#stella reads

[stellar-solar-flare]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; friends to lovers, idiots in love, competency; fluff

🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕🍻💕

You lucked out having a friend as good as Steve. After all, he’d been by your side for as long as you could remember, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that he jumped to fix your car when you complained to him about how expensive everything was going to be, especially since you’d finally just gotten your own place that was shaping up to take a nice chunk of change from your paychecks.

What you couldn’t remember, though, after years of friendship, was the moment where spending time with Steve started giving you butterflies in your stomach. When movie nights with your best friend shifted to you hoping he would reach out for your hand, or make some type of move. Surely, if he was bold enough to get into fights before his body had grown into the hulking stature with its head under of the hood of your car currently, he’d be bold enough to act accordingly if he shared your feelings. So you assumed he didn’t and tried to shove yours down, quite unsuccessfully.

It was made so much worse by your view right now, as you swung your feet while sitting on the end of his work bench after hours in the mechanic shop. The muscles of Steve’s back rippled as he tightened… something, explaining what he was doing using a bunch of jargon that you couldn’t care less about, but you loved watching how good he was at fixing things. Plus, you were just happy to spend time with him, and you’d take it in whatever form you could get.

And then he turned around, and the view was even more enrapturing. Blond strands, a little sweaty in the best way, flopped over his forehead, and old white tee stretched taut across his firm chest, exposed by his folded-down cover-alls. You were millimeters away from drooling, watching his pink lips moving, and yet you couldn’t hear a thing until…

“Muffin? Muffin. You good?”

You shook your head to regain consciousness, swallowing the lump you didn’t realize had formed in your throat. Steve was approaching you. Gosh, even the way he walked was so sexy. Your heart picked up and his hand reached out towards yours, just for it to grab a beer on the table next to you: your payment to him for fixing your car tonight—a six pack to share between the two of you. Even as he sipped, he kept his eyes on you, expectant for an answer. The one your body gave was an instinctual squeeze of your thighs together.

Your voice was strained as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and responded to him.

“Y-yeah. I’m good.”

He raised a brow as he set his bottle back down. “You sure?”

All you could do was nod, and be glad Steve didn’t push it farther. He held out a hand and flashed that beautiful smile at you, and you placed your palm in his to get down from the bench.

“Good, like I was saying, I have something I want to show you.”

He led you over to the car, putting a wrench in your hand and gesturing to something you couldn’t make out. This was foreign territory to you.

“Now, any time you get in trouble, of course you can call me, but if you’re in a real jam, you’ve gotta tighten this.”

You still had no idea what ‘this’ was referring to, and in your stillness, you felt Steve come up behind you to grab your wrist, guiding you where to put the wrench and helping you tighten it, causing you to almost go stiff. But again, all you could focus on was the way his body was pressed up against yours. So hard, yet so, so soft in the best way, making your breath hitch. If this was how nights were gonna go, you couldn’t hold it in much longer.

“Steve, I can’t do this.”

He stopped his movements, his grip that was guiding your hand loosening, “Do what? Fix your car? I was just trying to give you some small tips.”

You turned around, suddenly even more affected by the way he caged you in against the vehicle and shook your head. “No. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t drive me crazy when you’re pressed up against me like this. When you take care of me like this. The fact that I want it all to mean more than being friends but you don’t fe-“

Suddenly you were cut off by his lips against yours, Steve wanted to pull your hips against his so badly, but he didn’t want to get the grease from his hands on your clothes. So instead, they clung to your car, his mouth dancing with yours while his mind swirled, making him dizzy as he wondered how he had never noticed that you were pining after him as much as he was for you. Because the fact was, he offered car repairs, something he’d hardly done off the clock for even Bucky, just for a little more time by your side, happy if that was all he could get since he thought you’d only think of him as a friend. And boy was he wrong.

@bigtreefest Essie you are the absolute bestestest ever!! Thank you so much for this.

First of all, I am so sorry that me responding to this beautiful thing took me over a week! Holiday insanity + other stuff going on, and I wanted to give this the attention and the brain space it deserves, as it is made for me and I am so grateful.

Also the THINGS this did to me, my goodness gracious me. (fans self). I am an absolute sucker for a man that can do traditionally manly stuff like fix things. It just gets my cavewoman brain going like 'Mmmm, he takes care of me...' so this was an absolute treat.

What you couldn’t remember, though, after years of friendship, was the moment where spending time with Steve started giving you butterflies in your stomach.

This seems so natural to me, as they have been friends for a long time. And LOL, I mean, Steve IS a bold man but he's also a dumbass in some ways, and I feel like a part of him never forgot how his attempts at dating were shot down when he was still pre-serum (or pre-growth spurt here) Steve.

The muscles of Steve’s back rippled as he tightened… something, explaining what he was doing using a bunch of jargon that you couldn’t care less about, but you loved watching how good he was at fixing things.

This is a straight-up murder of a thirst trap, and I'm not even mad about it. Honest to god, the back and shoulders are the most attractive part of a man. And the rest of his descrpition! I'm not blaming her for drooling.

He held out a hand and flashed that beautiful smile at you, and you placed your palm in his to get down from the bench.

We love a gentleman, oh yes we do. This is like a modern version of him helping her out of a carriage, and I am swooning.

The dam break! It is absolutely beautiful, and I love all sorts of 'yes we are doing an activity but my god are we not focusing on anything but how we're TOUCHING' scenes, and this was a beautiful edition. The tension was really there, and I could feel everything she was feeling too. You wrote their interactions very well; it was so easy to see and hear and feel.

So instead, they clung to your car, his mouth dancing with yours while his mind swirled, making him dizzy as he wondered how he had never noticed that you were pining after him as much as he was for you.

What a lovely, lovely piece of idiots in love. And LOL, I can just imagine Bucky being all grumpy about "Well, if you're just friends with her, then you can fix my car for free too?"

My goodness, this gave me the most wonderful fuzzy feelings and filled my stomach with butterflies. Thank you SO MUCH for writing this for me, you are amazing.

[grangcrmalfcy]

I can’t believe I have to go through this shit AGAIN

[stellar-solar-flare]

Share The Love!

This is my entry for @marvel-oc-hub Share The Love Valentine's Event! The idea was to create two moodboards, graphics, etc, one for your own fic and one for a favorite writer of yours.

As there are so many amazing writers in this community, it was impossible to choose the best - but I have truly enjoyed @themaradwrites's story Learn to Fly (AO3) because Sam and Andie are just adorable together. So this is my moodboard for them, I hope you like it, Mara!

And for the second part of the challenge, I created a board for my Steve Rogers x Asgardian!OC fic The Fringes Of Fate (AO3, Explicit). Fringes was the first time I dived deeper into the mythology and fantasy elements that have very much become a staple in my writing. It mixes Marvel Norse Lore with Norse Mythology, and the central theme is the power of love triumphing over everything.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Stella's Weekly Reading Wrap-Up: 3/2025

I always love seeing people's reading lists here so I wanted to start keeping my own.

For fics that don't have an official name, I've gone with the first sentence of the fic, similar to how poetry is sometimes identified. If you are the author and would like me to edit it into something else, please let me know. Also, if you would not like to be featured on the list, let me know and I'll remove you.

The descriptions/comments underneath each fic are written by me, not the author. Beautiful star dividers by lovely @steviebbboi, thank you!

Home For The Holidays: Chapter 2 by @wild-typo-turtle

Steve Rogers x Reader. Continuation of a beautiful mystery centered around an invisible door. Beautiful, beautiful take on Steve and a very interesting Reader, not to mention the PROSE.

True North by @navybrat817

Steve Rogers x Reader. A touching hurt/comfort with an established relationship and wonderfully human Steve.

Even before he's fully awake, Andy knows he's in trouble. by @thezombieprostitute

Andy Barber x Reader + other pairings. The literal definition of fuck around, find out. Somewhat dark content.

Still Life: Chapter 1 by @krirebr

Curtis Everett x Reader. This is quickly shaping into probably the most in-depth Omegaverse fics I've seen, drawing some parallels between real-life abusive cults and how those would look like in Omegaverse. While it has very sad, upsetting themes, the general vibe is that of healing and hope. Dark content.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Question about commenting

One of my goals for 2025 is to read more fic and write more comments.

Generally I tend to do pretty detailed play-by-play comments with quotes and commentary - examples here on my #stella reads tag. I love doing that and it's my love language, especially if I know that the author is comfortable with it (sometimes it can be a little scary to leave a comment like that to someone I don't know, in case it comes off as obnoxious).

As comments like these can be time and energy consuming and sometimes I can't finish a longer chapter (5k+) at once - or tackling something longer can feel overwhelming - I have been musing on some ways to make it more accessible for myself. One of the things I've been wondering is

Are you comfortable with receiving a comment on your oneshot or a long chapter of your fic in a few parts, that means you'll get more detailed feedback? Or does it annoy you as an author if your fic / chapter is not enjoyed in one part, as you intended it to be? In practice, this'd mean that I read and comment until I'm at a good stopping point, post whatever I have at that point, and then return to do a new reblog on another day for the next part. For example, commenting the first 3k of a 10k fic on Tuesday, the second 3k on Friday, and finally the last part on Sunday, so three different reblogs in total.

Since the poll has such low character limit, here are the options:

Option A: I have no issues with this manner of commenting and would welcome a comment in parts over a few days or so (not necessarily consecutive).

Option B: Personally I would prefer comments addressing the entire fic but if this works for you, I'm fine with it.

Option C: I think it's best that you put the entire comment together in drafts / a Word file / similar, and only post when it covers the entire chapter or oneshot.

Option D: These options don't fit my thoughts, I will elaborate in a reply/reblog.

Any thoughts on the subject, as well as reblogs, are absolutely welcome!

[stellar-solar-flare]

Oohh, thank you for submitting a fic for my challenge! Comment under cut.

In all the time you have known Bucky, you’ve been aware of his short social battery, and though some people in your life put it down as him being ‘grumpy’, you know the real root cause is much deeper than him simply liking to keep to himself.

I really like this take on Bucky, and the reinforcing of the idea that sometimes what people perceive to be rude behavior is just someone running out of spoons.

It’s genuinely sweet how naive he can be sometimes, but you are also aware that it comes from a place of trauma where his brain can’t make the connection that anyone would do something selflessly for him simply because they love him.

Oh, way to tear my heart right out of my chest. It makes a lot of sense, and I love how Reader made it about her not feeling well and needing to go home, saving Bucky's face.

His lips curl inward slightly, involuntarily, in a way you have come to know occurs when he doesn’t want to admit he’s in the wrong.

And it's so realistic that when someone does a nice thing for us, even if it's a loved one, we're like NO THAT'S DIFFERENT YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO ME even though we would do it for others in a heartbeat. Brains, especially ones with trauma, can be so silly at times.

We love healthy supportive relationships in this house, and the way you handled trauma here felt very mature and realistic.

With that, Bucky pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, like you’re his sturdy anchor grounding him as he tries to navigate the choppy, rough sea which has been his life.

Awww. A beautiful image, and I love all iterations of someone's love being a safe place/home for them.

Thank you for sharing your talent and participating in Stella's Starry Winter Sky! This was beautiful.

Take Me Home

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky starts fiddling with his dog tags while out with your friends.

Prompt: comforting one another

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past trauma but not detailed

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: this is my submission for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event 💜 just a short fic as I get back into writing. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You’re sure Bucky doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it, but it signals as clearly as if he had shot up a flare that he needs you.

The fingers of his flesh hand fiddle with the metal of his dog tags absentmindedly, nervously, and you can see by the distant gaze of his eyes that he has completely checked out of the conversation.

In all the time you have known Bucky, you’ve been aware of his short social battery, and though some people in your life put it down as him being ‘grumpy’, you know the real root cause is much deeper than him simply liking to keep to himself.

Making your way across the room, eyes watching him retreat even further into himself and turning over the dog tag with his fingers with every additional input of the conversation he had been involved with, your heart descends deeper into the cavernous pit his clear suffering is carving into your stomach.

You know Bucky well enough that he’ll suffer through this internal anguish because he thinks you want to stay at this gathering with your friends, rather than coming to find you right away so you can both retreat into the comfort of your shared apartment.

But you’re not about to let him endure this torment for a second longer.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt.” You cut across the active conversation, putting your arm around Bucky’s waist, snuggling up to his side, really not that remorseful about disturbing their discussion when you know the outcome will relieve your love of his pain. “My tummy isn’t feeling that great, Buck, do you mind taking me home?”

There is relief mixed with genuine concern for you in his baby blues when these words come out of your mouth that somehow make you love him even more - he’s currently bearing the brunt of his own pain for you, but the moment you mention a made up illness he’s more worried about your health than his own.

Bucky’s arms snake around you, finally releasing his fidgeting hold on his dog tags, as he places a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Of course my love.” Bucky says, only letting you go for a brief moment as you both say proper goodbyes to your friends, before he intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you out the door to start the short walk to your apartment.

It’s chilly outside the restaurant, a soft breeze making you shiver, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his jacket and place it around your bare shoulders.

Ever the gentleman your thoughtful, doting boyfriend is.

“Do you think it was something you ate?” It’s genuinely sweet how naive he can be sometimes, but you are also aware that it comes from a place of trauma where his brain can’t make the connection that anyone would do something selflessly for him simply because they love him.

“Bucky, I’m feeling fine.”

“But your tummy.”

“I could see you had used all of your social battery, and I know you don’t like to be the reason we leave places early, so I made it up.” He stops dead in the street. There’s a moment, a couple short breaths, when Bucky simply looks at you with wide, affectionate eyes, as if it’s taking him a moment to process what you have done for him.

“You made it up?” It’s not an accusatory tone, instead one that almost sounds astonished. You nod with a small smile. “So I didn’t have to be the reason we left?”

“Mhmm. I only want to be out places when we both want to be there. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable and have to endure that for me.” You caress his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jaw as he leans into your gentle touch.

“But darling-” He starts, but you trace your thumb over his bottom lip as a distraction and to interrupt, not to be rude, but to show Bucky you don’t play when it comes to his safety and comfort.

“No buts Buck. We’re in this together, you and me. If the roles were reversed, and you knew I was feeling out of place like that, would you have let me stay?”

His lips curl inward slightly, involuntarily, in a way you have come to know occurs when he doesn’t want to admit he’s in the wrong. Without speaking, with just a grateful look that communicates more than he could articulate with words, he kisses you ardently in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to hide how you feel from me. I love every part of you, even the parts you try hiding away from the world. You’re safe with me.” Placing your hand on his chest, his eyes regard you with adoration - you’re not sure what thoughts are racing through his mind, but you can see the cogs turning behind his pupils.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Bucky, when are you going to learn that unconditional love means no strings attached? You deserve to be loved wholeheartedly for exactly who you are. And I promise to do just that, for the rest of my life.” You can feel his heartbeat quicken underneath the pads of your fingers.

He encompasses your hand in both of his, leans forward and speaks with a low tone, for your ears only.

“I love you too. I promise, I’m really gonna try to do better with communicating how I feel. Old habits are hard to break, but I really would do anything for you.”

With that, Bucky pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, like you’re his sturdy anchor grounding him as he tries to navigate the choppy, rough sea which has been his life. As you continue home, the weight of the evening slips away, replaced by the comforting feeling that regardless how traumatic his life has been up until now, you would always be a safe place for him to come back home to.

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications

[syrupbitee]

free my boy from his own show he did nothing wrong

[stellar-solar-flare]

Find the previous completely pointless poll here.

[ataraxianne]

Btw you heard it here first but I think Stella has been cheating on Stolas too, specifically with these two birds here

From what we've seen, they've sticked together for most of the party- shit-talking and laughing about Stolas mostly, but still together

It had always seemed weird to me that Stella didn't find out about the first night Stolas and Blitzø spent together, in her own house after her own party, not until "the morning after 'real fast'" at least, when Blitzø literally told her to her face. Because like... that was still HER room

In Loo Loo Land we see that when Octavia was 5 they shared the room and the bed, despite that marriage already being a nightmare, but later on still in that episode when she's shouting at Stolas she says "You had sex with an imp in OUR bed?", so they probably still sleep (slept) together even after all that time and, again, that horrible marriage and her abuse (as we could gather also from the family portrait that Stolas *still* has next to his bed - probably to still keep up the "happy family" appearances with Octavia)

So how come Stella didn't come back to bed after the party? How come she didn't realize about Stolas' "cheating" that night but only the morning after?

Simple: she was cheating on him too

Why am I so convinced? Well, why, out of all the couples that were at her party, those two birds were the only one who too stayed the night and that were having breakfast with Stella the morning after? BOTH in the canon series and in the non-canon pilot?

Stella, darling, do you have anything to share with the class?🎤🎤🎤

[stellar-solar-flare]

He barely notices when his hand lowers slightly, his gaze drifting up and— He sees you.

I think you described this beautifully here; I love how the way you've written it here pulls one into the moment.

It’s the most mundane of moments, the kind most people would overlook, but Steve feels like his heart stops.

Steve is definitely someone who sees the beauty in mundane and ordinary things and appreciates it.

You—lost in thought, unaware of him watching—are art in motion.

Aww. I enjoyed him comparing her to art. Of course he would.

What a beautiful, fragile moment. I think your prose and writing captures the way Steve is feeling here and how everything is so mundane and yet so special to them.

There’s no rush, no urgency; just Steve pouring everything he can’t put into words into the press of his mouth against yours. And as he holds you there, close and safe, all he can think is how lucky he is—how impossibly lucky he is—that you’re his to love.

This man deserves everything. And I share your headcanon that he definitely uses touch to help him tell things he can't put to words to those he loves.

Thank you for sharing this, it was beautiful.

dusky pink

Steve knows he's lucky to have you in his life. He knows he's incredibly lucky to be with you. But it isn’t until he sees you, lost in a quiet, simple moment, that he truly understands just how lucky he is.

tags: steve rogers x you; established relationship; gentle romance; domestic fluff; kissing; steve rogers is an artist, he's a romantic, but most importantly, steve rogers is a total goner for you; finding beauty in mundanity.

warnings: none except this that the reader's hair is long enough to be tied into a bun. no gendered language used for the reader.

word count: 574.

a/n: pictures used in header are from pinterest. dividers used here are by @inklore. mcu and its characters are not mine. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!! hope you'll enjoy reading this! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

The living room is wrapped in stillness, save for the soft clack of your fingers on the laptop keys and the faint hum of distant traffic outside. Steve sits slouched on the couch, thumb idly scrolling his phone, his mind half-absent as he flips through post after post he doesn’t care about. He barely notices when his hand lowers slightly, his gaze drifting up and—

He sees you.

You’re seated on the carpet, cross-legged in front of the coffee table, the glow of the overhead light spilling down like a halo. It hits the curve of your cheekbone, the soft slope of your nose, the tiny frown that’s pulled your brows together as you stare intently at the screen. There’s a strand of hair falling loose from your haphazard bun, one you’ve probably shoved up without thought, and you’re dressed in one of his old shirts—thin and worn, slipping lazily off your shoulder like it belongs there—paired with baggy shorts that swallow you whole. It’s the most mundane of moments, the kind most people would overlook, but Steve feels like his heart stops.

You’re not posed or polished; there’s nothing deliberate about you sitting there, but it’s everything. The kind of beauty he doesn’t have words for—the kind that stirs something deep in his chest. Real. Raw and unfiltered, the way morning sunlight feels when it hits a canvas just right. How many times has he tried to capture beauty like this, only to realize it can’t be replicated? You—lost in thought, unaware of him watching—are art in motion.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Steve sets his phone aside and slides off the couch to the carpet beside you. You’re so focused, brow furrowing tighter, that you don’t notice him until he’s right there, tucking that stray strand of hair gently behind your ear.

You startle, blinking up at him, confusion softening your features. “Steve?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, his gaze lingering on you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. Then, without thinking, his hand cradles your chin, his thumb brushing tenderly along your jaw as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, reverent—like he’s afraid to startle you again, like the moment itself is fragile. His lips linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and when he finally pulls back, there’s a faint flush on your cheeks, your brows knitting in the most adorably puzzled way.

“Not that I mind,” you mumble, voice small and sweet, “but… what brought that on?”

Steve smiles softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek as though to smooth away your frown. “You,” he says simply, voice low and steady—like he’s telling you a secret.

Your brows crease again, as though you don’t quite understand, but the confusion is already giving way to a shy, fluttering smile tugging at your lips. You open your mouth to say something—maybe to question him again—but before you can, Steve’s hand shifts to the back of your neck, pulling you into him once more.

This kiss is deeper, surer—his lips moving slowly, thoroughly, as though he’s memorizing the feel of you. There’s no rush, no urgency; just Steve pouring everything he can’t put into words into the press of his mouth against yours. And as he holds you there, close and safe, all he can think is how lucky he is—how impossibly lucky he is—that you’re his to love.

if you've enjoyed this fic and would like to be tagged in my future fanfics, please drop an ask into my inbox! thank you so much for reading this!! <333

[minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in the nsfw fics, by the way! i'm sorry!!]

[bubblybloob]

The moment I realized Scarlet Hollow had romance options after thinking the flirting stuff was just for shits and giggles and I had flirted with everyone at least once without realizing it could lead to something more until Stella invited me into her house on day four, that was the funniest shit ever and I’m a colossal dumbass.

[mgu-h]

the whole "if i had been with my friends, it would've been better, but they don't live in monaco" thing just makes me think of that clip of him and max f on stream discussing max moving to monaco, like lando making sure that max at least would still be around his friends and family and life and things. but then it's like. lando.. you're going to be alone. and this is worst case scenario for that!!

[dreamerdrop]

My issue with writing Julian POV is that I don’t think Julian is actually self-aware enough to realise how mind-blowingly attracted to Garak he actually is, no.

I think he would be in denial about it conciously, because Garak is a dangerous Cardassian who may or may not be a spy. Julian would filter his attraction through whatever justifications he can for why he’s not ~really~ attracted to him. (While blushing and being flustered by Garak’s overt attraction and flirting back like his life depends on it for reasons he will conveniently brush over in his head.)

But you see, I cannot conceive that anyone could ever, ever look at Garak and not immediately be overcome with lust that makes them dizzy. I can’t imagine having someone who looks like that approach so blatantly flirty and not just immediately following them back to their store to do whatever the fuck they tell you for as long as they want.

So it’s very hard for me to write Julian not being immediately on his knees for Garak because it baffles me that he didn’t just throw himself at Garak over the table in that replimat to begin with.

Maybe it’s my bizarre taste in men talking but how did this scene not end with Julian following him back to his store and being like “Yes, sir, what do you want to do with me, sir”.

[stellar-solar-flare]

I've been very excited to dive into this world, and finally I have the right brain space to do so. I've already said it but I'll say it again that it's always exciting to read fics that expand on the lore of the world or the tropes, and do worldbuilding beyond the love story.

Comment under cut for length/spoilers/content.

I love that we start off seeing Curtis being woken very early; it tells us a lot about his character right away, that he's willing to answer a call this early and is ready to jump to help.

“A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

Ew. This makes total sense though in an omegaverse. Kind of like some religious groups in our world but turned up to eleven with the abuse possibilities of the alpha/omega dynamics. It's like a polar opposite of what we see Curtis be and do and fight for here, and it's going to be quite the whiplash for Reader.

He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

Aww. He is a good man. And I love this scenario/setup, what this arrangement provides for the Omegas trying to get back on their feet. I especially enjoyed the little detail of the scent of distressed omegas causing him to be physically uncomfortable.

I feel for Yona being so overwhelmed and overworked and very likely under-resourced too.

He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest.

He's so thoughtful, and I love these little logistical notes. We can definitely see how the agency would view him as someone reliable.

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

Again, this makes sense, and I can imagine they're all dressed in a similar way in this sort of very modest dresses (ugh, that makes so much sense and it's gross) and maybe not a lot variation in hairstyles & such beyond natural texture.

Oh, I feel for her so hard already, how the mating bite tells Curtis so much, and how angry it makes him. I enjoyed the little notes of how his alpha instincts are to protect this omega, and honestly it says a lot about why he'd start doing this. It's probably his way of sort of... apologizing for all the hurt that his kind have caused, when they aren't behaving like alphas should, according to him. Or at least I'm getting that vibe.

I ship it already, even though I know it's going to be a very very very slow burn. I'm always excited for that - there's just nothing quite like taking all the time to build a relationship that gets me to root for the couple.

You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

Ohh, I like her! This is telling me a lot; I feel like there might be some dynamics underneath of how she wanted so much more than she was allowed to have in that community, use her brain more? Or maybe she's just tired of being treated like she's dumb.

But my heart breaks for her reaction. It's so obvious that she's been through so much, and gentle, comforting Curtis is just (incomprehensible cooing). I LOVE how mindful he is of her physical and mental boundaries - not just touching but the alpha command thing, too.

I also enjoyed the little notes about how this is not how things are done but how they don't have any better options, either. It'll make this fic even more interesting to see Curtis work outside his comfort zone, since he's usually called in much later in the process.

As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you

I love this man, your honor.

I am so excited for this fic and this world, and I'm definitely looking forward to more of it! Thank you for sharing your talent with us.

Still Life 1

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism, adult themes, explicit language, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, this is for all of you who thought you'd seen the worst angst I could possibly do. Sorry for how much this one's gonna hurt!

Big thanks to @paperweight91 and @bigtreefest who both read so much of this and helped with structuring and world-building. And huge thanks to everyone who showed so much enthusiasm for this idea. I'm so excited to share this story with you!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

It took a moment for Curtis to pull himself out of sleep enough to realize the incessant noise was his phone vibrating loudly on his nightstand. It took another moment for him to pull himself together enough to answer it. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Morning, Curtis,” a harried voice came through from the other end. “This is Yona from the Omega Welfare Center. I'm so sorry to call so early, but we've had kind of a crazy night here and we're in need of several emergency placements.”

That had him waking up. “What happened?” he asked, seriously, sitting up in bed.

She sighed, all of her exhaustion coming through. “A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

“Shit,” Curtis mumbled to himself. Traditionalist communities popped up on the news every once in a while, populated mostly by alphas on a power trip. But this one sounded bigger than most. He looked at his clock. It was just past five. “I’ve got room for one,” he said. “And I can be there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Curtis. I’ll see you soon.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Curtis was checking in at the center, his second coffee clutched in one hand. He’d been volunteering there as a foster Alpha for about three years. Mostly short-term placements. His longest one was just over a month. He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

He’d worked with a few different case workers during his time. Yona had been the main one for the past year. He’d never heard her sound like she had that morning.

Even just at the front desk, he could sense how much more chaotic it was here than usual. He could hear babies screaming beyond the office door, endless anxious chatter. The entire building reeked of omegas in distress. It made his nose itch and his skin crawl.

After a few minutes of waiting, Yona came and got him. “How bad is it?” he asked the omega as she hurriedly led him down the hall. 

She showed him into a small meeting room as she answered, “Really, really bad. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of them are talking, but from what we can gather, most of them have spent their entire lives in the compound. No IDs, no papers. Figuring out who they are has been nearly impossible.  And as terrible as it may have been, their whole world was ripped apart in the last twenty-four hours. No one feels like cooperating. We hope you might have better luck as an alpha.”

“You think they'll talk to me?” 

She shakes her head. “Just the Omega we're placing with you. They've all been taught never to trust outsiders, but they've also been raised to see Alphas as the ultimate authority. So, it's worth a shot.”

He nodded, slowly. “What do you need?”

“Just basic identifying information for now. So we can see if she even exists in any sort of governmental system. Then we can go from there.”

“If you don’t have any information, what makes you think I’ll be a good fit for her?”

“Honestly,” Yona said, with a helpless shrug, “you only have room for one and she doesn’t have any pups. That’s it. Listen, I know this isn’t how we normally do things and I’m so sorry I’m just throwing you into it without any preparation, but we’re really desperate here. They’re all high needs, high risk. There’s no existing support network for them, and there are more of them than we have room for. So we called all of our most experienced, most dependable alphas first thing this morning so we can focus on the ones we have room to house here. I know it isn’t fair to you but–”

“Hey,” Curtis interrupted. “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, a small fraction of the tension she’d been holding bleeding out of her shoulders. “Ok, I’m gonna go bring her in.” 

She slipped through the door and Curtis leaned against the table in the center of the room as he waited. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting together a to-do list. He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest. He’d gone grocery shopping the day before, so his pantry was stocked, but he’d see if there were any favorite comfort foods he could grab in his next shop. He needed to rearrange his work schedule, push back some deadlines so he’d have time to get the omega settled. He had no idea what they’d be bringing with them, so a shopping trip for toiletries and clothes would probably be necessary. Depending on the omega's state, maybe he'd be able to get the shopping done on the way back to his house. He glanced at the time on his phone. Shit. Depending on what was open.

At movement right outside the door, he stood at attention. Yona came back in with you right behind her. He took a good look at you. You wore a rumpled long-sleeved floral dress that went down to your ankles. It was faded like it’d been washed too many times. Your eyes were fixed on the tennis shoes you wore, which had probably been white at one point, but now were discolored and looked like they didn’t fit quite right. 

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

He had to stifle a gasp when his eyes landed on your neck. There was a large bite scar over your mating gland. Unlike the neat and pretty, well-healed ones he was used to seeing, yours was deep and jagged, red and white, scar tissue bubbling up where your flesh had clearly been torn. This didn’t look like a mating bite. It was the sort of bite meant to inflict pain. What sort of alpha had you had??

Your eyes stayed on the floor, your expression blank but your scent said so much – panic, sadness, terror, relief all jumbled together. He wanted to reach out and touch you, his alpha instincts were going haywire, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“This is Curtis,” Yona said to you. “He's the alpha who's going to look after you until we can get all this sorted.”

You didn’t react at all, just stood there, stiff as a board with your eyes on your shoes.

He stayed where he was, conscious of giving you space. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, as gently as he could. Then, with a glance to Yona, “Can you tell me your name?”

Your face scrunched up and the fear in your scent spiked but you didn’t say anything. He sighed. Shit. He really didn’t want to have to use an alpha command with you right now. That could be disastrous for any dynamic he tried to build with you. But they needed this information. He really, really hoped you wouldn’t make him force you.

“Omega, what’s your name?” he asked as firmly as he could, hopefully without scaring you. “I need to know.”

You closed your eyes tightly and he thought he saw the smallest little head shake. There was another moment of silence and he looked at Yona nervously. But then, you said it. So quietly he almost didn’t catch it. But you said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yona frantically scribbling it down, but his focus was completely on you.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief to himself. “That was so good. Thank you. You’re doing so well,” he said, keeping the praise soft, hoping you could scent how pleased he was with you. “When were you born?”

You gave up your birthday a little more easily, but you left off the year. 

“That’s great. Thank you. Do you know how old you are?” he asked, maintaining his gentle tone, knowing it was possible that you didn’t.

For whatever reason, it was that that finally got a reaction out of you. You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

There was a beat when no one did anything. Curtis and Yona just stared at you in shock. The snarl was frozen on your face until it suddenly disappeared and your eyes got wide. Before he was able to process any of what was happening, you’d dropped down onto your knees. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.” You just keep repeating that in a constant stream, your head tucked to your chest.

Repeatedly mixed into that jumble was a number. It took Curtis a few moments to realize it was your age. You were answering his question. He quietly repeated it to Yona, then dropped down to his knees as well so he could be closer to your level. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re right. You aren’t stupid. I can already tell how smart you are. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He wanted to reach out and touch you, wrap you in his arms, even, comfort you however he could. But he was too afraid that that’d make you panic even more. That was a boundary he couldn’t cross. Not yet. He stayed down there, whispering reassurances to you for as long as it took for you to stop apologizing, and a few extra minutes for your breathing to calm down. Once you seemed like you were back in the present moment, he moved to a crouch. “Think you can stand up for me, honey?”

You nodded, but you were back to keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, Alpha.”

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to call him ‘Alpha,’ that ‘Curtis’ was just fine. But that could wait until you were a little more comfortable. Once he had you home, maybe. He could already tell that picking his battles was going to be important.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up to his full height, and you did as well. “You answered my questions so well. You gave me exactly what I needed.” He looked to Yona to see if there was anything else.

“Do you have any questions for me or Curtis?” she asked you.

You shook your head, emphatically, hunching your shoulders. The room filled with the scent of fear again.

“Okay… that’s fine,” Yona said, and he could tell how much she hated this. “Well,” she turned to Curtis, “I’ll go get the paperwork and then you two can get home. I’ll be right back,” she said to you, then left the room. 

This was happening too fast. In normal circumstances, you would have already been at the center for a few weeks, at least, with access to mental health professionals, life skill classes, and support groups. He’d be the last step before going back to the real world. You’d be ready to spend time with an alpha. Ready to work through processing positive physical attachments. Ready to learn how to share space with someone who wasn’t a threat to you. You’d be ready to slowly take steps into the world, with him there to support you.

You had backed yourself into the corner now. He could see the way every single muscle in your body was trying not to cower. You weren’t ready. You were nowhere near ready. But with all the resources for at-risk omegas pushed to their limit by this raid, what would happen to you if he didn’t take you? As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you.

Yona came back in and he watched her take you in, sighing at your state. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. “Ok,” she said, handing him the packet of forms to sign. “No changes since last time. You know the drill.”

He nodded as he grabbed them and sat down at the table, getting to work signing where he was supposed to. As he did, he felt your eyes on him as the scent of your apprehension filled the room.

Yona called your name. “Let’s go outside for a minute while Curtis finishes up.”

You both left quietly. This, too, was part of normal procedure. She was asking if you were sure you were comfortable leaving with him, telling you you had the option to say no, getting your verbal and written consent, and giving you cards with all the emergency numbers on them. He was afraid this situation might stretch the legal definition of informed consent. Based on everything he’d seen so far, he couldn’t picture a scenario where you’d say no. 

Nothing about this felt good, but everyone’s hands were tied. And he knew that he’d do everything he could to keep you as safe as possible.

A few minutes after he’d finished signing the last page, you and Yona came back in. A worn knapsack hung from your fingers. It was small, confirming Curtis’s suspicions that you didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Alright, that was priority number one.

Yona had a thin folder in her hand that she immediately passed to Curtis. “The regular information, along with her schedule of appointments for the next few weeks, both doctor and therapist. And the card for the agent in charge of the investigation into the compound, in case anything pertinent comes up.” Then she turned to you with a small box. “I’ve got a couple packets of suppressants for you. Do you want them or do you want Curtis to keep track of them for you?”

Your eyes cut to him suspiciously then flitted back to the floor. “Alpha,” you muttered.

“Okay,” Yona said, handing the box to Curtis as well. Then she clapped her hands together, her face set in grim determination. “I won’t keep you any longer then. I’ll see you both next week.”

On the way out of the center, Curtis was all too aware of the way you walked exactly three steps behind him, one step to the left. That wasn’t just old-fashioned, it was archaic. He’d never seen an omega do it in real life.

At his truck, you looked at the truckbed in a way that made him worried you might try to ride back there, so he opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in. He resisted the part of his alpha instincts that wanted to buckle you in. And after a gentle request, you did it yourself.

As the two of you hit the road, he reached over to turn the radio on. He tried to move slowly, but you still flinched. “Want some music?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond, so he found an oldies station and left the volume low. His plan for the day had shifted a bit. You definitely weren’t ready to go shopping. That was fine. There was nothing that couldn’t be delivered.

About five minutes into the drive, the strong scent of your tears filled the cab. He looked over at you. You were huddled against the door, as far away from him as you could get. Your face was pressed against the window, so all he could see was the back of your head. But he could hear your sniffles and he could smell your distress.

It took everything in him to not pull over right now and reach over to comfort you. Pull you into his arms. Rub soothing circles on your back. But he knew that would do more harm than good. His touch wouldn’t be welcome. Yet. You weren’t ready.

And god, he wasn’t either. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But damn it, he was going to try.

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[psychotrenny]

Liberals say a lot of dumb shit, but if you're going to bother critiquing it then you need to understand what they're trying to say in the first place. Like "Late Stage Capitalism" isn't an especially useful or coherent term, but you can't dismiss it with "just say Imperialism" because that is very obviously not what people are talking about when they use it. Even just by contemporary usage, you should notice how it's nearly always employed by people complaining about declining quality of life (i.e. cuts to social safety nets, reduced domestic regulations, growing mismatch between costs of living and wages) within the Imperial Core. You never hear left liberals use it to discuss even the most obviously evil manifestations of Imperialism (i.e. coups and election subversion, "unjust" invasions, dropping napalm on children etc.) that even they are willing to criticise sometimes. In the contemporary discourse, it's functionally just a way to critique Neoliberalism by comparing it to Social Democracy- both are still equally Imperialist systems. Like "The Highest Stage of Capitalism" is consistently used by ML to mean imperialism, while "Late Stage Capitalism" is mostly used by Liberals to complain about getting an insufficient share of the loot.

There's also a need to consider that the idea of "Late Stage Capitalism" wasn't even popularised by left liberals; they merely adopted it and became its most enthusiastic users/abusers. The original use of the term "Late Capitalism" was in the early 20th century by reactionary (but Marxist influenced) German sociologist Werner Sombart to describe the state of capitalism in his time. However, by the 1960s it was most popular among members of the Frankfurt school of Marxism when discussing the features of the Post WW2 era. Its first popular use in English was in the 1975 translation of the thesis Late Capitalism by Belgian Trotskyist Ernest Mandel, but the person who popularised it the most was probably USamerican Marxist Frederic Jameson. He used it in his 1991 essay "Postmodernism or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, which effectively engaged in the sort of "society has become soooo superficial and consumerist" critique that liberals are happy to eat up. This implanted the phrase firmly in the heads of Anglophone Imperial-Core Left Liberals and adjacent revisionists, and by the 2010s as more and more people were drawn into that whole milieu ("became radicalised" as they like to put it) the phrase spread and spread and now you see it everywhere in any vaguely "leftist" space.

Now this whole summary isn't an attempt to defend the phrase by discussing its pedigree; I don't think it was ever a very good or useful phrase and that developments in global capitalism can be discussed without declaring the dawn of a new epoch based on a disconnected jumble of often superficial changes. My point is that the phrase has a whole history of its own; it's not something that got thoughtlessly made up one day and any meaningful critique of the phrase has to consider this. You need to meet people where they are at, based on what they're actually saying and not what it roughly sounds like they're saying. When you treat "Late Stage Capitalism" as just the Liberal version of "Highest Stage of Capitalism" because the two phrases sound kinda similar, it's criticism of the most superficial and idealist type. In your attempt to "pwn the liberals", you've ended up talking like one

[stellar-solar-flare]

I'm participating in @marvel-oc-hub event Marvel OC Hub Bingo 2025, both the comment version and the fic version. Here is my comment card, and this post will be used to track my progress.

If you have a fic to rec that'd fit any of the prompts listed below, let me know! It can be your own or someone else's. Both "x OC" and "x Reader" are allowed.

A fic posted more than 10 years ago.

A canon-compliant fic.

A fic with no pairing.

A fic written for Pride Month.

Also to fill the 'A pairing you haven't read before' square, I'm looking for fics that have a Reader or an OC and either Bruce Banner, Peggy Carter, or Loki as the main love interest.