.6k, Rating: Explicit, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti (Anyone guess by now what tag I’ve been going through?) Now that Victor was off with Yuuri, Christophe really had nobody to have fun with after hours. “Christophe!” A cheerful voice called from behind him, almost as if on cue. Christophe turned, champagne flute still twisting in hand. Phichit Chulanont was heading his way with a bright smile on his face. Maybe this banquet wouldn’t be so boring after all. ~ A very sweet lemon~ <3</i>

Liquid Courage by vivaldis_lover Words: 1.5k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti It’s Phichit’s turn to get drunk at the banquet, but unfortunately for Chris, no pole dancing is involved this year. He will get his reward for taking care of the young skater, though. ~ Just a little bit of drunken fluff <3</i>

Anything Could Happen by Creepikat Words: 7.1k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): ChulaCometti, Victuuri, Leo de la Iglasia/Ji Guang-Hong (I have no clue what their ship name is, but they are so cute~~) After two years Viktor and Yuuri finally get married. They rent a Hotel near Detroit, in a beautiful and snowy place. Everyone’s here. The future husbands are idiots. Phichit is a best man. Christophe too. And somehow he’s even more dashing than usual. This is gonna be a merry mess. ~ I love relationship establishing fics like this~ I really love when things like this are continued (alas this is not) but this initial type of fluff gives me life. <33</i>

A Sequence for You by wisia Words: 4.7k, Rating: Teen, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri Yuuri Katsuki retired from ice skating without any medals or breaking any records. It’s fine. He couldn’t have made it anyway. So, why was Victor Nikiforov asking him to be his coach? ~ This seems like a good roll reversal so far. I think it’ll be interesting to see where it goes.

fire on ice by indianchai Words: 11k, Rating: Teen, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri All figure skaters were water users. Never in the history of the sport was there professional ice skater that didn’t have water as their elemental affinity. Katsuki Yuri had a well-guarded secret that he can’t have anyone find out about. ~ This is amazing! I love fantasy and mystic type things, so this is right up my alley. Can’t wait to read more!

Remedy by Ishxallxgood Words: 1.8k, Rating: Not Rated (G? Maybe just above for the feels), Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri Those 48 hours these two spent apart were the worst. Viktor finds comfort from that gaping hole in his soul via one Hiroko Katsuki, who loves him as much as she loves her own son. And Yuuri, well Viktor is his remedy, always and forever. ~ A really beautiful hurt/comfort fic <3 Have I mentioned this is a songfic btw?</i>

Turn Backwards on Go by inkwellofstars Words: 5.3k, Rating: Not Rated (G), Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri In which Yuuri and Victor, happily married and retired, find themselves thrown into the past and proceed to mess with everyone. ~ This is a bit of fun, unlike most of the time travel aus which are filled with angst. Can’t wait to see how the two of them are going to continue to mess with everyone!

Only You by quesadiaz Words: 27k, Rating: Teen, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri In the year 2021, Victor Nikiforov, retired professional figure skater and Number One Husband, steps into a taxi to make his way home from the grocery store, arm full of vegetables and fruits to bring home to his beautiful husband and loyal old dog. A sharp sound and a blur of color is the only warning before Victor wakes up in the year 2016, sitting in a first class seat on an ascending airplane headed for Fukuoka, Japan. ~ I’m mostly enjoying this. A large part of me is just like “I hope everything will be okay T^T” This is also from Yuuri’s pov, a companion fic is going to be released when this one is done.

Gods of Circumstance by Ritequette Words: 15k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri During his Free Program at the 2016 Barcelona Grand Prix Finals, Yuuri suffers a freak equipment malfunction and falls, hitting his head on the ice.When he wakes up, surprisingly not dead, he finds himself in the last place he expected… the 2015 Sochi Grand Prix Finals. Again.~ Aaaahhhhh, this is an amazing time travel fic! So much feeling! I really want to see how it unfolds.

Dancing Daffodils by greyclouds Words: 40k, Rating: Mature, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri  "As Love gently wipes away the tears that trail down his cheeks something within Victor quakes, its tremors resonating throughout his entire being like a deafening echo.  He is in the arms of a god.“ A god falls for a man. ~ I’m really enjoying this one!

I have no heart, for you long ago stole it by exile_wrath Words: 4k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Victuuri In which Eros, one of the six gods of love, falls for a mortal who thinks he’s unlovable. Or in which Yuuri goes to the Temple of Eros to plea for help and ends up being courted by the god himself instead. ~ An interesting fic to say the least. I kinda wish it went on for longer, just so we could see some more development.

On My Love by RikoJasmine Words: 48k, Rating: Teen, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Victuuri Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol. As if it had all been just a dream. ~ Holy shit this fic. I’ve cried a couple of times with it already and I’m really looking forward to reading more! <3</i>

Voltron

An Everglow Feeling by BleuSarcelle Words: 3.4k, Rating: Teen, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Klance (Keith/Lance) The one where Lance acquires magic healing powers for being the first human to be inside a cry-pod and it turns out to be a dangerous thing, especially when said abilities are connected with his energy life force and Keith’s bleeding on his arms. ~ This is good! I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes~!

The Hundred Dollar Bill by AQuinton Words: 7.1k, Rating: G, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance, Shallura (Shiro/Allura) Shiro convinced Keith to participate in a date auction for charity and now he has to go on a date with Lance. Lots of fluff and ridiculous text conversations ensue. ~ Very, very cute and fluffy~! I was grinning and loving it the whole way through. <33</i>

Roar by CrzyFun Words: 8.7k, Rating: G, Status: Wip Relationship(s): Blue Lion/Red Lion (Well, that was strange to type - no others so far) Lance met them while surfing just off the coast of Cuba. Hunk met him while helping out at his mothers’ restaurant. Pidge met her while solving puzzles with her brother. Shiro met him after leading his soccer team to victory. Keith… Well, Keith had always known her. Which is why he was completely unsurprised to find out the cats were more than they seemed. ~ Interesting concept and a nice fic so far.

Objects in Motion (When Unbalanced) by Mytay Words: 37k, Rating: Teen, Status: Complete Relationship(s): Klance Lance and Keith are constantly being mistaken for a couple. Lance is highly offended. Keith is quietly outraged. Pidge decides if she can’t have peace, then she can write an epic scientific dissertation on the romantic failings of two exceptionally dense paladins. ~ Very nicely written, well paced, and cute. It left me with a rather contented feeling, and it’s definitely one I’d recommend over and over. <3</i>