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terapsina · 5 months

Note

Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay. Post-Voyager, return home. (If you’ve seen Prodigy pre-Prodigy before Chakotay receives his commission as Captain. If you’re up to it, lightly touching on the Chakotay and Seven of it all? Seven might have left for the Rangers at this point. It’s alright if that’s too much of a prompt!)

(okay, this will take place closer to Post-Voyager era than Pre-Prodigy era but does take place inside that frame of time. Also, I couldn't find any specific dates about when exactly Seven joined the Rangers so let's just assume here that it happened pretty soon after they returned home (for various reasons but mostly because I think Seven would have grown restless pretty quickly and also because I just can't imagine she and Chakotay lasted very long at all)).

ao3

Chakotay and Kathryn were fine.

Completely fine. In comparison to the seven years aboard Voyager where they stayed at the constant edge of destruction, with the threat of losing all the souls aboard the ship that they were responsible for constantly biting at their heels, they were more than fine now.

They met for weekly dinners. They no longer argued because of the stress of their positions; because all they'd sacrificed of themselves had hollowed them out into a Captain and a First Officer and very little else. The frost that had grown in the cracks of their friendship had thawed during this past year home. They were sharing jokes again and enjoyed perfectly pleasant conversations in each other's company.

They discussed how their weeks had gone; and how Kathryn and him were adjusting to being home again. They talked about their sisters and shared whatever news they'd heard from the crew lately. Talked about the latest antics of Kathryn's two dogs - both the grand-pups of the Irish Setter she'd left behind on Earth when she'd been ordered to capture Chakotay an eternity ago. Mollie herself had lived only two months past the Voyager's return, Chakotay's heart still twinged remembering the way Kathryn had tried to keep up a strong face when she'd told him about the dog's passing.

They were fine. Really, they were better than they'd been in a really long time now.

Chakotay should have been happy about it, - and admittedly there was the relief that he hadn't lost Kathryn entirely. Their return to the Alpha Quadrant had given him his best friend back and...

...and Chakotay was miserable.

"You remember I told you how the voice reader for the replicator broke last week and I had to put it on manual? Well, Faba figured out this morning how to make the cursed thing spit out the last meal programmed in there, when I got home from Starfleet Command the entire kitchen floor was covered in dog food. You can't imagine the guilty looks on her and Capulus when they saw me." Kathryn's eyes danced with amusement as she took a sip of wine from her glass.

Chakotay's own lips pulled up at the corners, the initial moment entirely genuine because when Kathryn Janeway smiled the entire room brightened.

But the smile fell away a moment too quickly and ever observant, Kathryn noticed. "I'm sorry, Chakotay, I'm hogging the conversation this evening. You seem to have something on your mind?"

"No," he said, forcing forward another smile, hoping this one would better disguise his melancholy mood. "It's simply been a long week, I'm just tired, I think."

He saw Kathryn's eyes go to the timepiece hanging on the wall behind him and cursed himself for the chosen excuse. He didn't intend to make her think he was too tired for her company.

"It is getting late, I suppose I'll see you next week. Same time? Or do you have plans?" At the beginning of their post-return dinners, Chakotay had tried to read some kind of tightness in Kathryn's voice when she asked about his plans. Selfishly hoping for a sign that their implied existence might bother her, that there still existed traces of the feelings that years ago he'd been certain were there. But there was never anything except polite curiosity.

He was starting to suspect that whatever potential had been there had been destroyed by his stupidity and the very badly timed mid-life crisis that had tripped him just before the finish line.

"No plans," he told her and did his very best not to inquire after her own. He knew his question would be full of the unvoiced things lacking in hers.

"Speaking of, have you heard from Seven recently? She's been hard to get a hold of since she joined the Fenris Rangers."

"No," he said, avoiding Kathryn's eyes as he always did whenever she mentioned Seven of Nine now. He wished she'd stop. Or that she'd finally address the splinter he'd seen her ignoring for eleven months now. When Chakotay had told her that he and Seven had parted ways barely weeks after landing on Earth, she'd inquired if he was okay and revealed not a hint of emotion more. Not anger. Not relief. Not disappointment. Nothing. He might as well have been Harry Kim telling her how he'd broken up with one of the Delaney twins again. "But B'Elanna mentioned receiving a subspace message from her a few weeks ago so I wouldn't send out any alarms yet."

"Good." Kathryn smiled again, swallowing another deeper mouthful of the wine Chakotay had brought over earlier, and finishing the glass.

She wasn't as careful as usual though - being out of uniform and off the deck of the Voyager had made her freer in a number of tiny ways - and his eyes trailed a tiny spill of red as it escaped the corner of Kathryn's mouth and slid over her chin before gliding slowly down her neck.

Heat sliced clean through his lower stomach as he hastily averted his eyes, this time to hide the hunger that had no doubt visibly flashed across his face. Chakotay sent a silent thank you to the spirits of his ancestors for her eyes having remained closed while she enjoyed the last sip.

Maybe he really should start getting ready to leave.

Candlelight, wine, and Kathryn were not a combination that inspired all that much sanity in Chakotay. He'd thought he'd developed at least a partial immunity in the later years of their journey, as that brightly burning hope he'd cradled in his heart had eventually begun to be smothered by the innumerable trials and tribulations; by the thousand small cuts and steadily growing walls.

Of course, he'd pretty much found out exactly how wrong he was on that point the first time he'd seen her after the former members of the Maquis had received their official pardons from the Federation. When the entire crew had shown up to celebrate and he'd looked across the ballroom someone - probably Paris - had reserved for the event, when for the first time in years had seen Kathryn instead of Captain Janeway.

She'd been wearing a dark red dress that had hugged her front nearly like a second skin and let only air touch half her back. The dress had been tasteful and elegant of course, as anything Kathryn wore always was but Chakotay had known he was fucked the moment his eyes had landed on her. The feeling was yet to leave.

"Next week, then." He confirmed.

"Goodnight, Chakotay," Kathryn said and walked around the dinner table to give him a brief hug and a kiss on his cheek. His eyes slid closed at the singing sensation of her lips against his skin.

Right, that. If ever someone tried to convince him this woman didn't have a cruel bone in her body he might just have to point and laugh. Hysterically.

He opened his mouth to return the goodnight when something that had been steadily straining and stretching for months and months finally snapped.

"Are you ever going to forgive me, Kathryn?" he asked, exhaustion heavy in his voice and eyes still closed. He wasn't sure he could bear seeing her face if he was really starting this conversation.

"What?"

"I promised something to you once, and broke it just before it would have finally been time to fulfill it."

"You never promised me anything." And finally, he heard the tightness in Kathryn's voice he'd been looking for.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, letting her see all the things he'd shielded from her in the Delta Quadrant when showing them would have left his Captain bleeding.

"I did and you know I did, Kathryn. Never aloud because it would have hurt you to hear it. But we both knew."

And finally, finally, anger flashed like lightning in Kathryn's eyes.

"Why did it have to be Seven, Chakotay?"

"I don't know." And he didn't know. He'd asked himself that question a hundred times and never found a good answer. Not one that put him in any kind of good light anyway.

Male ego. Because a part of him had known that it would be the one way he'd actually be able to hurt Kathryn the way she'd been hurting him for years by then. Because he thought he couldn't hurt Kathryn at all and had to finally prove it to himself somehow. Because Seven had shown interest, and he'd been so very tired, and it could have been anyone at all. Because he'd been losing hope.

He didn't know.

"We were supposed to return to Earth together. You were supposed to be right beside me. It was supposed to--"

"I know. I'm sorry, Kathryn," Chakotay whispered and dared to wipe an angry tear from her face.

"And it's not like I had any right to feel--"

He smiled thinly. "And when I found you on Quarra I had no right to want to cave in Jaffen's face. Or that Irish hologram's. Or Q's."

And oh, how Chakotay had wanted to.

"I--" she looked startled like she hadn't suspected any of that. There was something nearly impressive about that, the crew certainly seemed to have steered clear of Chakotay for a solid week after every event where their captain had gotten courted by one alien or another.

Well, steered clear by everyone except Paris and Tuvok. And B'Elanna. But Paris had long since proven himself to be just a bit suicidal to a degree that had eventually earned him Chakotay's respect. And Tuvok was... well, Tuvok.

And B'Elanna just didn't count.

"I had no right. You had no right. But it hurt me, and then I hurt you. And I need to know if you're going to forgive me. Because it still hurts, Kathryn." He cupped the side of her face, barely letting his fingers graze her skin. "You're my best friend. And my partner for eight years now. And you're always going to be the love of my life. I will accept whatever answer you give me, even if you tell me that there's a part of you that's going to hate me forever. But please, Kathryn, I need to know."

Finished, Chakotay fell silent.

Kathryn stared at him with angry, anguished eyes. Then she closed them and Chakotay had to force himself not to shudder.

He could take whatever blow she threw. He'd survive it. Not entirely whole, maybe, but he would survive.

"There is an ancient legend among my people," she said, nearly entirely under her breath but Chakotay still felt the universe come to a stop; could feel the Earth itself halt in its spin. "It is about a Lonely Sea Captain who had lost her way in a storm, and to bring her people home she made a deal with the gods. She locked her heart in a wooden chest and promised them she would not open it until they reached shore. But there was a Brave Warrior aboard her ship too, who worried that without any heart at all the Lonely Sea Captain would be lost - and he was right, she would have been - so he gave her his heart to carry while her own was locked away. She wasn't always kind to that gifted heart, wasn't always careful with it, - and sometimes, sometimes she was afraid she'd lost it - but it gave her strength, and it gave her hope, and it brought her home."

"Is there really an ancient legend?" he whispered, barely daring to breathe. Caught in her gaze like a fly in a spider-silk web.

"No." Another tear began to slide down Kathryn's cheek. "But that made it easier to say."

Chakotay leaned forward and kissed that precious pearl of salt from her cheek.

"The Captain never lost her Warrior's heart," he assured her softly and waited patiently with his lips pressed into her cheek until she moved her head and kissed him.

---

(fun fact: Capulus is Latin for Coffee and Faba is Latin for Bean).

#janeway x chakotay #chakotay x janeway #kathryn janeway #chakotay #star trek #voyager #voyager fic #star trek fic #fanfic #otp: the captain and the warrior #isagrimorie #prompts

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mimisempai · 5 months

Text

Craving for your touch

Summary

When you haven't been touched with tenderness for as long as Mobius has, the slightest touch is overwhelming, but he certainly didn't expect to react so strongly to a simple shoulder massage from Loki.

Notes

I can't stop thinking about touch-starved Mobius ever since he said goodbye to B15 and the two of them looked like they wanted to hug each other, but clearly didn't know how.

On Ao3

Rating G - 1558 words

Mobius dropped onto the sofa next to Loki, who was reading.

Ever since he'd moved here and started renovating his house, he'd noticed that physical work had this ability to release stress and strong emotions. So after his discussion with Loki and all that it had brought out in him, he had spent the morning completing the renovation of the banister of the staircase leading up to his house.

Loki, fully aware of this, put down his book and asked him thoughtfully, "Are you all right, now?"

Mobius nodded and replied with a smile, "Yes, much better.

Suddenly his smile turned into a grimace he couldn't suppress.

His days as a trained hunter were long gone, so even after a relaxing shower he could still feel the effects of manual labor on his muscles.

He lifted his hand and began to massage his shoulder to ease the aching pain.

Loki replied in a slightly ironic tone, "Not so good after all.

Mobius shook his head and chuckled slightly before replying, "It's nothing, just a few muscles that aren't used to working hard anymore."

Loki turned all the way to Mobius and said, "Turn around."

Mobius looked at him in confusion.

Loki waved his hand and repeated, "Come on, for once do what I say without question and turn around."

Mobius, his eyebrows furrowed, turned to show Loki his back.

The god placed his hands gently on Mobius' shoulders and began to make small circles with his thumbs over the strained muscles.

Mobius, unable to hold back a small moan of relief, protested, "Loki, you don't have to do this.

Leaning forward, Loki planted a kiss on Mobius' temple and said softly, "I don't have to, but I want to. So indulge me, okay?"

Mobius sighed, "'kay..."

Loki continued, but after a few moments he stopped and said quietly, "You know, it would be more effective if I didn't do it through your clothes. It will be better if you take off your shirt."

Feeling Mobius' shoulders tense slightly under his hands and getting no response from him, he lost his smile and asked, a little worried, "Unless you don't want to, which I could understand, since it's still very new, what-"

Mobius interrupted, shaking his head, "It's not that... well, it is, and it's also just that I haven't been this intimate with anyone since... since I can't remember when."

Loki hummed, then asked softly, "Is this something you want?"

Mobius nodded slowly and replied in a steady voice, "If it is with you, yes."

Loki's smile returned to his lips and he said, "How about we go to your room instead, it'll be much more comfortable."

He waited for Mobius to nod, then stood up and held out his hand to help him to his feet, pushing him towards the hallway that led to the bedroom.

Once in the room, he let him sit up on the bed, but when Mobius immediately started to unbutton his shirt, Loki knelt in front of him, placed his hands on his and asked quietly, "May I?"

Mobius nodded and placed his hands on either side of him on the edge of the bed as Loki's replaced them and began to unbutton the shirt. Once the shirt was fully undone, the god gently placed his hands on Mobius' bare shoulders underneath the shirt, making sure the man was still comfortable, then slid the shirt down his shoulders and then his arms before helping him out of it.

He planted a light kiss on Mobius' forehead and said gently, "Lie on your stomach so I can take better care of your shoulders, okay?"

Mobius nodded and complied, soon lying on his stomach with his head resting on his crossed arms.

Loki then settled astride Mobius' lower back and placed his hands gently on his tense shoulders.

Mobius couldn't contain a shiver at this first real contact on his bare skin and Loki, noticing, removed his hands. Mobius responded with a slight whimper and immediately bit his lips in embarrassment, confused by this uncontrolled reaction.

Fortunately for him, Loki was incredibly perceptive and told him gently, "I understand."

He placed his hands on Mobius' shoulders and began to gently massage him, watching for every reaction on his face. He worked out every knot and tension until he felt under his hands that Mobius was completely relaxed and free of pain. When he was done, he gently removed his hands and Mobius whimpered again at the loss of contact and stifled it again by biting his lips.

Loki repeated softly, "I understand Mobius, don't hide from me, please."

As Loki began to slide off his back, Mobius reached out and grabbed his wrist before saying in a barely audible voice, "Stay.

The god looked a little surprised but let himself slide down Mobius' body and lay on his side next to him, resting his head on one hand. Then, brushing Mobius' hair back with his other hand as he looked at him, he said softly, "I'm staying here."

Mobius shook his head and said in a sheepish voice, "I'm sorry, Loki. I don't mean to be so demanding, I really don't know why I'm reacting like this."

Loki replied tenderly, "I do, Mobius. I understand what it's like to be alone for so long, not to touch anyone and not to be touched by anyone. Believe me, Mobius, I know exactly what it's like."

His hand slipped from Mobius' hair to his cheek and Mobius instinctively leaned into it. Aware of the gentle warmth of Loki's hand on his cheek, his throat tightened and he tried to stop the emotion of Loki's hand and words, but nothing could stop it.

Years without the slightest tender contact had heightened the sensations with every touch and now it was as if Mobius had opened a dam and was unable to hold back the flood.

Loki said nothing, just wrapped his arms around Mobius' waist and pulled him against him. Mobius felt every place where Loki's skin touched his own and was only conscious of Loki's hands hypnotically caressing his back and his soothing whispers against his hair. Now that he had let go, lulled by this softness and the security of the embrace, he didn't even feel sleep invade him.

When he awoke much later, it was dark and the place beside him was cold. He had no idea how long he'd slept.

He blushed slightly as he thought about what had happened and felt bad for looking so weak in front of Loki. All over again. Then, when he heard activity coming from the kitchen, he decided to get up and when he reached the living room, he found himself face to face with Loki, who was carrying a tray with two steaming cups.

The god said to him happily, "You're awake!" and immediately added, a slight concern in his eyes, "How are you?"

"Fine, better than fine," Mobius replied before continuing, "What's that?" pointing to the two cups.

"Tea," Loki replied, motioning for him to follow, "Come on, let's sit down."

As they sat side by side on the sofa, Loki handed him a cup. Mobius took it and thanked him gently.

They drank in silence, Mobius enjoying the warmth of the drink, which warmed him as much as the touch of Loki's thigh and shoulder against him. After they put their cups back on the coffee table, Mobius turned to Loki and said quietly, "Thank you, and I don't mean for the massage or the tea. I'm sorry for being so... I don't know, weak probably, I don't want you to think that..."

Loki put a finger over Mobius' mouth and interrupted, "Don't apologize for anything, I've told you I understand how you feel and at no time have I ever considered you weak. In fact, I'm immensely grateful to you for making yourself so vulnerable in front of me. "

He leaned closer and slid his hand from Mobius' lips to his cheek before asking softly, "Mobius, may I kiss you?"

Mobius nodded slowly and Loki closed the distance between them. At first, it was just a brush of lips, but Mobius returned the kiss and they continued to kiss like this for long minutes without feeling to go any further.

They just enjoyed it, their lips and bodies touching, getting to know each other, becoming more and more comfortable with each other.

A little later, they were snuggled together, Mobius resting against Loki, his head on Loki's shoulder, gently caressing Loki's chest while Loki's fingers stroked his hair.

Loki, feeling Mobius smile against him, asked softly, "What are you smiling at?"

Mobius chuckled softly and said, "It felt like our first kiss. I know it's probably ridiculous, but..."

Mobius felt Loki kiss his hair, then the god murmured, "It's not ridiculous, after so long of everything being rushed, we finally have time to do things and be aware of them. So it's like everything is new."

Loki leaned in again and captured Mobius' lips in another kiss.

They didn't know where this relationship would take them.

It was much too early to tell.

But what they did know was that they had so much to explore together, to learn about each other, and all the time in the universe to do it.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Timeless Growing love : here (After season 2)

Lokius masterlist : here

#lokius #lokius fics #loki #mobius m mobius #loki x mobius #wowki #moki #time husbands #timefrost #mobius x loki #loki series #loki season 2 #loki mobius #mobius loki #post season 2

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yoursweetestnightmarelover · 5 months

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Juzi head cannon

J after coming back with Tessa, starts hanging around Uzi she didn't know why, but she wanted to be around her, she wanted her attention each time the purple haired drone, Comments on this, she just brushes her off with "Don't flatter yourself I'm just keeping an eye on you."

Uzi, coming back from school and heading to the pod, after a few minutes of walking Uzi calling out "N V are you guys here?" Uzi calls out only to hear the sound of a drone landing behind her "They're not here sorry toaster, out hunting" J said casually "Then why aren't you with them" Uzi said with a snarky tone, bracing herself having to deal with J, "I already got what I needed" K said in a smug tone. While waiting for N and V. Uzi pulling out her phone scrolling through 9chan a copper 9 image board J slinking over behind her watching Uzi scrolling through a thread talking about some show "Can I help you?" Uzi said, turning around to look at J "Ugh no just surprised out browse there do you take shower once a year too?" J says in a catty tone, letting out a laugh, "BITE ME" Uzi shouted walking away heading into the pod but looking behind her as she hears a male voice saying Hey Uzi.

"Can't you two be nice to each other" N says in a sad tone, Uzi and J rolling their eyes J being the first one to speak up "Maybe if she took a bath once in a while~ J teased Uzi quickly shot back "WELL MAYBE IF SOMEONE WASN'T SUCH A CAPITALIST LAPDOG-" N quickly intervened "Uzi J please stop fighting" he pleaded "V help?" he asked V rolled her eyes and said "if you two are going to fight take it outside I don't need to listen to you both bitch at each other" N looked at her "V!!" he shouted "what" V said N just shook his head and flew off Uzi left shortly after J following V watching this realized what was going on even if they didn't.

Uzi stomping off, heading back to the bunker, "GOD WHY WAS J SO ANNOYING COULDN'T SHE JUST SHUT UP" Uzi thought to herself she wanted to wipe that smirk off her face Uzi's mind Imagined J laying on the ground panting and scuffed up Uzi would straddle her hips a smug look on her face as she looked down grab her tie and pull her into a kiss Uzi blocking that thought from continuing further in her processor Uzi knocking on the bunker door

A few days later, J returning from an unsuccessful hunt landing on the pod and entering it only to see Uzi there looking up at her "where are N and V?" Uzi asked, "Don't know, don't care" J growled out Uzi noticing that "what's got your tail in a twist someone stole on your JCJenson signed manuals" Uzi asked in a mocking tone J staring daggers at her only to stop for a moment to exhaling venting out some of the heat from her core J taking off her suit top leaving the dress shirt on sighing as she felt a small amount of relief as did Uzi seeing this realized what was going on "OHHH you don't have enough oil~" Uzi said a smug smile on her face "UGH YES FINE I'M LOW YOU HAPPY?!" J shouted Uzi smile faded, she knew what it was like to deal with the heat, It was like suffocating in a steam house J looked at Uzi was-was she really going to ask HER, of all drone for oil, "Uzi?" J asked In a quiet tone? "Uzi, already knowing what she was going to ask her, "Hm? Need something?" Uzi asked, "Your oil give it to me" J said in a whisper looking away from Uzi, "I don't think I heard you" Uzi lied J immediately knew what she was doing a part of her knew Uzi would do this she was about to tell her to go shove it but J panted feeling a spike in her internal temperature dropping to the floor J shakily getting back up she decided that she needed that oil NOW "Your oil give it to me" J said looking at Uzi. "You're missing the magic word~" Uzi said "PLEASE" J shouted Uzi looked at her still waiting J knew what she wanted to hear and In desperation she said it "Uzi may I please have some of your oil?" J pleaded Uzi, offering her arm up "you may" she said, a smug smile on her face, J had a sinister thought she wasn't going to play this game exactly the way Uzi wanted her too. J slowly moving to her then shooting to Uzi neck straddling her biting down lapping the oil that came out of the wound "J WHAT THE HELL I MEANT MY ARM" Uzi shouted trying to remove J from her neck J switching her hands to claws digging them into the seat, Uzi deciding that It may not be a good idea to move her not sure where to put her hands she slowly lowered them to J hips J noticing this but to busy enjoying her meal By JCJenson himself she tasted good after a few minutes of drinking Uzi oil she entered sleep mode Uzi realizing this had a blush on her visor WHY WAS SHE BLUSHING Uzi thought to herself.

#murder drones #murder drones uzi #j x uzi #uzi doorman #md uzi #md j #j murder drones #serial designation j #shipping #headcanon #minific #juzi

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kimyoonmiauthor · 2 months

Text

Reviews and Critiques and how to handle them.

So the second best treaties about this was Holly Lisle's Mugging the Muse (2000), which, BTW, I read much later, because she'd stepped down by then from Forward Motion. At the time I read it, it was free, but now it's paywalled, so it has gems in there, the most useful of which is don't jump on paychecks and budget. Learn how to do Writer Tax returns. Remember to truly LIVE to write better *cough Barthes should have known this one. And the last one is how to take critiques.

The one on critiques goes like this: She used scream and shout when she got critiques and sometimes cry. She'd go into the bathroom and scream and let her do this. And then force herself to act professionally. The BEST of us at this process still fucks up once in a while. The trick is to not fuck up too often.

This is my second best treaties I've seen and heard about it. The first treaties I ever learned about how to take critiques is from my former teacher/advisor, Thomas C. Joyce, who unfortunately died of cancer some years back.

I do remember the names of the people. But as I don't have permission to use their likeness and I don't want them to be harassed. The people who are living (as far as I know) I will not name. I am also including my own fuck ups, because it's only fair. But the core of this is mostly Tom Joyce. Who said something on the order of don't call me "Mr. Joyce, it makes me feel weird. Call me Tom."

He was my advisor at the Young Writer's Camp–a summer writing camp. For this reason, I'll call him Tom.

I wanted to write this treaties out because he never wrote it anywhere... and I might remember parts of it wrongly, but I 100% used this to post to Nanowrimo's first critique threads, and then for the critique forums, which served as the core of a lot of critique groups online?? (not sure about that). And I listed the rules he gave me during critiques. Also that there has been a rise in people who can't take or give critiques and they think doing so won't help their writing. So, I won't write it as eloquently as him, and honestly I'm writing this quite sad because I do wish it was his words here instead of my fuzzy memories of him.

Let me dip a bit into memory lane first, so you get a sense of who Tom was. Tom smoked. He knew he smoked a lot and didn't particularly care. He liked to give this lesson on perception. with music, showing that the simpler things in life aren't always first. And that the source of stories can come from anywhere–not just writing.

When I met him he was a bit portly, which he'd sometimes point out about himself and had salt and pepper hair, which was curly. He'd often talk about how he wanted to lose weight.

He had this calm and cool demeanor about him, but also warm. So when he gave you a critique, it felt like he was reaching into your writerly soul and he could pull out your intentions in an instant. He not only saw where you were, but more importantly, where you were going and intended to go. I aspired to be that sort of critiquer.

He never judged you on your process to write. He had no lessons about that. And he based the entire time around critiquing and making sure you had something for the group. If you wrote on clay tablets, I think he wouldn't care. He'd likely joke loosely about it, but he wouldn't care and say, can you share it?

We did not write the same genre. We did not have the same process to write by a long shot. I never really read his writing and since he was an advisor, he rarely talked about his own writing or boast. He was a cool character because he was HUMBLE and he pressed it into you that YOU MUST STAY HUMBLE at every point of the process. Brave enough to share, but humble enough to take critiques.

He loved anedotes. I probably got my love of making up extended analogies from him.

He was not just a good writing teacher he was the BEST writing teacher I've ever had. And fuck it—I've read a TON of ass novel writing manuals from Aristotle to the present and I've heard author interviews all over the best, I would rank him as the best.

He was so memorable that when I finally got something published he was on my top list of people to show because I'd promised myself I would do so, but when I looked him up so I could pass the story to him, I had found that he'd died of cancer. I was DEVASTATED.

The fact we didn't write the same didn't matter because his lessons around critiquing. His process was this:

You write. You get critiqued. You take the critique gracefully to your face. You learn to critique. You learn both of these processes and perfect them and apply them, and you get better as a writer. He had several large arguments for this process and why he didn't want it to be regimented into telling people how to write.

Remembering his lessons, I posted his loose list of critique rules to early Nanowrimo boards–I posted the first critique threads for first pages and queries, but never his justification for them, because I didn't think it was my place to, but he's not published it himself and I think the internet is forgetting. And I don't think we should forget Tom Joyce since he taught me some really excellent lessons that I think you need to know.

So loosely, Tom's treaties on taking a critique goes something like this:

On receiving a critique:

Stay silent when people critique you. No. Hold your tongue (Fuck, I'm really still working on this one).

Remember any time they put into the critique is a blessing.

Only open your mouth to fact check the person. If they think the US flag has green, you can POLITELY correct them.

Stop explaining your work before you give the piece. He taught me this one. I still struggle with it. I still repeat the advice, but I still have issues.

Do not argue with your critiquers. I've fucked this one up too.

Critiques aren't always right and sometime you have to divine what they are really getting at.

On giving a critique:

When you give a review try to balance the review out. You give 3 bad things, you give 3 good things list them out. Do a summary for your review. YOU MUST find something good to say about it.

Try to read the entire piece before you comment.

Honor the wishes of the author. If they don't think something is working, try to figure out why.

Do your best to separate "Not for you" versus objectively written bad.

Be SPECIFIC. That's more important than the length of your review. He drove this into me.

He argued, the more you critique other people, the better writer you become. And the more you consume, in general, the better writer you become. The more you recieve critiques, the better you become. It's a two-way process, not a one-way process.

His arguments are pretty much why I dislike the whole idea that people don't "have time to give critiques" and thus don't want to give one back. No. If you do 10,000 critiques and get better at them and get 10,000 in return and learn to apply them well, you get better as a writer. Focus on your craft and the writer you want to become.

And now you can see why even though we did not write the same genre, I did not know his writing work, I did not have a matching writing process, that I treasured his lessons. He also had this thing where he was super, super cool with however people wrote. He never, ever disciplined how one should or should not write. He simply said, produce the writing–that's the most important part. And then get it critiqued. We did do occasional writing lessons, but he never ranked that as important.

Now for his arguments on why he thought these things.

So, as a younger writer I struggled and still struggle quite a bit with the first rule. The shut up and listen to someone tear your baby apart.

How to Receive Critiques

First Rule: Stay silent when others critique you and NEVER argue with your critiquer.

His argument went this way: You, the writer are never going to win against a critic. Your entire existence is going to be criticism. You have choices. You suck it up, and accept it is part of the writing thus owning it. You incorporate the suggestion. Or you do better next time.

He had an anecdote, which he liked to tell about this writer who fought against a critic and screamed and shouted and the writer lost.

The result of you fighting against a critic, according to Tom, is that you gain a bad reputation. ALWAYS. Never fight your reviewers.

As Holly Lisle said, go scream into a pillow somewhere, but shut the fuck up and get off the internet. Don't post it onto boards. Tell a friend privately, but don't post it in public. Give yourself a set amount of time to get back to it.

He liked to say stop throwing stones at glass houses. It's not going to work.

No lie, his cool attitude over this still has me screaming at times, HOW DID YOU DO IT? I still try to override the impulse. It's so hard.

Second rule: Every time someone bothers to critique you it's a blessing.

They spent time, and effort consuming your product. As he liked to say THEY ARE A PAYING CUSTOMER. Treat your customers correctly.

And if they are not paying, they were paying their time with you. They cared enough about your work and you to give you a critique.

You have to suck it up and do better.

BTW, if you watch the Youtube Channel, Wait in the Wings, this argument comes up over and over again. When you fight the critics, you lose the majority of the time. When you honor they came to the show and did understand it,

They really cared about you and your art to do this, no matter how cutting it is. Learn to breathe, move on and figure out what to do next.

Third Rule: The only time you open your mouth AFTER the person is done, is on two cases:

The first is to say thank you. The second is to fact check something obvious.

There is no green in the American flag, for example.

DO NOT ARGUE WITH YOUR REVIEWER and don't use this opportunity to try to feel superior to them. WTF man, go back to shutting up. TT

I still struggle with this. I'm swallowing my own feelings as I'm saying thank you. And I'm fighting the voices. And Tom acted like it was easy.

Fourth Rule: Stop explaining your work before you show it.

No lie, my other professors who have given critique sessions also said this. My typography teacher said this, which I keep repeating to myself, "Stop explaining your work. Say that you did the best that you could for the time you were given."

But Tom's logic went like this: Every time someone picks up your work, are you going to be beside them to explain what you MEANT by this or that. Will you be in their ear to talk about your intentions? Let them read the work themselves.

No, it's on you the writer to communicate it better.

Most of the time it's on you, the writer to do it better. (go back to rule number 1 on why).

Fifth Rule: No really, don't argue with your critiquers

It will only end in a bad reputation. Learn how to let it go. Move on. Either take the advice or leave it. See if it works, but at least try it. But arguing with your critiquers will result in nothing good.

How to Give Critiques

First rule: When you give a review, try to balance the review out.

If you give 3 bad things, give three good things, but remember that the person has feelings, so put the good things first. The best critique is good things, bad things, summary. We'll get into how to sort a critique later.

Tom liked to say, remember there is a human being behind that work. And that you won't get that mercy in real life once your work is "out there."

Second rule: Try to read the entire piece first before you comment and then make your comments.

This is your basic reasoning of trying to figure out what the writer is trying to achieve instead of hyper focusing on what they did wrong.

Third rule: Honor the wishes of the author

Spoken and unspoken. If they think something is not working, try to figure out why and some solutions one can do to fix it. Don't just say this thing is wrong. Figure out why. This process will make you also a better writer.

Try to make the piece in front of you better for the author, not how you would write it. He repeated this a lot so you got it. It's not about you and OMG, I would insert dragon here because I could do it better. No, face the piece in front of you and find ways to help the author where they are. You may ultimately disagree and they might not take your advice, but make sure it's about the author, not you.

Rule 4: Do your best to sort "Not for you, versus objectively written bad."

He didn't write romance, fantasy, or Science Fiction. It didn't matter to him or this process. Because there are some commonalities and if you read widely enough, you will know what is good or bad. Don't discriminate like that. If you're struggling with this go to the previous rule about honoring the wishes of the author.

Rule 5: Be specific as possible on why you like or dislike the item in front of you. This helps to sort it out later.

If you say, character is lame. That's not helpful. If you say I dislike the character is diving off the cliff without motivation and I don't know why and the physics don't make sense, that's a lot more helpful to the writer.

He would say too, that the more you're specific and drill down to why, the better you become as a writer. This is why DOING critiques is as important as receiving them. Do the best you can as a critiquer and be specific as possible. It will develop your writer brain and editor brain better.

And I should insert around here:

Revenge critiques are counter productive to you becoming a better writer.

He didn't say this. But I think he would agree given the previous treaties, especially on the idea that the writer is always going to lose.

OMG, you said info dump in MY STORY was bad. So I'm going to find every instance that you info dumped and point it out to you.

Your hurt feelings shouldn't be entering into critiques. Go outside, do something else, come back. You aren't in a place of learning. And sometimes what works for one story will not work for another. Sometimes people do it on purpose and go back to the previous rule about the intentions of the author.

The writer who never honestly critiques and revenge critiques and doesn't listen to critiques, never improves and gets better.

How to Sort Your Critiques

Sort them into these tiers/categories:

Grammar

If you're crying over grammar mistakes, get over it. Just take it and agree or disagree. Do better next time.

Facts

The Earth isn't perfectly round, but it's not shaped like a pear either. The Wizard of Oz wasn't originally propaganda. Greensleeves aren't written for Anne Boleyn. These usually hurt less, but often can dissolve entire stories. This is why you should research. Make sure every single quote is true and truly attributed. This is because facts in your story you don't want that to pull out the reader at any point and you don't know who might be reading it.

Core story issues.

This or that character doesn't work. The intention and impact aren't the same. These are the ones that hurt the most. These are the ones in critiques one should be careful of the most. And the ones that are going to hurt you the most.

The problem is often sort story issues are also the hardest to divine and the hardest to fix.

Critiquer might have had a different emotion from your intention, so remember what I said about being able to reach into other people's writing and figure out their intentions and then work with that? Yeah, this is where it comes in handy to make your own writing better. Sometimes they point to a thing, but it's not that thing.

Say comments are,

this character is boring.

This character doesn't do much.

I think this character is lazy.

But you've written the character on a hot summer day where they are baking out of their mind.

How do you punch it up to make it better? Your KEY ideas on why they aren't moving are "Hot summer day." So punch that part up and give more specific details so people get it. So people get that it's so hot people can't move.

And when the person said the character is lazy, the commentary feels more like deprication rather than true laziness.

That's how you divine the comments. It's not well, this character needs to change the entire scene so it has more action. It's how do I do this scene better so it communicates more.

BTW, Botchan by Natsume Soseki is a masterclass in how to get your character into total inertia such that you actively hate them, but at the same time you understand them.

Tom would say something like, once you get the critiques what you do with them is up to you. Ignore them, take them, but realize that what you don't take is likely to show up as a critique later.

Seeee... both critiquing and receiving critiques makes you a better writer. I'd also argue, it makes you a better person, too.

Short anecdote.

I was on a board and this writer was complaining about this review she had which said that the clothing she had was "inaccurate" and she argued that it was an other world fantasy setting so she could do whatever she liked. And she wanted to know if she should reply and get revenge on the critiquer. A few people were comforting her and egging her on.

I pushed against it gently by asking for the specific critique lines pretty much repeating Tom's advice on how to take a critique. The critique isn't always right, you have to divine, etc.

She stated she loosely based the costumes on a particular century of clothing. So I looked it up for her. I pointed out that stays during that century had changed a lot over time and the underwear changed the outer clothing. So it was possible the person was objecting to the underwear and the outer clothing not matching. I named the pieces of underwear that had changed during that time period and pointed out there is a huge difference for us for 1990's clothes versus the next decade. And that previous eras were no different.

What she needed was someone to cold sort the comment, point out she needed to do research and point out that sometimes physics can't be explained away by an other world.

Don't argue with your critiquers. Also, stop encouraging people to do this???

She ended up deleting her entire post. If you can't take critiques. Get someone to cold sort your critiques for you.

Haha. I have an awesome self-nominated writer's assistant who refuses to be paid, even though I tried to pay her. She knows me sooo well, when she gives a critique and I'm in writer meltdown mode saying, but I could do this or do that. She says in a flat voice, "No, you're going to do this and this is why." I hide this from the public, but damn. You need people like this in your life too.

'cause as much as I'm going off on Tom's rules, I also occasionally fail them. I'm still trying to be as calm cool and collected as he appeared to be about this sort of thing.

How to Know you're getting review bombed.

The account is brand new

All of the review ratings are at extremes. No 3 star reviews.

All of the reviews are targeted.

None of them are specific about the book.

The hazards of making the writer the primary marketer such that they have to do the job of 3 people: Writer, Publicist, and Marketer. Separate your modes. Compartmentalization. Learn it. It can be healthy.

But really, go back up and read. The writer is always going to lose. The more you care about it, the more likely you're going to be review bombed. Fighting reviewers never does you any good.

Bonus Round

The person that you're worried is better than you is probably thinking the same thing about you.

In another words, it's not a battle against others.

In my Young Writer's Group, I deeply admired this guy's writing for his ideas, how he was able to cobble things together with this sort of balance. And I had this kind of feeling like I could never do what he did. I mean he had this kind of deeper detail I felt I was missing. Plus his ideas—fucking clever.

All the time he'd come up with the "obvious" idea that I wanted to be able to write. It's the kind of stuff that you go, OMG, of course.

Flat out envy on my side. And then one day, I heard him talking about how was I able to come up with so many ideas so quickly to other people in the group and that he deeply admired my ideas.

I was shocked. I thought it was one way the entire time. Of course, honor code, not typing up his name, and not typing up his ideas, but the spirit of it is this: You're in a battle against yourself. Your critiquers when you're honestly facing them, and not say, trying to get enough points to post your work, are truly helping you, but you critiquing them is also helping you.

There's still a few of his ideas I keep waiting for him to publish, so I can do spins on them. I still hope he's writing, because writing is a community effort.

Stop being intimidated by other writer's brilliance and find your own. You'll get there too. But damn, I still want to see at least two of his ideas make it onto screen/in a book. I keep looking for him. A few of my former critique partners got published. Dave, hello. And another one that too recognizable by first and last name.

If you can't take reviews, don't read them.

This comes from repeating Writing Excuses episodes–people have writer's assistants do it for them.

I had mine (self-nominated one) look up rare cat breeds... but yeah, some people have them do normal things.

Sometimes writers ask agents to filter them for them.

All you writers, stop stalking Goodreads and writing reviews about your stories/books. I know, but it's not going to do much anyway and the more you care, the more likely you're going to get review bombed or pull a Cait Corrain.

Remember, One Star reviews can be good actually

One star reviews tell you how to improve your product. The maker of Instapot in an interview said he oly reads one star reviews.

Also, sometimes one star reviews have told me that I absolutely want to buy the product in question.

If there are 10 reviews of 1 star by white reviewers saying that white writer wrote it better and it's about say, Chinese history. That says to me, I want to buy your book. I want to understand why they think it's substandard. I want to see what you did to break away from the common popular narrative.

If there are a ton of negative reviews on a product that says this item is too small but I have dinky hands and I want the product to be smaller, that's also useful to know.

One star reviews are not the end to the world. People don't go by purely star ratings. They also look at what the reviews say and how they say it and which people think that review is accurate.

One star review that says they don't know how a story about Jane Austen in Outer Space turned into a sex comedy with a tentacle squid monster? Please, please give me that book.

Stop hyper fixating on star ratings. People often will judge for themselves if it's for them or not. And you pushing back, force deleting the reviews giving that sort of guidance isn't going to help you. As Tom said, you're going to lose, so lose right.

#Sometimes the best teachers you don't realize are that until much later #writing advice #critique advice #damn it why cancer had to take my teacher before I could boast about my published story #I found out he died after I published my story #how to handle reviews

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nimuetheseawitch · 7 months

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John and Vala Rec List

I love John, I love Vala, and I think they'd be incredible friends, but there aren't a ton of fics about them. So here are some fic recs, posted with the author's summaries unless otherwise noted. Friendship fics are listed first, then slash fics.

Fics where John & Vala are the main focus:

Glad You're Here by Catalina_Leigh (1k, T, gen)

The SGC may not be Atlantis, but at least John has Vala, who loves movies and popcorn as much as he does. And she's happy to have him around.

The SGC Guide To Intergalactic Hookups: An Etiquette Manual by bomberqueen17 (12k, T, John/Rodney, Vala/Daniel)

Not the author's summary: this is part of a larger series, and is set during The Return. Additionally in this series, John and Vala meet in New Friends, he sends her a gift in Rotary Cutter, and she joins him and many others for Christmas in A House A Home.

Fics where John & Vala aren't the main focus:

G******, Pirates and Thieves* (series) by auburn (372k total, M/T, many ships, mostly John/Rodney

Author's summary from the first fic: Vala Mal Doran and her partners, renegades Jehan abd-Ba'al and Meredith McKay, hijack the Tau'ri ship Prometheus and leave the Milky Way behind in search of the Lost City of the Ancients, Atlantis.

No Good Deed by forestgreen (65k, M, John/Cam, Daniel/Jack)

John opened the closed record that Stargate Command had on him and skipped over its content: "Dr John Sheppard, Civilian Consultant to the U.S. Air Force, member of SG-1, PhD in Applied Mathematics and PhD in Computer Science, gifted mathematician with a penchant for stealing, trustworthy." A small, satisfied smirk crooked John's lips. He struck the last part out and added a correction in red: "Gifted thief with a penchant for mathematics, not to trust." He saved the document and erased all traces of his presence in the system. It'd take a while for McKay to figure out that John had found yet another weakness in the SGC network. He ordered pizza and waited for the rest of the SG-1 to arrive. It was Mitchell's turn to pick the movie.

Gray Skies (series) by bluflamingo (27k total, T/E/G, John/Cam)

Not the author's summary: Post-Vegas, John ends up on SG-5 with Cam, Cadman, and Vala.

John/Vala

Good Vibrations by nimuetheseawitch (3k, E, John/Vala)

Vala has discovered the sex toy stores of San Francisco while visiting Atlantis in the Bay and needs to try out all her new gear. John is willing to help. (shameless self-plug)

When There's Nothing Left to Burn by auburn (8k, M, John /Vala, Rodney/Vala)

Neither of them tend to think about the consequences.

Home is Where? by Lyl (2k, T, John/Vala)

The day he was finally assigned his own team, John read their service records and promptly decided to find the nearest bar and get drunk.

So Good to You by busaikko (6k, T, Vala/John, past John/Cam)

Rodney had extorted a promise from John to not get recruited into SG-1 while he was on temporary re-assignment to the SGC. As John finished reciting his marriage vows from the crib-sheet Mitchell had handed him, he suspected Rodney would never let him live this down.

A Wanted Distraction by esteefee (1k, M, John/Vala)

"I thought you were supposed to have magical powers or something," Vala said. "Can't you just think the door open like a good boy?" If she didn't stop squirming like that, John was going to—well, there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do, considering he couldn't move an inch or two in either direction.

Pretty Pickle by esteefee (6k, M, John/Vala)

Vala and John get up to some mischief in the Milky Way.

John/Vala/more

Blame the Apocalypse by estefee (5k, E, John/Sam/Vala)

They stuck to the coastline, because the zombies—infected humans—instinctively avoided the ocean, what with the way saltwater made them dissolve.

Three Days in the Valley by Anagrrl (5k, T, John/Vala/Cam)

Cam never thought he'd be here, out on the sand and scrub. His family had wanted a farm, to grow fields of dark green and golden yellow, the soft brush of leaves audible in the early morning, underneath the drone of insects. They'd tried for it, they really had, but here he is, on horseback, no fields in sight.

(AKA - Vala and Cam herd cattle western AU)

Play Time by bluflamingo (2k, E, John/Vala/Cam)

"This galaxy has John, and a machine that just transformed all three of us into sea otters," Cam corrected

Business or Pleasure? by NeoVenus22 (6k, E, John/Vala/Sam/Cam)

What happens in DC stays in DC.

Fill me like a song do by anonymous (2k, E, John/Vala/Cam/Daniel)

Before standing, she’d kicked her legs off of their perch and nudged John out of the way with the toe of her boot. Tonight, he had asked to be pushed around and manipulated like a piece of furniture and a sex toy, and Vala had started with him as her footstool while she had called Daniel and Cam. The sight of a shirtless and collared John on all fours was making Daniel’s mouth water.

*This title is censored due to the use of a common racial slur.

#sga #sg-1 #stargate #stargate atlantis #stargate sg-1 #john sheppard #vala mal doran #fic #rec list #john sheppard & vala mal doran #john sheppard x vala mal doran

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saunne · 6 months

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Writing - Reflection and Personal Analysis (Pt 2)

(or the actual plan of what the rest of my NaNo will look like)

I have two main problems at the moment : Lack of STRUCTURE and lack of STYLE. And a less important BRAIN problem.

STRUCTURE

The biggest blockage comes from my lack of planning and the fact that until then I was writing in semi-improvisation. I had an overall plot line to follow, but nothing very detailed.

Which is the heart of the problem.

Because since this isn't a fanfic, I need a lot more careful planning. Chapter by chapter, I need to know what the chapter should be about, who we meet there, who we follow, what information we learn, what scenes take place there, what their purpose is, what clues I should slip in, what false routes pose... I need a step by step manual, a complete checklist, with scene fragments and possibly color coding.

So from now on, this is what I'm going to do for NaNo, officially switching to the Rebel side. No novel writing for me this month, we will focus on the detailed planning of said novel, scene by scene, chapter by chapter.

Well, I say "novel", but it would be more correct to say story. In order not to get stuck by a rigid structure that I'm bad with, I'm just going to put aside the volume by volume structure and simply plan according to my narrative arcs, since I already have some of the planning written during last Camp.

I am more than capable of catching up if I switch to this method. I already have a good backup of information, and putting everything in order and detailing what I want to achieve will help me move forward faster than the blind writing I was doing until now.

STYLE

It’s obvious that I need to develop my novelistic style.

My fanfic style has developed over 4 years but I will not and cannot wait 4 years for my novelistic style to mature. Having a clear plan will already help me avoid going off track when writing, but I need to figure out how I'm going to manage.

Am I more comfortable with a more compact or airier style ? Do I favor very long sentences or short sentences? What is the rhythm of my writing ? Do I have writing tics, words that come back too often, turns of phrase reused in all sorts of ways? How do I deal with dialogue ? Descriptions of decor ? The emotional and reflective side of internal monologue ? How do I integrate the information in a fluid way, the flashbacks, the questions ?

I think the easiest thing would be to practice writing short scenes, or even short stories. This probably won't be something I do during this NaNo, barring sudden bursts of inspiration for Erasde that override my obsessive hyperfocus on my fandoms, but I won't rule out the possibility.

Another possibility could be to restart written role-playing with @gabrielwritessometimes . I have OCs in his world and he has some in mine, so this might be something interesting to do together, depending on everyone's available time and energy.

BRAIN

I can't really change my brain, so we're going to have to learn to overcompensate for the ongoing mess.

I already know that I need to be in a certain mood to write and that if I'm not, there's no point in forcing it. The frustration of not being able to write my fics also plays a big part, so alternating between NaNo and my WIPs according to my mood, energy level and inspiration rather than forcing myself to follow NaNo seems to be a good solution.

Certain places (my bed, the library, cafes, parks) work better for inspiration and concentration. So setting aside a little money to go and spend a few hours in a café at least once a week with one or two drinks and a pastry could be a good idea.

And my brain being a 5 year old with a sugar addiction, it seems that returning to a reward system based on candy and other sweets could alleviate the fluttering in my brain. Watch out for Mom and don't forget dental hygiene I guess.

POST NANO AND CAMP

I'll probably be busy in December, covering shifts at the library, but I plan to continue writing. After NaNo, I'm going to set a daily writing goal : no word limit, but write at least once a day, on any project or WIP.

I plan to submit my thesis and take my oral exam at the beginning of next year, at the earliest for the February holidays and at the latest at the beginning of April. Once my thesis is out of the way, I should be much more relaxed in terms of writing, which will undoubtedly help.

I plan to attend next year's Camp NaNo, both April and July.

If I haven't finished planning by April, this is what I will continue. If I finished it, I will slowly start writing the novel and continue writing during July Camp.

In order to reduce my anxiety, I will work chapter by chapter. That is to say, write a chapter, send it to my friends who wish to give me feedback, whether as readers or official beta-readers. Allow some time to pass, during which I work on other projects or another chapter, before rewriting the revised chapter.

I write primarily for myself, with no publication goals at present.

I don't yet know what I will do with my story once it is sufficiently advanced, if I will try to translate it myself into English to share it, if I will publish it on a platform like ao3 or Wattpad or Webnovel, if I'm going to send it to publishers hoping to get published, if I'm just going to keep it for myself and my group of friends... We'll see.

#writing process #writing analysis #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #erasde #nanowrimo #nano 2023 #nanowrimo 2023 #nano report

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justawfulxmenart · 1 year

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This is a "sneak peek" to my upcoming fic. In it, Scully's pregnancy symptoms make Mulder afraid that her cancer has come out of remission. I hope you enjoy…

Kinnikinnick Lake, Oregon, April 1, 2000

Hey, Scully! Supper's ready!" Mulder calls.

Scully heaves the ax to her shoulder. Perspiration stands out on her forehead. She feels that peculiar catch in her chest. She's been feeling it off and on for the past two weeks alongside sudden bouts of dizziness.

Anemia, was her knee-jerk prognosis. But the cause of it? Along with the nosebleed that woke her up three nights ago? It causes a pit of dread in her stomach.

But the petite redhead turns to put on a smile for her fiance. Mulder is waving to her from the door of their tiny cabin deep in the Oregon back-country. The blue Cascades are beautiful on this fresh Spring day. The air seems tangy and sharp with the first hint of the balmy weather to come. The aspens in the grove circling the cabin whisper intimately to one another with their new coats of silvery-green leaves.

Scully hefts the ax and brings it down on the chopping block. Mulder returns her smile. He teases her about her insistence on doing the wood-chopping chores. And she teases him right back, saying she can't grow too soft, letting him do all the manual labor around their new home. Their banter is in good fun, but Scully notices, with a pleased glow, how her biceps ripple under the sleeves of her t-shirt.

Mulder disappears inside the low door over which are, spanning almost six feet, the impressive antlers of a bull elk, a sort of "housewarming gift" to them from their adult daughter. As Scully passes the mudroom, pulling off her brogans, and enters the kitchen, she smells Abbey's latest kill roasting in the oven of the wood burning stove. Scully inhales deeply: pheasant…

Abbey has a family of her own now, but she never forgets her mom and dad. She's shown her aptitude as a huntress almost since she was a baby and her parents have never been short on fresh meat.

Scully feels a twinge of guilt. She doesn't want to take food from the many hungry mouths in Abbey's pack, but telling the girl to stop dragging game back to her mom and dad is like telling the sky not to rain. Secretly, Scully loves it. Especially now that she has an inexplicable craving for pheasant, something she only had a passing liking for before.

The woman's mouth waters at the tantalizing scent of the roasted bird. Mulder is a self-taught chef. It's a skill born and honed from necessity as a stay-at-home home dad with a demanding toddler with a voracious appetite. Cooking is something Mulder both loves doing and takes great pride in. And, although both of them are competitive with each other, Scully has never felt any rancor over her man being the better chef.

"I saw Old Eli at the hardware store," he says.

His back is turned to her as he stoops down to pull the bird from the oven. Mulder always seems to be stooping here - ducking to walk through the low doorways, struggling to accommodate his tall lanky frame to these rather cramped quarters. The cabin is exactly three rooms, with a privy and a cache out back. It has electricity run from a generator and a hand pump in the kitchen, but no flush toilet or central heating. But it was hard for Scully and Mulder to find a better place in this area on such short notice. Besides, during the past three years they've lived at far more inconvenient places.

"Yeah?" she replies. She's breathing heavily now and struggling not to let it show.

"Old coot said we're 'in for some weather,'" Mulder continues, still facing the oven.

Scully notices appreciatively how his shoulders bunch powerfully beneath his t-shirt, made damp from the heat of the woodstove. She isn't the only one being kept in shape by living rough.

"What does that even mean? Weather happens all the time!" he says. "Weather is happening now; look out the window!"

He turns to her. Mulder's hair is so long now Scully often teases him about his clean-cut style during their days in the FBI. His Grizzly Adams beard is now well past his clavicle. But his greyish-green eyes still spark with the same mischief she fell in love with all those years ago. Fox Mulder's charm is still intact - and his sarcasm too.

Then his grin vanishes as he sees her pale appearance. Shit, Scully curses herself as another fit of lightheadedness takes her. She can't hide it from her lover. She tries to grip the corner of the kitchen table for support, but the room sways and she stumbles sideways.

Her ears buzz loudly and black spots dance in front of her eyes. She, however, falls against Mulder's chest. She takes deep steadying breaths, drinking in the scents of woodsmoke and her partner's own distinctive smell clinging to his sweater. She takes comfort from it.

"...Need to quit that day-drinking, Scully," Mulder says as the buzzing in her ears subsides.

His joking, however, (Scully allows herself one glass of red wine per week) belies the worry shining in his eyes. His forehead furrows into lines as he tucks her sleek auburn head under his chin.

Scully finds herself up in his arms. It half-annoys her how easily he can lift her. Now, though there are few things she can stand less than Mulder fussing over her, she feels so drained she hardly cares.

She's been feeling this way more and more - fatigued, long before her day is through, her eyelids fighting sleep, her limbs almost as useless as sticks, her feet struggling to put one in front of the other. At six o'clock in the evening, all she wants to do is sleep. Sleep until her alarm clock goes off at five-thirty. And then she's practically propping her eyes open to stay awake.

Scully feels herself sinking down onto a soft nest of cushions by the fireplace.

"Tell me what's going on," Mulder murmurs as he gently lays her down.

Mulder picks stray locks of fiery hair out of her face. His eyes, as wide, gentle and dark as a collie's, search her face. They are trusting eyes. For all his bluster as a young cocky FBI agent, Scully almost immediately discerned his true gentle nature when she, a headstrong young doctor herself, walked into his basement office seven years ago.

The woman sees plainly the undercurrent of fear in his soft gaze.

"I'm fine," she says.

She hates how raspy, weak and unconvincing her voice sounds. The sounds around her still seem muffled and muted.

"I'm just tired," she adds and gives him one of her quick reassuring smiles.

He nods slowly, but his eyes never leave her face. Scully has known this man in many ways - as a partner, as a friend, as a lover. Three years ago, he agreed to co-parent a child with her, no questions asked. And when she got down on her knees a month ago and asked him to be her husband, his agreement was swift and enthusiastic.

Scully knows there is no fooling him.

A wave of utter exhaustion overtakes her, so great she can barely focus her eyes on his face. Mulder covers her with a heavy quilt. Then he curls his big warm body around her. Her small ass fits as perfectly against the curve of his crotch as a little spoon fits into a larger one. His great sinewy arms wrap around her tiny form. They'd been made strong by the demanding exercise during his years in the FBI. Now their rusticated lifestyle kept them fit and toned.

Perhaps on the surface Scully loathes his fussing, but when she's this exhausted, it's wonderful to feel his body against hers. She turns her head to press it against his chest. His big loving heart beats steadily and strong against her skull. Her last sensation is the warm dry brush of his lips against her cheek…

***

She's trying to hide it from him. But Mulder hears her coughing fits during the wee hours of the morning; he sees the specks of blood on her pillowcase when he goes to change the bedding. And now there's Scully's sudden faintness, her spells of fatigue that take her so suddenly.

She says she's tired … but Scully never gets tired.

She seems to have an inexhaustible amount of energy. In their years as FBI agents, during the three chaotic years of raising their daughter, in times of privation and hardship while they were on the run, Scully served as a protector, a provider, a beacon of strength Mulder rallied around.

Mulder watches her sleep curled in his arms like a cat. Her mussed hair is longer now than it's ever been since he's known her. He secretly loves the kinky curliness of it, the way it spreads across his chest like a red blanket. Scully's mouth hangs slightly open the way it always does when she's fast asleep. With a smile, he sees that she's drooling a little.

She's such a strong, powerful woman. With her alabaster skin, proud curving nose and wide flashing blue eyes, Mulder thinks she has an almost otherworldly goddess-like quality of beauty.

She's always been fighting, fighting for the victims she's advocated for, fighting against the injustice of evil men, fighting for survival itself - survival for her man, her daughter and herself.

It's in moments like these, however, when he realizes just how light she feels in his arms, how delicate and birdlike her bones are. He knows in these quietly terrifying moments how fragile her life truly is. How she could be taken from him in a flash, in just a moment.

Since that horrible fall of 1997, that fear of losing her forever has haunted Mulder. And he hasn't since then, not even for a second, taken his beautiful woman for granted.

That awful time, during the better part of 1997, she acted in the same way she does now: inexplicable coughing, nosebleeds, sudden crushing exhaustion. He'd even awoken in the inky darkness of 2 a.m. this morning to hear her retching as quietly as she could.

Mulder had feigned sleep as she vomited. As he lay there in their bed, the blackness pressing against his eyeballs, Mulder instinctively felt as Scully did … It was as if he and her relied on the same superstition. If they didn't draw attention to her abrupt change in behavior, then they could deny the crippling fear in both their hearts.

This was how it was when Scully was diagnosed with brain cancer four years ago. And Fox Mulder is terrified that his very greatest fear is coming true … that her cancer has come out of remission.

#msr #txf #fox mulder #dana scully #the x files #mulder and scully

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phantombanquet · 1 year

Text

SSR Fairy Gear Ortho Personal Card Story “The Best Evolution” Part 2

Gymnasium

???: Excuse me. May I have a word?

Deuce, Ace: This voice is.....

Dorm Leader Rosehearts! / Dorm Leader Riddle!

Ace: What's wrong? Ah, did you come to check on us because you were worried~?

Riddle: Mhm. You guys didn't return when it was time for dinner, so I brought some food.

Ace: Eh, seriously!? Thaaanks~!! As expected of Dorm Leader Riddle, you're really thoughtful~

Riddle: Really, you truly have an unpredictable personality, don't you?

Grim: Nnyah?! I smell food! Is it from the basket that Riddle brought? What's inside!?

Hmm... Open sandwiches, boiled eggs, cheese tarts, and fruits..! Not bad!

Epel: Grim-kun, you suddenly became energetic! Even though you were just sleeping on your stomach~!

Grim: Stop it, Epel! Don't grab me by the neck!

Jack: Sorry for the noise, Riddle-senpai. And, thank you for going through all this trouble.

Sebek: .....

Riddle: ...Oh? Did Sebek come to help as well?

Sebek: ...Yes. I... heard from Silver that they were having some trouble, so I came here to scold them.

Ortho: Afterwards, he came up with lots of brilliant ideas, and assisted in working on several things, too!

Riddle: Fufu, that's a good attitude.

A lot more people gathered than I expected... It was a good decision to bring a lot of food. This way, everyone will be able to have a share.

It's good to take a break while eating.

Ace: Yes! Thank you so muchhhhh!!!!

Ortho: .....

(So it's true... I did a simple vital scan and everyone's parasympathetic nerves¹ are dominant.)

(I guess everyone wanted to take a break, huh. I didn't even pay attention to mental and physical fatigue.)

Epel: Hey, come here and join us, too, Ortho-kun!

Ortho: Don't worry about me. Since I'm a humanoid, it's not necessary for me to have a meal.

There hasn't been any confirmed load that might cause a delay in the processing ability of the gear's data.

But I'll work ahead on a few things while everyone takes a break.

Epel: I see... But take it easy..

Ortho: Fufu, I'll be alright! Thank you, Epel Felmier-san.

Riddle: ......

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Grim: This cheese tart is delicious! I'll go take the leftovers!

(Option 1) Yuu: Grim was just asleep, right?

Grim: No, I ain't! I was even walking on the runway with style!

(Option 2) Yuu: Let's give it to the person who worked the hardest.

Sebek: You understand, human. This means that this tart belongs to me, who used both brain and body.

Jack: Aside from practicing for the show, I even came here to help the others' work... I'm real hungrier than usual.

And even if I'm not used to wearing heels, they point at my posture and tell me to walk gracefully...

Riddle: Ah, there is a trick in order to walk beautifully in high heels. However, it would be difficult to learn it in a short period of time.

But from what I have seen from your performance earlier, it looked better than before. You seem to be doing a great job.

Ace: If you're talking about working hard, I was the one who gathered everyone here today.

Well, I guess some came here on their own.

Deuce: Oi, don't take all the credit for yourself! We're all working together to manage this situation.

Epel: I agree. But I think the one working the hardest right now is...

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Ortho: Hmm, I wonder if I should review the tracking performance of the drone...

I'll also adjust the “automatic video generation”. Then, after that.....

???: Can I speak with you?

Ortho: Riddle Rosehearts-san! Is something wrong?

Riddle: Ace and the others said that you are the one who handles most of the equipment for the show.

There's a number of equipment. I would have probably spent the whole night just by reading the operation manual.

Your abilities are outstanding.

Ortho: Fufu, I'm glad with the compliment, but this is not that much.

If we had more time to prepare, we could not only create an illusion in the Botanical Garden, but also in the entire school.

Riddle: The entire school? Really? That's amazing... I can't even imagine that at all.

Ortho: When you say it like that, it makes me want to show off more~

It's a bit difficult right now, but... I'll make an illusion that will definitely surprise you, Riddle-san, so please look forward to it.

Riddle: Well, I am already amazed enough.

All the first year students gathered here spoke highly about your abilities.

Ortho: Ace and the others did?

Riddle: Yes. And not only do you have the ability, but... This time, you're the one putting in the most effort.

Ortho: I see, everyone is thinking about me.

Well, it's natural that I'll do my best. After all, this is a big deal to the school.

The current condition of Ignihyde is like a sauna, and the current HP bar of Nii-san and the other dorm students is at the red gauge.

I'm assuming the other dormitories have their hands full dealing with troubles as well?

Riddle: You're correct... In our dormitory, we take turns watching over the roses to make sure they don't wither, and the animals don't get sick.

Ortho: If I solve this problem, I'll be, like, the hero of the school!

And Vil Schoenheit-san thinks that there is no one else with more “evolution” other than me...

I'll always get excited whenever I'm asked to do something!

Riddle: Even though Ace and Jack were nominated by their dorm leaders, they were still reluctant at first... You're admirable.

Ortho: ...Because

...It was my first time.

Riddle: Eh?

TO BE CONTINUED...

¹ parasympathetic nervous system is a network of nerves that relaxes your body after a period of stress or danger. ortho basically scanned their parasympathetic nerves and realized that they became prominent after taking a break.

#twisted wonderland #twst translation #fairy gala if #ortho shroud #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #riddle rosehearts #twst grim #twst yuu #phantombanquet #phantombanquet twst

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fruti2flutie · 2 years

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pls do tell more about pacrim au, royalty au, volleyball au!! ( the way my brain defaulted to haikyuu bc that was my last obsession before kpop ( read: skz ) pulled me back ).

ALSO BC PACRIM AU WHEN CHAN WAS TALKING ABOUT watching edits in puppy interview about how synchronized they are my brain too was like pacrim… drift compatible…

welcome to the Likely Never Going to Write in Full Idea Bank (SKZ edition) by ao3 user fruti2flutie!!! here goes:

pacrim au (ot8, established minsung, past chanlix)

chan-centric!!! i was also inspired by those in-sync ot8 vids, and then more sadly by the daebak show ep where chan said he got real dark during his trainee years bc everyone was leaving him :( the background: chan gave up piloting bc he lost his closest companion during a mission, coupled with never properly coping while his friends dropping out of the training program as well. after the accident he wasn't drift compatible with anyone & his heart was heavier than every mech in the hangar. he returned to his hometown, quietly followed news of kaiju, prayed for every fallen pilot as he stayed in retirement. the story: he gets a visit from high school sweetheart felix who has enlisted in the pilot program & wants chan to accompany him to the training grounds. chan never stopped loving him but had bigger things to worry about: the kaiju, saving the world, etc. felix tells him he doesn't have to join the program again, but he knows chan loves humanity & can't stay away from a jaegar. chan, against his better judgment, follows felix & becomes a mechanic. some ppl remember him but most don't; it's been too long, almost a decade. so he goes about his things, meets other aspiring pilots in felix's program: seungmin, jeongin, and hyunjin; gets along well with changbin, another mechanic. but then the revered soulmate pilots have an incident, putting minho in an incapacited state while the next kaiju attack approaches. being the only person with experience in a jaegar it forces chan to attempt drifting with han jisung, someone he barely even knows. and when it works -- holy shit, what does that mean for chan? eventually this leads to skz finding out ot8 is drift compatible BUT YEAHHHHHhhhhhhh

royalty au (seungbin, minor hyunsung)

the princess & the pauper/secret identity inspired fic bc this is my DREAM!!!! MY DREAM AU I WILL NEVER WRITE!!! prince changbin just coasts along life cuz his first princess sister is going to take over the kingdom. he sneaks out of the castle one day avoiding punishment from minho, his guard, and encounters a bookstore owner's son. it's a meet-messy, where changbin ruins a shipment of books & seungmin wants to bring him to court for it. flustered, changbin lies & says he's a tradesman's son, but he can work off what he owes for however long seungmin needs. seungmin doesn't trust him, but the store could use help with manual labor; seungmin is a twig. they grow closer along the way, and eventually there's a ball hosted at the castle that seungmin shows interest in, which is where he ultimately discovers changbin's true identity. chan is seungmin's childhood friend who works as a royal guard & jisung is currently seungmin's bff who sells produce from his parents' farm. hyunjin is an artisan's apprentice, felix is in the king's kitchen, and jeongin is a maid's son & patters around breaking things in the castle. i've never written a long fic in this type of AU but seriously would love to some day :(

volleyball au (minchan, minor seungbin)

I LOVE VOLLEYBALL!! I LOVE HAIKYUU I LOVE!!! AHHHHHHHH this would be a high school au where chan's the vball team captain in his last year of high school. the team itself is extremely unpopular & only has seven players. he wants his team to win something before he graduates; these are his boys, and he wants them to remember him before he goes off to his Non-Volleyball future. enter: ambidextrous transfer student lee minho, who doesn't give a fuck about team competition but thinks chan's dream is kinda cute. the boys lack discipline, but they can put in the work to reach success. also, seungmin is the team's setter, changbin is the libero, and they're secretly dating bc they don't wanna mess up team dynamics even tho they mess them up anyway bc seungmin overly nitpicks on how changbin passes him the ball when they have lovers quarrels 😳 i've strayed away from hs au but the potential of an ambidextrous vball player........ lives in my brain.............

#anon #reply #idea brain #these thoughts were treats for myself bc i made it to 40k on prostitution au orz #currently trudging thru ch4 & ch5 aka the most difficult scenes in the story 🥲#i gotta make it to eight!! i do not wanna give up!!!!!!!!!#IF i say IF i ever attempt to write these it would be royalty au cuz i already have an ending vv #but i am constantly thinking abt vball au. Constantly

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crimsonmoonlite · 5 months

Text

Beaufort Swan - Twilight - 18+ Omegaverse - 1. No Air

October 3rd, 2022 8:43 AM, Friday "Beau! Beau?" As he ran into the hospital, Charlie shouted, "Beau!" he panicked. He didn't know what was happening in town. All they had heard was an accident at school, and Beau's truck was totaled. It was so safe two months ago.

"Officer Swan?" Edward poked his head out of the waiting room. Charlie had never met the Cullen Boy in person. He had heard respectful comments from all his friends, but then Beau would rant about him during dinner. "It's okay. He is safe and back with my father... I will explain everything."

------- 7:50 AM, Friday Both Beau and Charlie were not having a good morning. Beau fixed them breakfast while Charlie came home before he went to school. At 3:03 AM, Charlie was called into the station to process a robber and investigate a bear attack in La Push.

Charlie saw no point in napping because he would have to return to work in an hour. It was a good thing he returned because Beau's truck wasn't starting. It turned back on after popping up the hood and pulling and pushing a few random things. Charlie knew as much about vehicles as Beau.

"I am just going to use some of my college funds to take it into the shop," Beau said, a little disappointed, glaring at the old truck, almost threatening it not to shut back down.

"No, Sweetie, I don't want you to use any of your money," Charlie sighed, wiping his hair out of his eyes.

"Charlie, I don't think we have much of another choice... I can't ask you to drive me every time I need something. You have an important job."

"I know, Kiddo... why don't you take it to La Push? Do you remember where Billy lives?" Charlie asked, and Beau shook his head. "I'll tell you what. I will take you there after school. It would be best if you headed over there two before you are late," Charlie hugged his son. "Jake and his buddy work at a shop during the summers," Charlie explained when he saw Beau was confused about La Push.

"Just text me his number, and I'll see if he can help," Beau said, and Charlie shook his head.

"If you are going out there, I want to ensure you get there safe. There have been many bear attacks out there,"

Beau quickly got dressed in some dry clothes before driving to school. He had to be careful because there had been a lot of rain recently, and he didn't want to skid in the puddles. There were few students in the parking lot, Edward leaning on his sister's McLaren.

His sisters were talking to him, but Edward wasn't paying attention. He watched Beau pull into the parking lot. Beau ignored him and rolled his eyes when he passed him.

Edward was so hot and cold. They could have had a better first impression. He acted like Beau smelled like garbage and then ghosted for a week. He talked to him like he was his best friend when he returned. Now Beau was some celebrity in school because the Cullens acknowledged that he existed. He pulled his hood over his head and hopped out of his truck.

He glanced over to Edward a couple of hundred feet away from him before quickly averting his eyes since their eyes met. He was the only student in Forks with a truck made before 2010. His 1960s Chevrolet didn't have a key fob or anything. He had to lock the doors manually, then put a steak behind his tires because his parking breaks didn't work.

The first thing he heard was Tyler's loud truck pulling into the parking lot. Beau always cringed when he heard Tyler pull in because of the sound, but this was the first time he didn't flinch when he should have. The next thing he heard was a girl screaming, and that's when Beau snapped his head to look in that direction.

Tyler had been warned many times to slow down on the highway, many more times when he pulled into the school. He slammed his brakes when he saw the principal frowning at him, hydro planning at 40 MPH. The vehicle was a couple of feet away and barreling toward Beau. All the boy could do was widen his eyes and freeze.

Everything that happened almost felt like it was in slow motion, but the next event happened so fast. Beau saw Edward at the McLaren in the corner of his eye, but he felt the wind being knocked from him as he shifted from the door of his truck to the front tire.

Beau hissed in pain as his back rammed into the truck. he was on the floor now, and the velocity of his trying to catch himself had injured his right arm. Beau fluttered his eyes up to look at Edward. His intense amber eyes were concerned and confused.

"Are you okay?" he asked. That's when chaos finally broke out as everything processed through their fellow student's eyes. Beau knit his eyebrows together, unsure how Edward had gotten there so fast. He looked forward to seeing that he had his arm extended to stop the truck from hitting Beau. The truck had a nasty dent from the crash, yet Edward was fine.

Please Vote, Comment, Add to your lists, and share this story with a friend:).

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 9 months

Text

8.13.23

8:31 am

As early as 7am Uncle Jun went out already going to forest of Georgia & Betsilog'z gang ( always wearing a plastic coats???). Always had have their celebration parties for 16 years... I hate being a supporter. I mean I'm a good friend but too much of being a supporter is killing me angels unfairly....My biological mother always wanted me to be a supporter.

In the Nutshell:

I'm a good samaritan but of course I have to lift myself as well... I'm also a good friend angels. I know how a good relationship will flow either on friendship and on having a relationship like bf-gf or gf-gf thingy... There is always a "give and take flow"...

In the case of my biological mother and her group ( coz I didn't grow-up with her or with them since I was 13 )....I have half-sister's and half-brother on her side ( who are mostly undergraduates) meaning they bumped my college diploma and ego... I'm not sure if it is accidental or intentional.

Other issues:

I rested for almost 2 days now but still our electric is dead! Not good... Coz supposed to be coach John wanted us to have our class training today that I said oh! Coach I hope it will be our rest day ( coz I'm fucking tired! This entire week! My comic strip over my head). Then it was good thing Coach Melai is pregnant so meaning she badly needs an off this weekends. I did my laundry yesterday ( manual with gloves) no electric and if there is we can't open the washing machine like our ac coz of our financial tight budgeting.

My sponsorship is still coming from a friend, that's why I badly need to keep this job angels. Still, no food money here that Uncle DD told me that he is still waiting for the money from Japan that my "adoptive parent's" are also having financial tight budgeting.

This Neko I took her as my own dog but this is a dog of Uncle DD. I know the word respect and I know to give it angels, if someone deserves it...

A recap of everything, I got my 2nd husky it was brought by my Uncle DD and Aunt Karen here coz I used to have one during my broken-hearted days and I love huskies so much... I considered huskies as my stuff toy and my baby now.

So, it is just a returned of thanking them for my baby John but as time goes by, as I observed I became a dog lover and I'm beginning to like Neko the rottweiler coz we can all sleep at night without worrying coz Neko- the biter will look after us... The reason why I also starting to like rottweilers now... I now love Neko, so much... John will always be the favorite one... Lalah the aspin is a good dog as well...

In the Nutshell:

How can I have a relationship now? I have dogs to feed now... I love dogs and more dogs... Plus, I love collagens and serums.... Will they take me as me??? Many things to consider...

You know what angels, I'm so fucking happy with my dogs... I will be happy working, I will be happy having friends and super happy with my dogs.

10:56 am

The worst chicharon I have ever tasted ( have tasted --present perfect tense) angels, " Jennie's Chicharon"... Argh! Bad taste... It something weird...

It was given by Uncle DD and Aunt Karen... In fairness the best chicharon is from ilocos!

6:14 pm

I'm having costochondritis ( chest pain due to worrying ) my friend Ely is not on stable stage these days... He gave me assistance just for 3 days and I still need couple of days to go... Hmm.....

I need an another friend again to assist me on money... God help me....

I have credit on the store some canned goods... God help me...

I still need to pay the drug store...God help me...

7:58 pm

Uncle DD didn't give food assistance for 4 days already....It seems so strange..

In the Nutshell:

I don't wanna have a future like this with someone... I mean I need to have a stability in life before giving an another life,if ever... I'm not happy and I'm not contented being like this and I'm not proud angels... I have sanity and maturity...

It is ohkay to be sponsored by a friend but ideally it should be coming from your own family but the saddest thing we all have our own downfall, angels...

But given a chance to be a sponsor of someone, in the future? I will do it as well to a friend coz it is a religious act to help a friend.

Other issues:

I need lotions and serums Uncle DD couldn't give me assistance...

This job? I badly need this angels for me to have my own money and to buy Starbucks and to display myself in Starbucks. It is a self-fulfillment to gain friends and to have my xfactor back and to be me and to let myself out... I feel so fat,ugly and old angels... I'm still thinking of my "deep smile lines"...

I need to get a job, I'm dying to have my xfactor back and to gain many2x friends and to mingle with good friends... I miss hanging-out, I miss going out... I miss attention in a good way...

Yeah! I feel worried that I always feel that I need a back-up in Iqor now...

I already have white hair angels and I feel like an old grandma these days... That I never reach my peak in life as an individual... I feel self-pity...

I have so many dreams that I wanted to do like a joining a dog show and winning... Getting some foot spa and collagen even down there... Scrubbing my butt to feel sexy again... A lot of things to worry everyday...

8:29 pm

I'm wondering if "Pards Canteen" is owned by Uncle DD and Aunt Karen??? I was thinking... Nearby or in-front of SM...

I heard Aunt Karen calling Uncle DD as Pards, Pards... Hoping to get a free food or free meal from them...Hmm...Hmm....

9pm

One of my favorites in the classroom is Melinda Go, the virgin and spoiled still... Actually,it is good to know that his father gave him a house as a gift for finishing her college degree... I just suddenly remember now... I just wanna share it here... I love middle-class people and I appreciate people along the way of my journey most specially in Iqor. I love middle-class parent's and upper...

If I'm gonna be a parent someday, I wanna have a good mentality and upper view about life...

In the Nutshell:

I don't like men who are having a low point of view that they hate spoiled... I'm avoiding those...

Of course being a spoiled means bless but there is a point that they need awakening or maturity on some point in life for them to be fully adult...

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rosethornewrites · 2 years

Text

Friday-Monday NR, E, & M reading

The usual

Finished

Not Rated:

But to be loved like a song you remember Even when you've changed, by enbysaurus_rex (7 chapters)

The manual was long, but it all boiled down to the same thing-- assess, capture, banish, assess, repeat. Keep the affected area to a minimum. Be proactive in protecting any device that can access the internet. Physical storage areas with names had to be up to standard (file boxes were allowed, so long as the lid was reinforced and could stand up to the particular talisman used), but anything else usually required paperwork and approval, even if it was retroactive. Wangji hoped everything was in file boxes this time, even though he knew it was in vain. None of his storage solutions had ever been declined, but it was a tremendous amount of paperwork, picture taking, and documentation for what was usually a relatively small collection. In this case, it was less likely to be true, and the documentation was likely to be equal to the names warded and sealed. He appreciated that.

FORMERLY HIDE AND GHOST SEEK

Explicit:

a new kind of heat, by thelastdboy

“A beautiful canvas,” Lan Wangji stated and looked at him satisfied and now that he had said it, Wei Wuxian felt a little like it too. Leaned back as he was, his chest indeed seemed as though it was an empty canvas just begging to be painted. Lan Wangji reached out reverently and brushed his fingers over Wei Wuxian’s nipples, teasing him and watching keenly as they hardened.

Wei Wuxian felt the anticipation rise further, even more so when Lan Wangji stepped away from the bed and returned a moment later with a small, burning candle.

Late Bloomer, by Deastar (5th in a series)

“Well!” Wei Wuxian exclaims with deliberate cheer, clapping his hands together once. “This is terrible! But it could be much worse. You could be stuck here going into heat all alone!”

“I would prefer that,” Lan Zhan says, flat.

“You say that…” He wags an admonishing finger at Lan Zhan. “But it’s actually your very, very great good fortune to be stuck here in this cave with me specifically, because I am an expert at having your heat in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, and no supplies.”

Mature:

end, begin (and the spaces in between), by aureations

a story told in vignettes across the years, in the places you do not see

Amongst the chaos, stands a figure - it’s a different body, a stranger's body but Wangji has not been searching for a body for all these years.

floodplain (silt), by astronicht

Wei Ying’s neck is twinged because he fell asleep on the sofa watching celebrity dance-offs. His left wrist is twinged because two days ago he tracked down a daolao gui in the underground metro. They throw off venomous darts, and Wei Ying caught one between the two bones of his forearm. Radius and ulna.

(Or, "I need you to come and get me")

Unfinished

Not Rated:

The Untamed: To Walk in One's Shoes, by YenGirl

It turns out that that old adage of 'To walk a mile in someone's shoes' proves to be the most effective way for three siblings to understand one another. Too bad there's a wedding involved.

The Oubliette, by Ruixx

Wei Wuxian never thought being a spouse could be a valid career path. Now married to to the mysterious, quiet Second Jade of Lan he has to learn to navigate through the notoriously strict Gusu Lan clan and make himself home. Unfortunately war looms on the horizon and his enigma of a husband doesn’t seem to have much of a plan other than screwing him senseless. He’s not complaining, really.

What change can a question make?, by Sherry_T

" Wei-xiong you really love your sword and you are so strong, I can't believe it that you of all people abandon it , did something happen to your core " he asked sheepishly

Blood drained from Wei Wuxian's face while the other sect leaders

frowned ;thinking , it's Jiang Cheng who confronted him

" Wei Wuxian tell me what happened? " He almost screamed with anger , how dare his brother hide something like that from him

AKA

What happens when a scheming Nie Huaisang asked Wei Wuxian about his lack of sword infront of all sect leaders present in the meeting

You took my face in both your hands, and looked me in the eye, by enbysaurus_rex (2nd in a series)

The follow up to "But to be loved like a song you remember, Even when you've changed" in which we watch them fumble their way around the logistics of building a new domesticity while they solve this case

Explicit:

Imbalance, by blueingaround

In hindsight, Wei Wuxian should probably have known something like this would happen. But he was the first person to really invest so much in demonic cultivation and the only way to find out more about how things worked was to simply try them out. The thing about having to deal with ghosts and often harvesting their anger for power is that you can’t really choose which ones are the best fit, especially when you’re desperate and need all the help you can get.

aka Wei Wuxian has an imbalance of yin energy and can't deal with it on his own bc he doesn't have a golden core anymore, he needs to dual cultivate with someone, but in the middle of a war, he has no time and trusts no one, things escalate from there

blur the gracious moon, by FullmetalChords

He’d once thought that Lan Wangji was his zhiji, someone who fully and completely understood the depths of his heart, who could love every crack and dent in it…

And look where that mistake had left Wei Wuxian. Bound, drained, and abandoned in a part of Jinlintai that has never seen the sun.

—

Wei Wuxian is taken prisoner after liberating the Wen labor camp. Brought to the Cloud Recesses to serve his penance, is it possible for him to find his way back to the light?

(“Come back to Gusu with me,” but messier.)

Contains trans!WWX and eventual mpreg.

Safely hidden in Gusu, by Aleaneah

Lan Wangji had just finished his three years of seclusion.

However, that doesn't mean he had finished his mourning and grieving.

How could it be otherwise, when his heart is dead ?

Then...

One day, a friend(?) come to him, scheming behind his fan.

And his world regain a little of its colors.

Discarded, by teawater

Children in Cloud Recesses are succubming to a dark curse. There's one person who may be able to help.

Mature:

(Un)Hidden truth, by Sarah_R

After watching his husband; his son; nephew; brother and little radishes dying in front of him one by one because of a source of resentful energy; Wei WuXian dies too as he destroys it.

But instead of darkness; he finds himself back in the past when he had just gotten kicked out of the cloud recess and everything looks so peaceful he can’t stand it. No…no no no he really can’t go through this hell again. Not again. Not after everything was supposed to be over.

Not knowing that Lan WangJi has been thrown back in time as well; he tries; and fails at taking his own life by slitting his throat open in the middle of lotus pier and so; he decides to show everyone the future.

If he’s going to live this hell again; he’s going to change it and if these people are suddenly so determined to keep him alive; then he’s not going to let them die either.

It doesn’t matter if they end up hating him just as much as he hates himself.

(Or; another time travel fix-it which happens to be a watching the show fic as well! With our favorite baby boy and his husband; all their ducklings and their very much alive family and friends from the past.)

Get it right (this time), by AmiraAlzilu

Death would be a fate too kind for Wei Wuxian. He should pay for every sin he committed.

At least that’s the only explanation he has for this impossible situation. After falling from the cliff he woke up in his 15 year old body, just before his months of study at Cloud Recesses.

So, thinking it was for the best, he decides to disappear when he was supposed to be searching for their lost invitation.

Little does he know someone else came back in time with him.

An Almost Lan, by shinigami2174

Becoming a widow a couple of weeks shy of her fortieth birthday had never been Yu Ziyuan's plan. It had been so unexpected that she had yet to process that her life and her children's lives had changed for good. Little she knew how their lives would be changed for good.

Madam Yu became a widow, in charge of three young children. Their inheritance is in danger and Jin Guangshan wants to take advantage of the situation. Her best friend presented her with a solution, she needs to get married again with the right candidate. She even found the right candidate for Madam Yu but he doesn't come alone, he is in charge of children too.

Madam Yu marries Lan Qiren and the Lans, the Jiangs and Wei Ying grow up together as siblings.

This is a WangXian story, don't be fooled by the summary ( I suck at them!).

The Crow and his Stray Cat, by Moon_Rabbit_Fish

Xue Chengmei and Mo Xuanyu, as second and third disciples of Yiling Wei are sent to deal with a threat that has been terrorizing people in Jiang Cheng's territory.

Head and the heart, by Janelle24601

(This story moves away at some point from the canon story)

Lan Zhan loses his memories after an accident at fighting the Wen’s at Nightless City. He can’t remember the last few years. The war, being indoctrinated and humiliated by Wen Chao, and most importantly for his brother and Uncle he can’t imagine ever meeting Wei Ying. Lan Zhan never fell in love with the most unsuitable cultivator possible, he can now live a life more suitable for his station without being dragged down by the YiLing Patriarch. It seems too good to be true. Maybe it is! Meanwhile without the balance of the Lan's the cultivation world has been aiming their hatred at both Wei Ying and the Jiang Sect, forcing Wei Ying to make some hard choices. By the time the Lan's and the cultivation world need Wei Ying's help once again will all this time apart without Lan Zhan’s guidance and support mean the new Wei Ying still feel anything for Lan Zhan?

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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sgt-seabass · 2 years

Note

I'm fantasizing about Dark!Steve and or Dark!Bucky bring obsessed with a married woman at SHIELD, but when she unexpectedly loses her husband they decide that they waited long enough.

𝒎𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏

pairings — dark!steve x reader x dark!bucky w/c — 4.2k This is a dark fic. 18+ only.

warnings — dark!fic, non-major character death, details of depression and grief, stalking, obsession, dubcon (due to emotional state and gaslighting), unprotected threesome (dp boiiiiiii). a/n — sorry this took me so long to get to, anon. this idea unlocked something in me and i kind of went feral with it hehe. thank you so fucking much to @suchababie for beta-ing this for me. you’re amazing.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream Make her the cutest that I've ever seen Give her two lips like roses and clover And tell her that her lonely nights are over Sandman, I'm so alone Don't have nobody to call my own Please turn on your magic beam Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream ↳ Mr Sandman, SYML

Life was good. Before everything changed.

You met your husband, SHIELD agent Jack Higgins, not long after starting as an assistant secretary for the Avengers. He was sweet and kind, the type to bring you home your favourite flowers every week with a bottle of wine. His touch was as gentle as his personality, always making you feel good as he took you apart with his fingers before he would indulge himself in your warm heat, lovingly embracing his cock with your tight walls.

Your husband was often sent away on lengthy missions with the other Avengers, but luckily whenever Jack was gone, and they were around, Bucky and Steve would keep you company.

As you were in charge of the Avenger's schedule, you often had to teach the two oldies how to access their schedule and emails on their phones and tablets. You could have sworn you'd taught them thousands of times at this point, but while you were missing your husband, you couldn't complain about the companionship and company.

"Sorry doll, I guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks," Bucky said, a light chuckle leaving his lips as you tried to show him how to access his meeting invitations on his schedule.

"One of these days I'm going to have to write you an instruction manual, Bucky." The lightness between you two made the ache in your heart from missing your husband just a little bit lighter.

At your words, there was something in his eyes that changed, the twinkle of excitement going a little darker as his pupils dilated and tone left no room for argument. "No, you know I wouldn't understand it. I need you."

A part of you felt the need to hide as if you were naked before him. You tried not to think anything of it when his gaze flicked down to your diamond wedding ring and back to your face.

He was lonely. You knew Bucky didn't have many friends. You pitied him, so you couldn't help but give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, he was always caring, bringing you coffees and sweet treats after long days where your feet were aching in your kitten heels.

All the pieces were falling into place. In the weeks before Jack’s mission to Russia with Bucky and Steve, you both had decided it was finally time to start trying for children. Then everything would feel complete. So, both of you decided that you would get on an ovulation schedule and try to conceive within the coming months when he got back.

When you kissed him goodbye at the foot of the Quinjet, your heart was leaping in excitement for his return so the next stage of your life could begin.

But Jack Higgins never returned from Russia.

He died in a Hydra base two days into the mission, blood spilled against the freezing concrete like many others before.

You would never forget the expression on Natasha's face when she came to your desk to take you to a private meeting room. She was the palest you'd ever seen her, thoroughly wrought with bubbling grief as she told you. Your husband had died in the line of duty.

The world stopped that day, the axis stopped spinning, the waves no longer crashing on the beach, the stars no longer shining in the night sky. It was all gone, just as he was.

Tony set you up for life with money, a payout for his death. But you didn't want it. The money couldn't stop the tears that began from the moment you woke to the moment you finally passed out.

The apartment became dull without his light to fill it, and it all went to shit when you didn't bother cleaning up for yourself anymore. Wanda and Vision often dropped by various dishes they had cooked together that went half-eaten as you could barely stomach the food. They noticed and started bringing you more staple, plain dishes that you would eat more of. Natasha and Bruce tried bringing you novels, but they were left unread in a pile by the door. You didn't have the heart to tell them you spent your days staring at your ceiling, but you had a feeling they knew anyway.

Bucky and Steve tried to visit multiple times, but you left the door unanswered as you remained in your bed, an indent where your body lay with each day that passed, the sheets a grim colour from the lack of washing.

You didn't know how long it had been since you'd lost him, you'd stopped checking your phone after a few weeks unless to call his old number and hear his voicemail, but a loud pounding on your door roused you from your afternoon nap, your shirt clinging to your damp skin that was wet with sweat and tears.

As your padded steps reached the door, you could hear the muffled voices of Bucky and Steve, and the peak through the peephole confirmed it. They were both dressed casually. Steve dressed more brightly, with a brown leather jacket and blue shirt, whereas Bucky was in all black, his coat covering his arm and a leather glove concealing his hand.

There was another bang at the door, an audible impatient huff coming from Steve.

"I can smell you from here, dove," Steve called out, catching your attention as you backed away from the door. "You need a fuckin' shower."

"Don’t listen to him. Let us in, please. We just want to help,” Bucky tried, and after a moment of hesitation, your feet moved on their own towards the door.

They just wanted to help, right? Maybe they could make you smile like you used to. You did miss the banter. Slowly, you released the lock on the door to come face-to-face with the two super soldiers for the first time since the funeral.

“Oh dove, you’re a mess,” Steve cooed with pity as he walked in, not waiting for your invitation, Bucky following closely behind.

They both looked around as they took in the mess of the apartment, various photo frames taken down and placed face down on the floor, the dishes in the sink overflowing and dust and dirt on every surface, in desperate need of a clean.

Both men looked at you in awe. They knew it was bad, but not this bad.

“What do you want?” Your words were cold, feeling judged, even though you thought they were here out of care.

“We’ve come to get you out of here. You’re a mess. You need someone, two someone’s, to take care of you,” Bucky spoke softly as if speaking to a child as he approached you.

But with each step he took forward, you took one step back.

There was something off about them. The way they were looking at you like dogs looking at a juicy bone to chew on.

The air was stifling when your back hit the wall.

“Look at her Stevie, she’s all bones. We’re ‘gonna have to feed her well and get her healthy again, can’t have our girl suffering.”

Bucky’s word sealed their intent, and you let out a shocked whimper as he cornered you. You hadn’t been touched in months, hadn’t thought about love, hadn’t found yourself wanting care or comfort. But there was an innate need brewing in your veins that had you inhaling their musky scents as your body wanted nothing more than to be held.

You were lonely and sad, desperately so. A void in your heart begging to be filled.

Disgusted at your body’s response, you sighed out a shaky breath. “Please… Just leave me be.”

“We’ve waited long enough,” Steve’s voice broke through your squeal as Bucky plunged a needle into the side of your neck, the world becoming blurry and tilted as you collapsed into Bucky’s arms.

“Shh, now, you need your rest. I’ve got you, angel.”

When you woke in a rock-hard bed, you recognised the room immediately. You’d been here before. You glanced over at the laptop in the corner of the room, a memory flashing behind your eyes of sitting there with Steve, his cologne invading your senses as you showed him how to properly format an Excel sheet. When you’d sat on the bed, you’d complained how hard it was.

“Never got used to soft beds after the war, dove.”

This was Steve’s bedroom.

The light was beaming in through the floor to ceiling windows of the compound, the air light and comfortable as you sat up in the plush sheets, seeing the birds flying by the window before you focused on yourself. You were in a fresh, oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts, the realisation hitting you quickly. They’d taken you.

They’d drugged you.

A frantic search of your body found no marks or unwanted touches, everything still the same as you’d left it. But you were clean, showered.

With shaky legs, you climbed out of bed, walking out into the main living and dining area, spotting Steve in the kitchen as Bucky leant against the marble countertop. Both of them looked up at your entrance, smiling at you as if nothing had happened.

“You’re up. I knew you weren’t sleeping. Your body really needed it. You were out for over a day.”

You blinked at Bucky’s words, stopping in your tracks.

This was weird. Too domestic.

When you opened your mouth to respond, Steve plated up an omelette, cutting off your words as your stomach rumbled. “I know you can’t take too much flavour, dove. So, I thought an omelette with some vegetables would be nice for you.”

You looked in disbelief between the two of them. “You drugged me. And washed me.”

“You gave us no choice, angel. You were so tired. When I first came back from Hydra, I couldn’t sleep or clean myself either. I took the same drugs you did, and it helped me so much. Can’t you see we just want to take care of you?” Bucky approached, placing his hand on the small of your back as he directed you forward to the dining table, pulling out a chair and having you sit down before he brought the omelette before you.

Pity filled you as you considered Bucky’s history, empathising with him. He’d been through so much hurt, and he wanted to save you from that. They were just taking care of you. You weren’t taking care of yourself, so it made sense, right?

The grumble of your stomach filled the room, and both super soldiers looked at you expectantly.

Hesitantly, you picked up your fork, getting a mouthful of the omelette. You hated to admit it, but it was delicious. Your muscles relaxed a bit from the food, the first proper meal you’d eaten in days.

When you looked up, you were met with the proud gazes of both Avengers, making you squirm uncomfortably as you finished your plate.

“See, I knew you could do it. Don’t you feel better?” Steve moved to stand next to you, squatting down, so he was at eye level. “You’re an absolute dream. Bucky and I,” he stops for a moment with a sigh. “We’re lonely. Everyone treats us different. But you— you treated us with kindness and compassion. And we just want to make you happy. Won’t you let us return the favour for the number of times you rescued us from our sorrow?”

Steve’s face was close to yours now, so close you could feel his warm breath prickle against your skin.

For the first time since your husband’s death, you felt alive. A warmth pooling in your abdomen and heart alight with emotion.

They were lonely, and so were you.

Would it really be so bad to let yourself feel happy after everything?

As if he could sense the swirling emotions in your mind, Steve closed the gap between you two, lips meeting in a chaste kiss that quickly turned passionate.

Steve stood and brought your body up with him with ease, lifting you like you weighed nothing more than a piece of paper as he wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky came up behind you to place gentle kisses on your neck, his fingers smoothing over your hair, causing tingles to shiver down your spine.

Having not been touched in so long, it felt like heaven, as if you were floating on clouds as Bucky and Steve’s hands roamed under the fabric of your shirt and shorts, caressing every inch of you as you moaned into Steve’s mouth.

You knew this was wrong. That you shouldn’t want this. The whole situation was all wrong. But with each passing moment, your panties became more soaked with your desperate juices, quivering as the pads of Bucky’s fingers, one cold metal and one flesh, began fondling your breasts and teasing your hardening nubs.

With a gasp, you pulled away from Steve’s lips, head tilting back and mouth agape. Steve took the opportunity to attack your neck with kisses and hickeys as Bucky played with your tits, marks littered across your neck and shoulders as he tore your t-shirt in half, throwing the fabric aside.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips and pulled you against the hard bulge of his crotch that was straining his pants painfully. “Feel what you do to me, Angel?”

You could only whimper in response as he ground against your ass, Steve holding you in the air as you became trapped between the two of them.

One held you while the other stripped, then swapped, passing you like a toy before Bucky tore away your shorts and panties, causing a gasp to fall from your lips as the cool air of the room hit your glistening warm pussy.

Bucky took you this time, holding you by your knees and keeping you suspended in the air as he needily kissed you, pushing his tongue past your lips, completely dominating you as his tongue fucked your mouth.

Steve took the opportunity to grope your ass, spreading your cheeks before giving each a hard slap, your pussy practically dripping on Bucky’s chest at this point. Especially when you could feel the way Bucky’s length pulsated under you with each drag of his tongue against yours.

“So sweet, knew you’d be perfect,” Steve muttered before he left an especially hard bite on your shoulder, canines piercing the skin as you whimpered against Bucky’s tongue, an oddly pleasured pain radiating from your shoulder.

Bucky pulled back to admire the mark, taking in your swollen wet lips, a smirk forming as he seemed proud of his work in beginning to ruin you.

Bucky and Steve shared a look, something going unspoken between them before Bucky started to carry you to Steve’s bedroom, the latter following closely behind.

“M’gonna make you feel good, angel,” Bucky grinned as he threw you down on the bed, your back bouncing against the plush sheets you’d woken in.

“W-Wait—Bucky— Oh.” Your protests died in your throat as Bucky knelt at the foot of the bed, running his tongue up your slit, collecting some of your juices with a hum.

“Shh. Don’t speak, dove. Just feel.”

Within an instant, Bucky’s tongue was back on you, the hot muscle dipping between your petalled folds, swirling around your clit before running it to your sopping entrance.

When you looked down at him, his eyes were as dark as night, like a wolf with his prey as he lapped at your pussy, focusing his attention on your soft bud, your moans bouncing off the walls as your back arched against the bed.

Steve was engrossed in watching you two, hand stroking his hard cock lazily as he basked in the beautiful sight.

As Bucky began to suck on your clit Steve joined in, kneeling next to Bucky so he could slip two fingers into your wet heat.

“Fuck, Buck. She’s so tight,” Steve admonished as his fingers slid against your walls, his digits opening in a scissoring motion, causing a tightness to begin forming in your abdomen, a sensation you hadn’t felt in so long.

Bucky groaned against your clit at the thought of fucking your tight cunt, the vibrations making you mewl and writhe against his tongue, Steve’s fingers beginning to pump into you faster.

“Are you going to cum for us? I knew you would be good, but fuck, you’re such a good girl. Been so long since you’ve been touched. Need you stretched and ready for us.”

Steve’s praise had the coil tightening quickly.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Everything was so intense. As if every touch was igniting a fire in your soul, fuelling you to feel again.

A part of you wasn’t even sure if you’d felt like this when Jack was alive.

Steve’s fingers grazed your g-spot as Bucky kept sucking, and it wasn’t long before they sent you over the edge.

You came with a wail, falling apart beneath the two super soldiers as stars filled your vision, body quaking as your juices soaked Bucky’s face and Steve’s fingers, toes curling as your body rode the wave of bliss.

“Been waitin’ so long for you, angel. Still can’t believe you’re finally ours.”

You should have picked up on the hidden malice of Bucky’s words, but you were distracted as Steve’s fingers pulled out of you, leaving you gasping for more.

“I need to feel you, please.” As you spoke, it was as if you didn’t know yourself. Your mind blank apart from the desperation for sensation to take your pain away.

If they filled you, maybe they’d fill the hole in your heart too.

Bucky quickly picked you up and lay on his back, your back on top of his chest, the heat from his skin radiating against you, warming the cold pain in your soul. You could feel his hard cock poking against your entrance, and it had you writhing against him, needing more. Needing anything. Needing them.

With a smirk, Steve mounted you, positioning himself so his cock lined up with your pussy, giving Bucky a glance before they both began to fill you.

The stretch was inhuman. Bucky’s thick girth pushed along Steve’s long, uncut length, both sinking into your pussy.

Your wail rang in their ears as you desperately clawed at Steve’s chest as they just went deeper and deeper, far more than you ever thought possible.

Red pain and yellow pleasure swirled together in the mixing pot and left your body ignited with an orange ember, your surroundings no more than a buzz as it was all replaced with the two super soldiers filling you to their hilts.

“Fuck Stevie, she’s fucking clenchin’ so hard, a perfect fit,” Bucky growled, hands gripping your hips as he so desperately wanted to start fucking up into you. He knew with each second that passed, your need grew. You needed this as much as they did.

“I know, Buck. Fuck. Tightest cunt I’ve ever had.” Steve took in your dazed expression as he kept one hand over Bucky’s at your hip, the other cupping your cheek so your hazy eyes focused on him. “You’re doing so good, dove. We’re going to start moving. I promise you’ll love it.”

Steve was right. As they started rocking in rhythm together, their heavy cocks dragging against your walls, it felt so fucking good.

Steve and Bucky were a drug, and you were addicted.

Bucky held you tight as his hips started snapping up faster, Steve following suit shortly after, as if they were in competition with each other.

All you could focus on was the blazing heat between your legs as they fucked you. Their sounds and muttered praises mixed with their brutal pace had you pliant in Bucky’s hold.

It was all too much, yet not enough at the same time as you were surrounded by the feral grunts of Steve and Bucky, the fullness making your brain hazy as if on cloud nine.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt another orgasm beginning to build, but a rough grip on your chin had your eyes opening to meet Steve’s deep cerulean orbs. “I can feel you getting close, dove. You’re going to look at me as you cum.”

You fell over the precipice again, body awash with a shivering pleasure as your gaze kept on Steve, sinking into the depths of the sea that was his stormy gaze.

Both men simultaneously groaned as you fluttered around them, it was almost difficult to move with how tight you were.

For a moment, they stilled to just feel you and the way your cunt gripped them so deliciously, but then Bucky and Steve shared a look again, and something snapped.

They both started rutting their cocks into your abused hole, merciless and erratic, each ridge and vein gliding against your sensitive channel. Strangled noises began coming from you when Bucky gripped your neck from behind, and Steve entwined his fingers in your soft locks, tugging with each unrelenting thrust.

“Fuck, gonna breed this pretty cunt,” Bucky growled as you felt his cock begin to swell alongside Steve’s, warning of their impending release.

“God, you’re going to make me cum—Fuck dove,” Steve rasped as his cock twitched and his seed started to paint your walls, Bucky’s peak following shortly after.

Their hips didn’t stop as they filled you past the brim, milky white cum spilling out past their dicks as they let your pussy milk every last drop.

Out of breath, you all stilled for a moment, the room thick with the smell of sex and your hearts collectively racing.

Both of them slowly pulled out, Bucky gently moving you so you could rest on the bed as your pussy leaked their essence.

“You did so good, we’re going to take care of you, you have nothing to worry about,” Bucky spoke soothingly as he gently stroked your hair, eyes full of endearment as Steve sat on the other side of you, running his fingers over your bare skin with soft coos.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. We’ve waited so long for you.”

No longer in your lustful haze, you look at Steve with a flustered expression. “What do you mean?”

“We knew the moment we saw you that you were perfect for us. All those years ago.”

Years ago. When you first started working at SHIELD.

Realisation settled deep in your bones like a black rot as you flinched away from them and stood, despite your overused muscles screaming for you to lie down.

Steve and Bucky looked surprisingly calm, both mirroring each other as they slowly sat up, unbothered by your sudden outburst, as if they were enjoying toying with you.

“Years? What—” Uncontrollable tears started welling in your eyes as you frantically looked between them.

A stilted gasp left your lips as the dots started to connect in your mind.

“Can you believe it? Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes want to work with me personally! A solo mission with just the three of us, it’s so exciting, sweetheart.”

Jack’s words rang in your ears as a sob hiccupped from your chest. “Wha— What did you do?”

Steve merely chuckled and shrugged, a cocky smirk on his lips as he got up from the bed, moving to a box kept under his desk, pulling it out for you to see.

They wanted to love you, but they’d have just as much fun tormenting you too until you realised how good they were for you.

With a gulp, you opened the lid of the box, horror piercing through you.

Polaroids. Thousands of them. All of you. Any picture with Jack had aggressive black sharpie marks over his face and body. Alongside them were USBs, hundreds of them.

Taking from the top of the pile, Steve plugged in one of the USBs, letting its contents play on his computer.

A video file opened as it was of your home, your apartment. They’d put cameras in your apartment?

The tears started falling heavier as you saw you and Jack come into the frame, smiling as he twirled you around in his arms, happiness on both your features. “I can’t wait for us to have a baby.”

You could hear Bucky’s jaw clenching at Jack’s words, as if he was going to break his teeth from the pressure.

“We’d waited so long for the right moment. But there was no way we were going to let you have a baby with him. So, we did what we had to do, get rid of the problem.”

The cognisance of what they’d done made you feel as if you were being ripped apart, heart and soul that was finally beginning to heal, covered entirely with a dark ooze emanating from the two men you considered close friends.

They watched as you let out a broken yowl, throwing the polaroids back into the box and darting for the door, but Steve was quick to appear behind you, forearm wrapping around your neck to place you into a headlock.

“That’s enough, dove. We’re done waiting. You’re all ours now. Forever.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #buckybarnes #steverogers #dark fic #marvel #mcu #ambswrites #stucky x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers

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abimess · 2 years

Text

The Story of Us - Chapter 12

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Masterlist | Get notified of my next stories

Summary: You and Wanda have known each other since you were little. And a love story that could've been as simple as a clichéd romantic comedy suffers the effects of stubbornness and immaturity, ending up becoming something almost like a Greek tragedy.

Word count: 7.392 || Pronouns: she/her

Chapter warnings: none

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Series Masterlist | Previews Chapter (Read on: Wattpad || AO3)

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

Paper Rings

It's close to three in the afternoon now, and although you had lunch later that day, you were already getting hungry again. Lucky for you, Pietro seems to see this coming, and you see out of the corner of your eye the man entering the room with a tray of food.

"Snack break, painters." The blond man says, resting the metal piece on a stack of cardboard boxes a few steps from where you're standing. Beside you, Wanda lets out a grunt of contentment before resting the paint roller next to the can of paint, suggesting that she was just as hungry as you are.

"It's about time! I was already thinking I needed to report you for slave labor." You joke as you approach where the two twins are standing, wiping your hands on a cloth before serving yourself, and Pietro laughs through his nose as he takes a sip of his orange juice.

"You celebrities can't handle half an hour of manual labor, that's sad." The older Maximoff jokes back, eyeing you with a playful look of disapproval. You chuckle as you shake your head in amusement, considering rebutting that you've been working there for far longer than half an hour. But when you take the first bite of your sandwich, all your focus is on the food.

After you finally moved back to Westview, a lot has changed. Tony and Steve moved to New York because of the company of the man with the goatee, Carol and Maria moved into a house in the suburbs. But the life that has changed the most, you think, is Pietro's.

You never thought that his and Crystal's relationship would last long since the two of them were always fighting and disagreeing. So you weren't surprised when the two of them split up a few months after announcing their engagement.

However, what really took you by surprise was finding out that Crystal was pregnant. Pietro, though equally surprised by the situation, couldn't be happier, and you couldn't help but find the man's attitudes endearing.

Both of them agreed to raise the child under shared custody, and Pietro decided to move to a better apartment downtown, a place that he thought would be perfect for raising his child. The blond asked you and Wanda to help him decorate the place, and of course you said yes.

So there you were, early in the morning, carrying boxes and organizing furniture. After lunch you decided to do something lighter, to paint the walls that Pietro wanted to change in some rooms. And, finishing your second sandwich, you admire the half-finished work you and Wanda did while the blonde was organizing the room next door.

"I just don't get why you decided to paint it blue." You comment after taking a long sip of your juice, pointing to the walls of the room meant for Pietro's baby, who neither of you know the gender of yet.

"Girls can like blue too, Y/n." The blond retorts humorously, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head in amused disapproval. "You don't need to tell me what girls may or may not like, Mr. Feminist, I know first hand." You joke back, making the man laugh. But then his lips come together in a warm smile.

"I really appreciate your help, guys. Thank you." Pietro says wholeheartedly, shifting his gaze between the two of you, and Wanda smiles as well, moving closer to the man to wrap her arm around him in a hug. "You're my brother, Pietro. I'll help you whenever I can."

"I'm only here because Wanda is." You jest as he returns his sister's hug, and you watch the two Maximoffs smile amused at your comment, Pietro raising an eyebrow as he says, "I guess I bought your favorite beer for nothing then."

"I take back everything I said." You promptly retort, raising your hands in surrender, and making the other two laugh. "Let's get back to work, you idiots." The redhead says amused as she pats her brother before moving away, and you and Pietro nod in agreement.

As Pietro returns the tray of empty dishes to the newly tidy kitchen, you and Wanda return to painting the walls, only two now remaining. You dip the paint roller into the tray of paint next to your feet, but instead of turning to the wall, your eyes are drawn to Wanda.

An immediate smile settles on your lips as you see the redhead running her roller along the wall, that expression of concentration on her face that is so characteristic and that you would never get used to. Some time has passed since you started admiring her, and Wanda finally catches you staring.

"What is it?" The redhead asks with amusement as she drenches the roller with a little more paint, and you can't wipe away your smile as you approach her. "I just remembered I forgot something." You tell her, and before Wanda can ask, you are pulling her by the waist.

The redhead gasps in surprise when your lips meet hers, but the next moment she matches it, the paint roller still in her hand as she wraps her arms around your neck. You smile as you taste the strawberry juice she just had on her tongue, sighing softly at what is one of your favorite sensations in the world.

After a second or two, you feel a coldness on your back, indicating that a few drops of paint have dripped from the roll onto your shirt. But you don't pull away, and neither does she.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

The two of you didn't leave Pietro's house until after dinner, when you decided to end moving day with pizza and beer. And as soon as you got home, all you did was take a shower before collapsing into bed.

As usual, Wanda is the first to wake up, and you smile as you feel the caress on your cheek the next morning. "Good morning." Says the redhead as she notices your change in expression, your girlfriend's husky voice making the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"Good morning, my darling." You reply, finally opening your eyes and being graced with the redhead's sleepy face, a soft smile on her lips as her green eyes tenderly admire you.

"I miss your accent." You say suddenly, looking at her sleepily, and Wanda smiles amused. "Is that so?" She asks, playing with your hair, and you hum, nodding your head in confirmation.

"I remember when we were kids and your accent was strong." You recall, moving closer to her on the bed and bringing one hand to her waist, drawing patterns over her blouse. "Even stronger when we played video games and you would get mad at me for losing every time. I never let you win because of that."

"Did you like it when I was mad at you?" The redhead asks, her eyebrows raised in disbelief and an amused smile on her lips. "Oh, absolutely." You respond humorously, causing her to let out a giggle.

"I miss you walking around with your guitar on your back as if it were just another member of your body." She comments after a while, bringing her hand to your neck to caress your jaw with her thumb, and you laugh through your nose in disbelief. "No, you don't, you always teased me about it."

"Of course I do! It was adorable!" She argues, almost offended that you questioned what she said. But you continue to stare at her with incredulous eyes, and the redhead smiles playfully as she says, "I teased you because that's how I show my love."

Laughing amusedly at your girlfriend's comment, you shake your head in playful disapproval. But noticing the way the redhead lovingly watches you, your expression softens, a small smile lodging itself on your lips.

"Yesterday, arranging Pietro's apartment, I thought of something." You begin, settling down on the bed to get a better look at her, and Wanda's eyebrows frown slightly, showing you that you have her full attention. "Since we started dating I moved into your apartment. And I was thinking... I..."

"Do you think we're moving too fast?" The redhead hunches over at your lack of words, sounding defensive, but you immediately widen your eyes, shaking your head as you say, "Are you kidding? We've spent two years away from each other. I just want to be with you all the time, there's no such thing as too fast for me."

"Okay, good. I feel the same way." Wanda says amidst a light smile, the worried expression disappearing before your assurance, and you smile back.

"What is it, then?" She asks after a moment of silence and your smile falters ever so slightly, your heart beating faster with the weight of your next words. Wanda, who was busy taking her hands to your hair, doesn't seem to notice your change in expression.

"What I was thinking is that..." You begin, but the words fail you once again, and you let out a nervous giggle. But Wanda looks at you with nothing but love and tenderness, and you realize that there's nothing to fear. "I want to build a family with you. Have children. Dogs-"

"One dog." The redhead playfully interrupts, and you smile amusedly as you pretend not to have noticed the intense blush on her cheeks. "Fine. One dog." You agree, rolling your eyes in annoyance, and making Wanda giggle.

"A big house with a pool for the kids to play in, and a grill for us to host our friends." You continue, a dreamy smile and your gaze lost somewhere behind Wanda as you imagine every single detail.

"That sounds nice." The redhead says softly after a moment, drawing your gaze back to her, and you feel your heart warming inside your chest at the sight of your girlfriend's happy smile. "I know you like this apartment, but what do you think about us moving?"

"This apartment is very special to me. I have experienced many important things of my life here, for a long time." Wanda replies, relishing your expression of anticipation as she speaks slowly before adding, "But it's time to find a new place to make new memories."

In response, you move forward against the redhead, hugging her tight and showering her face with kisses, her laughter filling your ears until the moment your lips rest against hers. With a persistent smile, Wanda matches the kiss, and you only pull away, reluctantly, when air is needed.

"Okay, I'll start looking for houses in the area then. How's your schedule today? Maybe if I find any nice places this morning we can visit in the afternoon." You say, and the redhead smiles amused at your excitement, finding it adorable. Soon after, however, her expression turns apologetic.

"I'd love to, but today is gonna be a busy one. I teach all day and in the evening there's a parent-teacher meeting." The redhead tells you with a long tired sigh, already anticipating the exhaustion the day will bring, and you make an empathetic grimace at her situation. "That sucks."

"I know, please save me." Your girlfriend whines as she wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you down so she can hide her face in the crook of your neck, and you let out an amused giggle. "Wanda Maximoff wanting to skip work?"

"You're right, I take it back." The redhead says the next moment, nodding her head in agreement and making you smile amusedly. But then she's pushing you off her so she can get off the bed, and it's your turn to complain.

"Wait, I didn't tell you to get up!" You argue as you pull her back to you. "I have to go, love, I'm already late." Wanda retorts with an amused smile, but making no effort to get off top of you. Instead, settling herself comfortably with her legs at the sides of your body, and you sit up so that your face is at the height of hers.

"Ten more minutes. Pretty please." You plead with puppy dog eyes, wrapping your arms around Wanda's waist in a tight hug so that she doesn't even think about getting up, and the redhead smiles amusedly, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"I can stay another ten minutes." She agrees, kissing your cheek up to the height of your ear, and you smile satisfied. "Or I can go now and you can join me in the shower." The redhead adds in a whisper against your ear the next moment, and an immediate shiver runs down your spine.

Wanda giggles against your neck as you hastily stand up with her on your lap toward the bathroom. But then you are kissing her passionately, your hand finding her skin under her blouse, and the redhead is not laughing anymore.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

The first thing you do after Wanda leaves for work is sit down with your laptop on the couch in the living room and start searching for houses for sale.

You find a lot of great options and you have to control yourself not to send them all to Wanda. But when you look deeper into the details of each one to choose the best one, you realize that you have no idea what you're doing.

During all these years, whenever you wanted to acquire a new property, you simply told Ororo what you were looking for, and your agent took care of the rest.

You could do the same this time, but you wanted this one to be different. This time it wasn't just a random piece of property in some city where you spend a lot of time for work. This time it was your home with Wanda, and you would treat it with the specialness it deserves.

So you decide to ask Carol for help instead, since the blonde has recently gone through a home-buying process with Maria. The woman is more than happy to help, and you smile excitedly as you thank her.

But progress doesn't go much further than this, because Wanda barely answers your messages during the day due to her busy schedule, and you think it best to talk to her about it when she arrives tonight.

And so you decide to get busy with other things, finishing up some songs you've been working on for a while and sending them to Ororo so that she can give her opinions and sell them to whomever she sees fit.

Night is falling then, and you check your watch with a frown as you see the time. Wanda was really not having an easy day today.

But it was already close to eight o'clock and, figuring it wouldn't take her much longer to arrive, you decide to start preparing dinner. Shortly after you're halfway done, you hear the apartment door opening.

"Hey, you." You say as you make your way to the entrance, smiling warmly when you see the redhead entering the place. But instead of smiling back as usual, Wanda walks up to you with a sad expression, and hugs you around the waist tightly, hiding her face in your neck.

"Is everything okay?" You ask softly, your tone of voice concerned as you wrap your arms around your girlfriend, stroking her back tenderly as you wait for an answer, and Wanda lets out a long sigh.

"Today was hard." The redhead replies simply, the sound of her voice muffled by your skin, and you nod slowly in understanding, depositing a soft kiss on the crown of her head before tightening your arms around her. Wanda does the same, clinging her body even closer to yours, and sighing appreciatively.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask after a moment, and the redhead moves away from you in order to look at you, sliding her fingers through her hair to tuck it behind her ears. "There's this kid in my class, Nebula. She's a very complicated child. We called her father in to talk, and it turned out that he proved to be the exact reason she is the way she is."

"I'm sorry about that, darling." You speak without quite knowing what to say, the expression of sadness on your girlfriend's face making your heart ache. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about it?"

"I have a few ideas, but I'm meeting with the pedagogical team tomorrow to decide." She tells you, holding your hand and guiding you toward the kitchen, and you stroke her hand with your thumb as you nod. "Got it."

In the kitchen, the redhead takes her time with a glass of water, and you rest your elbows on the kitchen counter, watching her carefully. Noticing her distracted, her eyes lost on the floor, you move closer, taking your hands lovingly to her upper arms.

"For now, no more thinking about work, huh? How about a warm shower for you to relax a bit? I'll take care of dinner." You suggest tenderly and smile as you see a small smile forming on the redhead's lips as she leans her forehead against yours. "Thank you, my love."

"It's no problem at all." You say, depositing a kiss on the tip of her nose and making her smile. After a brief moment, Wanda pulls away from you, but before she can go far, an idea crosses your mind.

"Oh, wait!" You call out, hurrying toward her, and the redhead turns to you with a mixed expression of confusion and curiosity that lasts only until you hold her face between your hands and kiss her tenderly.

"Once because you had a long night." You say, and the redhead smiles amused. Before she can say anything, you kiss her again. "Twice because it's gonna be alright." Wanda smiles silly, but then you kiss her once more, and she looks at you expectantly, waiting for the next reason.

"What about the third time?" The redhead asks amused when you remain silent, just admiring the change in your girlfriend's expression, once so hurt and now light. "It's just because I waited my whole life for it." You finally answer, shrugging, and Wanda smiles broadly before connecting her lips to yours a fourth time.

The kiss this time is longer and more passionate. But like all the others, despite your wishes, it comes to an end. But neither of you pull away for good, and you smile silly as you feel Wanda whispering against your lips, "I love you."

"I love you too." You reply in the same tone, pecking her lips then, and the redhead lets out a giggle before moving away.

As Wanda heads off to your shared room, you get back to work on dinner, giving your attention back to the pans and ingredients strewn across the countertop, heretofore neglected by you. Before you leave the room for good, the redhead risks a glance back in your direction, smiling at the sight of you concentrating on the meal you are preparing.

And suddenly a thought crosses the redhead's mind.

Wanda had already thought about marrying you, of course. Ever since you were children and she and her friends talked about marriage and party plans, she had always imagined you being the one she would marry.

Even later, during all the years you spent apart, whenever wedding conversations came up and the redhead allowed herself to imagine her own, she couldn't help but picture you waiting for her at the altar, even though she tried with all her might not to.

And then the two of you got back together, and these thoughts came back even stronger.

But they were just that, thoughts. Plans of a "someday" that had no real date or concrete plans of how or when it would happen.

Today, however, the thought was different. As if a key had turned in the redhead's mind, making her want it all as immediately as possible. She would marry you right there if she could and just the thought of having rings on your fingers, a mere symbol that you were each other's, warmed her heart to the point of overwhelming her in the best possible way.

Despite how inviting the idea seemed, however, she wanted to do it the right way. She wanted it to be special, unhurried or hasty. A memory that would mark your lives and that you would never forget.

But not wanting to explain herself in case you caught her staring, Wanda finally makes her way to your shared room. Ideas of weddings and white dresses in her mind, completely unaware that the same was going on in yours.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

The next morning, while Wanda is at work, you are driving.

A few minutes later, you arrive at your destination, the house you have come to so many other times in the past. Remembering those times, you catch yourself thinking that this is probably not the one you've been most nervous about. The thought hasn't diminished the trembling of your legs however.

As soon as you ring the doorbell, you let out a long sigh to calm yourself, and straighten your posture as you hear the door being unlocked on the other side.

"Y/n." The man says, in a mixture of surprise and confusion, and you smile politely. "Good afternoon, Mr. Maximoff." You greet him, and Oleg murmurs a greeting before saying, "Wanda is not here."

"I know. I came here to talk to you." You answer without hesitation, and it takes no effort to notice your words have taken the older Maximoff by surprise. Still, the man nods in confirmation, inviting you in the following moment.

The walk to the residence's living room is probably the longest you've ever made in your life, but once you get there Oleg offers you a seat on the couch before sitting down on the couch opposite yours, and you thank him before doing so.

For the next moment you just stare at each other in silence, Oleg in anticipation and you trying to think of the best way to say what you went there to say.

"I want to marry your daughter." You utter abruptly, bluntly, and the suddenness of your speech takes you both by surprise. But then you swallow dryly, ignoring the astonished expression of the man in front of you, "I'm not here to ask permission. Wanda is a grown woman, she's the one who should decide what she wants or not. But I know how important her family is to her, so I think it would be good if we settled our disagreements. Besides, sir, you've always been like a father to me in a way, and I'm sorry if-"

"Y/n." Oleg interrupts you then, and you mentally thank him as you don't know what the lump in your throat would become if you kept talking. The man just stares at you for a moment, and you wait for him to speak with your jaw clenched in apprehension.

"I'm sorry I've been rude to you since you arrived." Oleg finally says, and you find yourself unable to hide your shock. The man offers you a small smile, which you return almost numbly. The next moment, however, his expression turns serious again. "But you made a mess out of my daughter when you left the first time. It's not easy for a father to see what I saw."

"I know." You mutter in shame, and Oleg is quick to continue speaking, "I was worried when Wanda decided to get involved with you again. I feared for her that she would get hurt again. You have proven yourself to be a trustworthy person, though, so it would be foolish of me not to trust you... But please, Y/n. Don't hurt my daughter again."

"I won't. I have no intention of doing so." You assure, nodding your head vigorously in confirmation, and Oleg has an almost proud smile when he says, "Good. Then you have my blessing."

"Thank you." You say amidst a happy giggle, making the man chuckle as well. Your first impulse is to get up and hug him, but not wanting to push your luck, you decide not to. However, Oleg, reading your body language, stands up, and walks over to you.

Standing up as well, you accept the man's embrace without a second thought, and the two of you stand there for a long moment, the reconciliation calming your heart. When you pull away, you smile fondly at him.

"I need to go now, I'm meeting Carol for lunch." You tell, earning a nod of the head from the older Maximoff before he guides you back to the front of the house. There, you say your goodbyes, and you're already opening the car door when you hear him call your name again.

"Yes?" You ask as you turn to look at him once more, and Oleg smiles as he says, "You're like a daughter to me, too. I know your relationship with your family is not the best. Mine with my parents wasn't either, so I understand what you're going through. I want you to know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, sir." You say wholeheartedly, too overwhelmed by the man's honest words to think of anything else to respond, and Oleg smiles broadly. "You can just call me Oleg."

Letting out a short laugh, you nod your head in understanding and goodbye before getting into the car. And, driving away, you breathe out a sigh of relief before your mind is filled with your next plans.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

When you arrive at the restaurant, you see that the blonde is already at one of the tables waiting for you.

As soon as you join her there, Carol pulls you into a warm hug, and soon you are talking about many different subjects.

It doesn't take long for the conversation to rest on the main topic, however, and you tell the blonde in more details about your plans with Wanda to move to a house further away from the center, and about needing her help in choosing the best area and tips in general.

"Okay... Now tell me the truth." Carol says after the long minutes you've been talking, and you frown in confusion, a confused giggle leaving your lips. "What?"

"Come on, Y/n, you would never look for houses to live in with Wanda without her here, you're that kind of gay." The blonde argues, making you laugh. "And from what you've told me, she's not joining us until four, and it's not even one o'clock yet."

Carol checks the time on her cell phone as she speaks, and you smile shyly, keeping silent because she read you just right. Realizing she was correct, the blonde flashes a smile of her own, a mixture of victory and amusement. "So, what do you want with me?"

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me." You tell her, and the next moment you are vigorously signaling Carol to stop showing her happiness so loudly, attracting the attention of all the surrounding tables and waiters.

"I would like it if the entire Westview didn't know about this before my likely-future-fiancée, thank you." You scold, but you're too happy not to smile. The blonde laughs as she does what you ask, but the next moment she's looking at you in disbelief.

"Likely?! Please, as if Wanda would say no to you, you are the definition of a Disney couple." Carol says, forcing a grimace of disgust, and you chuckle briefly, shaking your head in amused disapproval. "Anyway, I need your help."

"Okay... Have you thought about how to do the proposal?" The blonde asks, her posture more serious and committed now. "No." You say and Carol nods. "Have you chosen the ring yet?" She fires off another question, to which you reply, "Nope."

"Do you know what to say?..." The blonde asks, the tone of her voice hopeful that the answer this time would be yes, but all you do is shake your head in denial. "Damn, we're in for a lot of work I see." Carol says in a sigh, leaning back against the chair, and your chest begins to tighten in anxiety.

"But don't worry, we'll manage." She hastens to state, noticing your expression of despair. "Besides, Wanda loves you so much I'm sure she would say yes even if you asked her by text message."

"Well, but I'm definitely not gonna do that." You say with a laugh, feeling your heart get warm along with your cheeks at your friend's comment. "Of course not." Carol confirms, and you raise your eyes just in time to see the mischievous grin she flashes you.

"Let's get started."

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

The first meeting with Carol is all about working out the details. You and Wanda spend hours talking to her over coffee about what you are looking for and your main insecurities, and you have to look away from the blonde whenever she casts a knowing glance at you.

The following days are pure exhaustion for you, looking for houses with Wanda and preparing your proposal when she's not around. Not only that, but the anxiety kept you from sleeping properly, and every day you became more and more tired.

The biggest cause of your anxiety was finding a wedding ring.

Knowing that Wanda would wear it for the rest of her life if she said yes compelled you to search for the perfect piece of jewelry. However, you soon realized a tragic truth: no ring would be perfect enough for your beloved's hand.

Too small, too big, too flashy, too discreet... None of them were good enough and you were about to give up the proposal just because you couldn't find a ring you liked.

Carol, who had followed most of your drama, was running out of patience, and suggested that you look for something online if none of the jewelry stores in town appealed to you.

But how could you buy something online? Without seeing the ring? Without touching it? What if it was horrible? Completely different from the pictures? After all these reasons, you think the blonde was about to give up on you. And honestly? So are you.

The world doesn't stop because of your dilemma, however, and as you, Wanda and Carol head for the next house, you think you need to make a choice soon.

"Okay, this is one of the houses that Mary and I liked best when we were planning to move, maybe you guys will like it too." The blonde tells you as she parks the car in front of the construction, and you and Wanda are already looking out the window before you get out.

The house is large, perhaps one of the largest you have seen so far, with two stories and several windows. The light green of the walls is not very much to your liking, but you're sure you can change it if you decide to live there.

After you get out of the car, Wanda gives you a hopeful look, a smile on her lips perking up before she walks to the door, and you reciprocate the expression before following her.

"Pretty spacious living room." That's what you comment to Carol as you look at the surrounding space, Wanda heading straight for the kitchen. There isn't much furniture, just the ones the owner of the property didn't want to keep to themselves, you assume, and the place is very well lit naturally.

"Right? It's pretty easy to rearrange the furniture, too." Carol complements, gesturing around, and you hum a confirmation, looking at the surrounding doors and staircase leading upstairs before walking over to the window of sorts between the kitchen and living room to pass dishes.

"I liked that. Choosing whether the kitchen will be open to the living room or not." You comment to the blonde as you open it. To your surprise, the wooden pieces are lighter than you expected, but that's only because Wanda also had the idea to open the window at the same time as you.

"Hi, gorgeous." You say in a flirtatious tone as you see her on the other side, leaning your elbow on the wood charmingly, and the redhead matches your posture in the same way. "Hi, hot stuff. Come here often?"

"Maybe. You?" You maintain your playful flirtatious tone, and Wanda smiles as she nods. "That's a strong possibility." She replies, and before you can rebut, Carol's phone rings, attracting both of your attention.

"It's Maria, I'll be right back." The blonde announces, already heading outside the house as she answers the call and leaving you and Wanda alone.

"Let's go look outside." Your girlfriend invites, and you nod before joining her in the kitchen.

The door to the outside is at the back of the kitchen, and the back yard makes you and Wanda let out exclamations of both surprise and wonder.

The space is huge, with a pool and a covered area with tables and chairs next to a barbecue grill, just the way you had envisioned it before. Between this covered area and the garage is a gap in which you could build a small home studio, if none of the rooms fit.

"It's not the best, but we can work on it. Change the vinyl and stuff." Wanda comments, approaching the pool, and you do the same. Indeed, the pool isn't one of the best you've ever seen, but it wouldn't take that much work to make it brand new.

Then you hum in agreement with the redhead's comment, nodding your head as you look around once more, and a wooden construction beside the fence on the right makes your expression light up. "Look, a house for the dogs!"

"Dog." Wanda corrects, casting you a playful look of annoyance, and you giggle. When you raise your hands in surrender, the redhead giggles too, and you let your amused smile turn into a warm one.

"I'm really enjoying this one." You say wholeheartedly, smiling silly. And though she smiles back with her eyes shining in reciprocation, Wanda chooses to say, "Let's go see the second floor first."

And so you walk up the stairs, and are faced with a wide hallway leading to five closed doors.

"We have a lot of rooms here." You comment after you have taken a general look at all the rooms and Wanda nods slowly, a furrow between her eyebrows as she thinks.

"That's a good thing, we could use the space." You nod in agreement as she speaks, and watch carefully as she begins to point to the doors. "Our room, a guest room, the children's rooms..."

"Two?" You interrupt her as you notice her pointing to exactly two doors only while talking about the children. Wanda looks at you in confusion, but noticing your silly smile, she finally realizes the implication of her comment, her cheeks becoming red.

"What do you think?" She asks, almost shyly, but you're already grinning from ear to ear, your hands around her waist as you pull her close. "I think it's perfect." You agree in a whisper, and Wanda's bright smile is the last thing you see before she closes the distance between you.

The kiss only ends when Carol's voice downstairs calls out to you, and you pull away with the same silly smiles as before.

"Up here!" You let her know, and the blonde's heavy footsteps are soon followed by her figure appearing on the stairs. "And?" She asks expectantly, shifting her gaze between the two of you. You smile happily, and Wanda exchanges a look of confirmation with you before answering.

"This is our home."

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

To celebrate the purchase of the new house, you and Wanda decide to go out to dinner that weekend. And that is the exact occasion when you decide to propose to her.

You drive to the sound of the music the redhead puts on the radio and your conversations. But you listen more than you talk, too anxious about what you will be doing soon.

Wanda didn't know where you were going until you arrived at your destination, and she gave you a knowing look when you parked the car in the town center, the place of your first date. The redhead joked that this was a special day indeed, and all you managed to do in your panicked state was to let out an agreeing chuckle.

The two of you stroll unhurriedly hand in hand along the lakefront sidewalk, talking and choosing which restaurant you'll have dinner at. In honor of old times, you decide to eat at the same restaurant you did on your first date, and the two of you spend a long time talking about what has changed and stayed the same in the establishment.

Dinner continues after that, and you feel that you are managing to keep your cool pretty well. Now, if Wanda has noticed your anxious and restless state, she doesn't show it, and for you that's enough.

When you finally finish eating, several minutes later, you take her to the grassy area a little away from the establishments.

The space is much emptier than it would be during the day, but still has a few groups and couples sitting around, talking or just enjoying the surroundings.

Deciding that remembering the exact place where you sat on your first date would be demanding too much of your memories, you just exchange amused smiles, and choose a random place to sit.

"Do you remember how good our first date was?" you comment nostalgically after a few minutes of silence watching the dark lake, and Wanda has a smile that matches your tone perfectly as she replies.

"How could I ever forget? I remember feeling like I was in a fairy tale that day." Her comment takes you back to that day, when she said the exact same thing when you went to drop her off at her house.

"But now," Wanda speaks again, drawing your eyes back to her, "every day with you feels like a fairy tale actually." Her comment is so honest that it makes all the butterflies in your stomach fly rampant throughout your entire body.

"I feel the same way, honestly." You reply, and under her attentive gaze and sweet smile directed at you, you realize: now is the perfect moment. "And that's why I... No."

You shake your head, straightening up so you can sit facing her. This is not how the speech you planned would begin. But how did it begin? Damn, it's really hard to think when her green eyes are watching you so expectantly.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asks amid a short chuckle after a few minutes of silence and nothing more than a few unintelligible babbles coming from your lips. You chuckle awkwardly in response and, taking a deep breath, you say. "I want to tell you something."

"Okay." The redhead says, her amused expression turning into one of pure anticipation as she straightens up to get a better look at you. You take another deep breath, trying to remember the words of the speech you had so lovingly prepared but which have now fled your mind completely. "When I met you... No, it's not that... Wanda, I feel that... When I'm with you... I-"

"I do." She interrupts your rambling, a sweet smile on her lips, and your expression falls into complete shock. "What?" you ask almost in an incredulous whisper, and the redhead lets out a low chuckle in amusement at your reaction.

"I do want to marry you." She makes herself clear, moving even closer to you. "Is that what you're trying to say to me?" She asks, a mixture of sweetness and amusement in her tone, and you chuckle shyly. "Yes. Yes it is."

"Then I do." She replies, and you may be smiling too much to kiss her, but that doesn't stop you from doing so, connecting your lips to hers eagerly. Wanda, though letting out a happy giggle in response, matches it in the same instant.

"I'll have you know, I had a really good speech prepared, about how I love you and how you make me happy and stuff." You pull away from her to say, raising your index finger in the air for emphasis, and Wanda smiles amused.

"I'm sure you had." She says, nodding her head as she brings both hands to your neck, playing with your hair between her fingers. "But you can tell me all those things for the rest of our lives."

"I will." You assure her, your voice little more than a whisper as you catch yourself completely mesmerized by the beauty of the woman before you. It is only a long moment later that you realize that something is missing, and you move away from her with an expression of realization on your face.

Wanda watches with curiosity as you rummage through the pockets of your clothes in search of what she supposes to be the ring. And when the little black velvet box finally appears before her eyes, she unconsciously holds her breath.

Without saying a word so as not to spoil the sublimity of the moment, you just lift the lid, revealing the ring inside the box. With a wide smile and watery eyes, the redhead admires the piece, a silver one with a green stone in the center. The most beautiful ring she has ever seen.

"Did you like it?" you ask, your uncertain tone of voice going unnoticed by the redhead, who was too busy admiring the item. "I loved it." She says, finally raising her watery eyes to yours.

"You sure?" You insist, your eyebrows knitted together in unbelief, and Wanda frowns hers in confusion. "Yes, I'm sure! What's up with that?" she asks, almost offended, and you let out an amused chuckle.

"I don't think it's good enough for you. I wanted a perfect ring. But this is the best one I could find." You explain yourself shyly, and Wanda can't help but find the scene endearing.

"It is perfect." She says, her eyes going down to the item in your hands before returning to yours, a playful expression on her face this time. "And, being honest, I would marry you even if it was with paper rings."

"Well, I would've liked to have known that before, it would've made my job a lot easier." You joke back, rolling your eyes. But the redhead shakes her head, looking at you with an expression you can only define as adoration. "No you wouldn't. You still would've looked for a perfect one."

Having no way to defend yourself against the accusation, you just let out a laugh, smiling shyly at her. Before the redhead can say that that is the reason she loves you so much, you are taking the ring out of the box, and all her attention rests on it.

When you finally slide the jewel onto her finger, you smile to yourself, proud. You have spent so much time looking for a perfect ring, that you had forgotten that perfection actually lies in the fact that she is wearing a ring that symbolizes the union of the two of you.

When you raise your happy eyes to her face, you notice that she was already looking at you.

"I love you." Wanda says under her breath, her eyes laden with happy tears that make your own eyes water. "I love you more than anything, my darling."

Before you can even finish speaking, the redhead is moving against you again. And as she kisses you once more, the cold of her wedding ring against your cheek, you smile against her lips, feeling complete at last.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

Chapter 13

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda maximoff x you #wandavision

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fosermi · 3 years

Text

SEMI BACK FROM THE DEAD PEOPLE

That's right! I'm back! And I bring to you CHAPTER 3 OF GUARDIAN MACAQUE AU

WHY?! Well because I couldn't sleep well and it's 5 am fuck my headache I give you content!! Fair warning: Macaque is a soft monkey especially to kids AND YOU CAN PRY THIS HC FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS ABDJFKCMCM

Some days, Biming would leave to sell the rice cultivated in their field to the neighbouring village. An oddity, Hóu realised. Why sell to another village? He didn't understand… After all, there were other houses in their village.

"Hóu?" Ai's soft voice called for the demon. Oddly enough, it wasn't her usual tone that came through her call.

Immediately detecting the shift from her usual beat, the black monkey jumped down from his position on the plum tree that grew in the back garden of the couple's home. The tree upon which the monkey would spend most of his free time on whenever he could. "You called, Mrs. Ai?"

"Oh! Yes, dear…" her voice dripped with worry - fear even. In her arms a red cloak, outstretched as if allowing him to take it. "Could you please accompany Biming to the town today…?" Her eyes glimmering under the morning sun with worry, begged the black monkey to take on her request.

Hóu, with an immediate nod, complied as he gently took the cloak from Ai's grasp. Hesitantly, the black monkey built up enough courage to ask the kind lady, her worry affecting his own.

"Mrs. Ai… is everything alright…?" His hand reached out to Ai’s in an attempt to comfort her as his eyes locked with hers, taking notes of the high level of worry embedded deep within her honey-brown eyes.

Seeing the concern in Hóu's golden eyes, Ai's tense shoulders fell as she let out a shaky breath. "Ling Fa… he warned us that demons moved in close to the rout Biming takes to the other village…"

Ling Fa… yes…

He was the family's guardian spirit… it was his duty to protect the family, right? Of course he would warn the kind couple.

By late morning, Biming and Hóu had headed out on the road on the small mule-pulled cart with their cargo safely secured. Ling Fa had stayed behind to ensure Ai's safety as he would not have been much help with manual labor.

Hóu rode on the back of the cart as his mind drifted off to the thoughts of the strange family guardian. They had previously met a couple of times. Ling Fa wasn't a concerning figure, in fact Hóu believed he was incapable of fighting due to his pacifistic tendencies.

Throughout the journey, Biming and Hóu held up a small lighthearted conversation, a conversation that seemed to have only lasted a couple of minutes was in fact just two hours.

Soon the duo were at town close to noon, Hóu couldn't believe how lively everything was! Carts and vendors and buyers were everywhere! If he was being honest, Hóu's entire world seemed to start spinning due to the overload of his senses.

"Welcome to the market, Hóu!" Biming said with a bright smile as he handed Hóu some earplugs. "They might not completely drown out all the new senses but its something at least… if you ever need a breath at all, then tell me and we can go to a more tame part of the town were we can rest for a bit"

Hóu's reply came in the form of a nod. However, even though his senses are over exerting himself, Hóu knew that he had to allow Biming to sell their crops so they could earn the money needed. So, the black monkey decided to sit right behind the cart after putting on the earplugs, mostly hidden from the front view as she observed how Biming bargained and sold his crops.

Eventually, daylight started diminishing as the sun was starting to head down the horizon, turning the shy a nice shade that reminded the monkey of orange peaches… something about the sunset seems to have upset the demon and he felt a pang of pain in his chest.

Upon noticing the sadness embedded on the monkey’s face, Biming decided that it was time to head home. "Hóu, let's go home." Came the familiar voice of the young man that got Hóu moving onto the back of the cart, and once again head off back home. "We should be back home just after sunset" Said Biming in an attempt to comfort his companion, which seemed to have worked somewhat.

The ride back didn't have many complications, it was a smooth ride back with a few conversations every now and again. Once home, Biming and Hóu carried their goods into the home as they announced their return, only to be greeted by the smell of Ai's amazing cooking as they sat down by the table to eat.

Biming was telling Ai how well Hóu had taken to the city and how well behaved he was. He kept on flattering the black monkey demon which got Hóu to stutter every now and again when he decided to speak up. Soon enough, it was time to head to bed after it was decided that from then on, Hóu would accompany Biming to the market.

His days spent here in the small farm house by the valley with Ai and Biming went by faster than he expected. And soon, they would have a new addition to their family in the form of a child between the couple.

The couple at first didn't know how Hóu would react to children, as throughout Ai's pregnancy, he had done his best to avoid her as much as possible without angering her. He however instead spent his time with Biming learning how to trade and sell as well as bargain and buy goods.

When their daughter was born, the couple found something they never had expected to see. That night they had awoken to the sound of soft cries coming from the adjacent room that Hóu had offered the baby to stay in with him so he could make sure that their daughter was safe from all harm. Surprisingly, Hóu had also swore it as his duty out of the blue one night before she was even born.

What surprised them however, was what they saw in the room that night. They had found Hóu gently cradling their small daughter in his arms. Biming most of all was surprised at how Hóu could be so delicate with such a small fragile being and yet possess strength strong enough to carry the entire cart filled with supplies.

Hóu looked over at the couple with worry laced all very his face. "S-sorry… she won't stop crying… she must be hungry!" It surprised Ai how well he knew how to manage a baby and how he could tell what was wrong. She stood there for a moment as she smiled at the panicked monkey before taking her daughter to feed her in the other room, leaving Biming and Hóu together in the room.

Biming sat down next to Hóu on the bed who seemed a bit anxious. "Is something the matter Hóu?" Came the concerned question from Biming.

Hóu's tail flicked anxiously like an irritated cat, he lowered his head and talked in barely a whisper "she's just so small Biming… will she really survive?"

With a comforting hand on Hóu's shoulder, a smile found its way onto Biming's face "with you worrying about her like this… I know she'll be perfectly fine Hóu…" and with that, Ai came back in, carrying their sleeping daughter in her arms.

Without a second to lose, Hóu was up on his feet to give the bed to the sleeping baby. But instead, Ai gave him the small bundle of joy with a smile. Something within him clicked that night, and for the first time he remembered something from his past.

A conversation?

"Hey, [~~~] why so stiff?"

"Because! They're so small! So defenseless! How can they survive?!" A chuckle rang out throughout what seemed like a cave as the sound echoed.

"They're children! Of course, they're small! But hey! They seem to like you!"

"I… I guess they do…"

"You know… if you're really worried about them so much why not take care of them?"

"Don't you already do that?"

"Well, technically, yes? But what I meant was you could watch over the little ones and make sure they're safe?"

"... alright, I'll do it!"

Hóu held the small child close to his chest, a stifled sob escaped him as a few tears flowed down his face and onto the blankets that wrapped around the baby. This concerned the couple as they barely see Hóu cry, in fact. This is only the second time they've seen him cry ever since finding him that fateful day.

Just before they could react, Hóu faced them. Face stained with tears but his eyes held a strong determination. "No matter what, I'll make sure she becomes big and strong. I swear on my life"

With his sudden declaration, the couple found a sense of peace and comfort. Ever since then, Hóu had appointed himself their daughter's caretaker and would help Ai and Biming with their daughter in whatever way he could. There had been countless times when Ai or Biming would search for their daughter only to find her asleep on Hóu who had her safely asleep on or under his favorite tree in their garden, sometimes asleep himself.

Such were the peaceful times, the days he wouldn't have to worry about much except for their family's safety. Nothing could happen to them, he used to think. Not until the incident.

Golden eyes fluttered open as he heard a faint sound of someone calling out to him. "I'm heading off to work dad!! Text you later!!" Followed by a door slamming shut and a soft ringing of a bell.

With a sigh, the black monkey sat up and combed through his messy black hair before getting up and heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Mi Hóu looked at the mirror and examined himself only to be taken back to see a human face before remembering that his life with Ai, Biming, and their daughter Chu-Hua had ended a couple of hundred years ago.

He had remembered everything since that time, and his true name is Liu er Mihóu otherwise known as the Six Eared Macaque. And he remembered that at this current time, he has a son. A son that he had to look out for in a world of hidden demons. But here's the catch, he can't let his son know that he himself is a demon even though he already knows about demons. Which is why he uses a human disguise.

"Another regular day of work I guess…" he mumbled as he heard the ringing of the bell hung at the door indicating that someone had entered their home, or to be more specific, his clinic. Little did he know that this day would be the end of his daily routine of curing demons and teaching at a dojo.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid au #guardian macaque #guardian macaque au #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #monkie kid macaque #listen i live for dad macaque #and now i give you macaque being soft with babies #my writing

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