#wrote an essay on tags be aware before clicking read more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jomiddlemarch · 6 months

Text

Thank you, @tortoisesshells for the kind tag! Sorry for the delay in responding-- work conference, Covid recovery, band geek mom triple threat.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

845. You read that correctly. Several proper drabbles and at least two co-authored fics, including the Mansion House Murder Hotel round robin.

2. What's your total A03 words count?

1,453,769. Again, that includes some co-written fic I am not inclined to parse for my exact count.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mercy Street, Foyle's War, Shadow and Bone, Poldark, A Discovery of Witches, Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, The Last of Us, GLOW, Downton Abbey, Frozen, James Bond, Star Wars, The Hour, Ted Lasso, Sanditon, Dune, Leap/Ballerina, Brooklyn 99, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Gilmore Girls, Far From The Madding Crowd, Emma, Betsy-Tacy, and a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"what it is to be a thin crescent moon" (SAB), "A Wife--at daybreak I shall be" (AOGG), "Point and Click" (SAB, modern AU), "Bear with the truths I would tell you now," (Emma), "The subtlest fold of the heart" (AOGG)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do. At a bare minimum, I try to thank the commenter for taking the time to read. In the halcyon days of Mercy Street, I wrote long, discursive essay-comments because that was our vibe. I am not always prompt, but I do try to get back to people, though sometimes if the comment is very thoughtful, it takes me a while because I want to give an equivalent response.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably "Because I could not stop for Death," a Mercy Street fic where I wrote vignettes where I killed someone in each of the 18 installments, though I did end the whole thing killing the agreed-upon most loathsome character. I don't tend to write fics with angsty endings, though I don't mind writing it midway.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is tough, because I mostly write HEA. I'm going to pick a relatively deep cut and say "Always a Bridesmaid," the Mercy Street modern au rom-com, since the whole thing is a fairly giddy romp.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

A little. I've received 1-2 negative comments on AO3 and once wrote a gift-fic for someone in the Reylo fandom and got attacked on what was then Twitter and Tumblr by fans of the writer I was gifting, even though I had offered to the writer to take the story down. I now only write gift-fic for people I have some relationship with.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. It's full of consent, sometimes awkward (who else has written crappy postpartum sex on Tumblr? I may be the cheese standing alone on that one) and almost never results in an unplanned pregnancy as a plot device. I most write cis-het and strenuously avoid using any term for a penis that isn't dick or cock. No straining members (sounds like a bunch of constipated middle management.)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

OMG, yes! I love crossovers, so this is tough to answer. I'll go with a more recent one, "the better part of valor," Mercy Street/The Last of Us, though I have also used Sesame Street as an AU frame for Mercy Street characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! (Ditto to @tortoisesshells)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Maybe 1? I don't get a lot of offers and feel a bit proprietary, since I can't read it to see how well it's translated.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

You betcha! Shout-out to the Mansion House Murder Party and "We run a very tight ship" the Cruise Ship crack-fest that @fericita-s and @sagiow and I boarded during a phase of the lockdown.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I guess I'd have to say Mary Phinney/Jed Foster based on the number of fanfics I've written for them, but I don't really play favorites. I have a real fondness for every pairing I write, including the ones with the OC characters I write for @tessa-quayle.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Maybe this will change the course of history, but "what it means to be a thin crescent moon" is sort of hanging out there. I have some ideas for how to wrap it up but need the time and the mojo, which is harder to come by. I'd also like to get back to my zombie road-trip GLOW AU "Music shall untune the sky" but it's tough because that would be purely for me at this point.

16. What are your writing strengths?

(I hope) Witty banter. Strong female characters who have flaws. Description with plenty of sensory details. Use of quotations, math, and chess gambits :) A pithy drabble.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I find plot the least interesting component of writing fanfic and I think it shows. I love to read long-fic, but I struggle to sustain it. The words "so" and "just."

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mostly stick to endearments or short phrases. I'm not fluent in any other language and no one needs to discover the various ways Google Translate has let me down.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Mercy Street. I started writing late at night after a work conference, literally drifting in and out of consciousness to lower my inhibitions enough to get started. It was a fic related to a WIP I loved and had written to the author about, so it was very relational.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

What is this, Sophie's Choice? I can't pick a favorite. I'll say I look back with great fondness on my Little Women/Mercy Street crossover "What thou and I did, till we loved," which features Marmee and the Star Trek Kobiyashi Maru Mercy Street crossover "It had the virtue of never having been tried," because like I said, I do love a crossover! Honestly, when there are over 800 fic, I'll admit to have forgotten I'd written some of these :)

Tagging: @asteraceae-blue @orlissa @vesperass-anuna @oldshrewsburyian, @ladamedusoif @trulybettyand anyone else who wants to take this out for a spin!

#my fic #I should also point out #in the world of crack-fic crossover AU #I have crossed over Shadow and Bone #with the Great British Bake-Off #Noel Fielding and Aleksander Morozova have a chat

6 notes · View notes

fencesandfrogs · 3 years

Text

cloudtail’s daughter: cinderheart

alright well third character: cinderheart.

i'm going to be honest, i don't care enough about cinderheart to have a lot to say about this. i'm finishing it in the morning, and i'm starting it in night, so watch this be longer than dovewing's (fat chance i wrote like 4k words about dovewing because, and i can't say this enough, i lovewing dovewing), but i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment.

ohhh wait i changed my mind this is the one where i get to talk about cinderpelt again, isn't it? yeessss i take it all back i've been waiting to write this since i first wrote cinder back in dovewing's character

anyway as per usual, this is part of an au where dovekit and ivykit are born to brightheart and cloudtail. go ahead and click the cloudtail's daughter tag if you want to see more about this. this is probably pretty dependent on knowing what happens to dovewing in the au, but i'd say compared to lionblaze, its still more self standing because it's significantly more verbose, so it's not reliant on filling in the gaps as much, because this is filling in the gaps.

[3k words, 10 minute read. section headers. a little bit jumpy.]

section one: cinderpelt and cinderkit --- an exposé on reincarnation

you don't need me to tell you warriors reincarnation is weird. to make my life easy, here is how it works:

true reincarnations -- jay's wing/jayfeather, dove's wing/dovewing, lion's roar/lionblaze. only one soul exists. half moon will reunite with jayfeather. or ig he can decide to go by jay's wing. dovewing and lionblaze may or may not regain their memories on death; it's not important to this story so i'm not decided

starclan induced reincarnations -- cinderpelt's soul gets shoved into cinderkit. they now share. this was, ah, very dangerous, because cinderkit and/or cinderkit's soul could have died. but she didn't. as cinderkit grows into her own person, she and cinderpelt will grow either increasingly intertwined (i.e., cinderpelt weaves into cinderheart, and is never fully awakened.) when they die, idk what happens. it's not very nice.

luckily, that didn't happen. instead, cinderheart grows apart and cinderpelt basically is a voice in her head. eventually, at some point, idk, cinderpelt frees herself. i'm sure i'll figure that out in this post, but i don't know yet.

so that's their deal.

section two: cinderheart and lionblaze

alright, cinderheart and lionblaze are not going to be a conflict thing, because of destiny. i'm just, that's. well it's a step up from the standard romance drama, but i still hated it. so anyway, cinderheart knows lionblaze is in L-O-V-E with her, but she's kind of holding out until he's more mature/responsible.

she's also not ready for kits, and that's the only way a warriors romance can be officially codified.

jk, but in seriousness, they're already close, similar to sandstorm and fireheart in books 2-4 or so of TPB. she's just not ready to take him as a mate yet, and he's kind of funny as a bumbling fool. that said, she does care a lot about him and if he pushed her, or circumstances pushed her, she'd be willing to be upfront about it.

cinderpelt is happy cinderheart is finding love, but she does kind of wish it wasn't with lionblaze. not because he's an idiot, after all, cinderpelt had a crush on fireheart before he finished growing a brain, but because she is worried about the prophecy. and lionblaze dying and leaving cinderheart alone. so cinderheart has some internal conflict about this, but she has internal conflict over whether she wants thrush or mouse some days. side effect of having two souls in one body. she keeps it wrapped up because she's pretty sure she's into lionblaze and cinderpelt is unsure, and she doesn't need to confuse the situation anymore.

yeah, by the time this series begins, cinderheart and cinderpelt are really two separate entities, and cinderpelt is getting ready to leave. she's just sort of waiting. it's until cinderheart and lionblaze confirm they're mates. why? because that's when it happens in the original and i can't think of a better time. also, it kind of completes cinderpelt's small crush on fireheart.

(it really wasn't that big. sandstorm just made a big deal out of it because she was jealous.)

section three: dovepaw

right, so cinderheart is hype for dovepaw. the dovepaw is real sweet and quiet and cinderheart feels good about that. so they're excited.

cinderheart and dovepaw go out for territory and cinderheart is like "she's on top of shit this dovepaw" and dovepaw catches a mouse or two and cinderheart is super proud and supportive and everyone is happy.

and then cinderheart starts to feel like she's failing dovepaw, because dovepaw just can't get anything else down. lionblaze and ivypaw, on the other hand, are having basically no issues. so she feels like she's failing dovepaw, and she's a little insecure about that, so cinderheart and dovepaw tag along with lionblaze and ivypaw a lot.

as you can guess, this makes everything worse.

cinderheart realizes dovepaw is sneaking out at night and is like "well this is a problem i'm not equipped to deal with" and frets over it for a while, unsure of who to talk to without geting dovepaw in trouble. (lionblaze also snuck out as an apprentice, he's an unreliable source.)

so she doesn't tell anyone at first, just makes sure dovepaw is still getting sufficient rest for a young cat. (she isn't.) eventually, she lets it slip to hollyleaf who talks about it with lionblaze who ivypaw overhears, but ivypaw is the last character i'm covering in this set of essays.

dovepaw gets trapped in the tunnels for three days, and cinderheart feels like she's failed her charge. also, brightheart is kind of mad at cinderheart because she feels that cinderheart didn't really do anything to stop dovepaw from feeling like she needed to prove herself and like, brightheart's not wrong, but it's also unfair to cinderheart. so cinderheart blames herself a whole lot because dovepaw is dead now and it's her fault.

when dovepaw gets back cinderheart only barely punishes her, and dovepaw has had enough exploration, so being confined to camp is only barely a punishment anyway. cinderheart vows that she's going to do better, do right, by dovepaw (although she's really been doing pretty okay no one is really blaming cinderheart, even brightheart has gotten over it now that dovepaw is back and safe and alive.)

section four: can you hear what i hear?

so when dovepaw gets back, cinderheart takes her out once she's recovered, and dovepaw is like "so where are the creatures with the clicky-clackies?" and cinderheart has no idea what's going on.

but cinderheart, despite being lumped in the "two braincells" category that the first three pov characters have (seriously if you haven't read my breakdown of this au as a whole you may want to because i've written so much for it that i'm definitely skipping details. now that my pace has slowed from "about 10k words in one weekend" to "2k words a day" it's better but still), is not an idiot. she's seen the lake get smaller. times are getting hard. there was a gathering while dovepaw was in the tunnels that cinderheart went to and it was real rough. so she's like. hm. maybe. dovepaw is starclan chosen or something? it would explain why she's spacy all the time.

cinderheart gets all the info she can from dovepaw and then has to figure out whether she's taking this to firestar or jayfeather.

i'm not 100% how this resolves, but eventually, cinderheart and dovepaw go to firestar to discuss the beavers. cinderheart does most of the talking, dovepaw is just kind of there nodding along.

so the standard canon thing happens and they all get ready for the trip. i feel like i've done a pretty in-depth breakdown of this for dovewing, and hollyleaf will get one too, so i'm just going to say, other than hollyleaf also coming, it's pretty much canon.

section five: the tribe

oh man it's the cinderheart book and whoo boy am i excited for this one.

alright alright alright so dovepaw is doing the Late Nights again, but its to see tigerheart. so cinderheart is uh, not very aware of it this time?

dovepaw is older and smarter (barely) and more importantly knows she can’t get caught again.

so dovepaw real tired, real close to tigerheart at gatherings, and cinderheart is like “hm maybe something is up” and cinderpelt is like “yeah keep an eye on that”

(an aside: so cinderpelt’s presence is kind of a nagging one in cinderheart’s life. it’s not that she’s not the same cinderpelt we know and love, but she’s a kind of omnipresent authority figure, so she reads a bit differently. but she’s still our wonderful cinderpelt. no fear.)

and ivypaw tells lionblaze that dovepaw is sneaking out (see here for lionblaze, literally 0 awareness) and he tells cinderheart and cinderheart is like “well that checks” and cinderpelt is like “hm remember fernpaw and dustpelt”

“ferncloud is like a second mother to me no i don’t know the details of her romance”

“yea well...”

you know, cinderheart's almost worried dovepaw is going to have kits real soon after becoming a warrior and there are approximately 0 thunderclan toms she's close enough with for that to be applicable.

(for the record, they are not that close. cinderpelt is concerned not just because forbidden romance, but also because of how young leafpool was. not impossibly young by any means, but still fairly young.)

so then through uhhh who knows memory? convenient stormfur is convenient? haven't decided yet, but anyway, cinderheart decides the tribe can help them. (the real reason is because i want the tribe to solve a clan problem for once. the stated reason is probably something like "dovepaw feels too much pressure after the beavers" or "long journeys are good for apprentices" i mean look brambestar dgaf about where warriors are going so why should i?)

lionblaze and ivypaw come along and cinderheart is like "great i just told this guy that i don't want to change anything between us until i'm done mentoring dovepaw and now he's tagging along with this? where's a hollyleaf when you need her?"

(hollyleaf is living with her ghost boyfriend, cinderheart, she is no longer a reliable source of buffering between you and lionblaze. also, cinderheart, this isn't coming up in this au because again ending in step with canon but please consider: lesbians.)

anyway, the four of them set out and dovepaw and ivypaw still aren't talking which is getting really old, really fast.

eventually, after a day or two of travelling in basically silence, ivypaw and dovepaw do start to talk again. one goal down. (my conviction that travelling books are good, actually, remains untested, but i'm determined to prove it.)

okay, so i've been reading all my notes in detail as i start actually drafting this, which means my essay content is morphing further into writing notes. you can tell because i'm skipping bigger sections, or adding notes about purpose in story, etc. this is just a warning that since i last worked on this, i've actually begun writing the book this stuff takes place in (the first book only matters if you're dovekit or ivykit, so the fact that i'm writing it doesn't really have an effect. i just wanted to start with something low-stakes.) so like, on one hand, i should have more figured out, but on the other hand, my comments are going to be a lot looser and i wouldn't be surprised if i just straight up contradict something i already said (i do edit my posts but not heavily and only if i think they're something i'm going to point people back towards. i'd rather point people to my archive once i start posting, so.) anyway, this is just a warning for this and anything else in the CTD essay series (hollyleaf, jayfeather, ivypool, as well as the books, growing shadows, fading echoes, distant whispers, and whatever the canon names are but switch book 4 and 5), that it's going to be less "here's a summary of what i'm going to do" and more "here are my thoughts about what i'm doing"

right that note aside, the travelling party makes it to the mountains. there's drama, probably? none of them have been to the mountains IIRC? i know jayfeather has but i don't think the others went with him (bramble did? hm i'll have to research) but okay so the point is, they make it to the tribe as the mountain is getting colder and this is where i have to deviate from my trend of realism the most because they're going to stay on the tribe for much longer than they should. my timeline has ivy/dove born in leafbare at the beginning of the season (easier math), so this is early-mid leaf fall, and the mountain would be unpassable really soon. but i don't want that, so we're going to pretend they have 2-3 moons before it's truly impassable, or the story flows a lot worse because i really want the drought to be in green leaf because it just sets up a hard hitting winter which is a good tension/drama fodder machine.

unfortunately, i'm limited in who i can kill off, but what can you do?

right so anyway, they're in the tribe and cinderheart present dovepaw and stoneteller is like "huh ig this could work sure why not" and dovepaw is enlisted to be a tribe to-be. she's not given an offiical whatever the tribe word for mentor is, (does the tribe have individual mentors? i can't remember off the top of my head), but she's more or less the same as any othet tribe to-be. the fact that she's so fluffy is a bonus. keeps her warm.

cinderheart is less at-home in the tribe, but she works with the prey hunters and generally gets along. i'm not sure. maybe she makes friends? (this is literally her book she definitely does interesting things i just don't know who lives in the tribe off the top of my head. her life does not revolve around dovepaw like 100%. she has to sort out some cinderpelt stuff in this book it's just very internal and i'm not entirely sure how it goes yet.)

so cinderheart and dovepaw are doing their thing for a bit. they get a good chance to explore tribe culture. it's good. everything is good. cinderheart is still definitely mentoring dovepaw, but what that means right now is a lot of modeling how to be a good learner, rather than explicitly teaching. cinderheart herself is preparing and thinking about how to transfer these skills to thunderclan.

uh yeah so anyway it's getting close to winter so they gotta head out, and the tribe is like "off u go food is tight in leafbare/whatever-they-call-winter" and the four of them set out.

okay so i'm going to skip to cinderheart's second book, because honestly, arc one narrators all get thrown in BGCH until they're needed in arc 2. (i mean, tbf, jayfeather has done literally nothing in all of arc one. nothing. he's just there, occasionally being like "no firestar, don't make dovepaw my apprentice!" and that's pretty much it.)

and basically so while jayfeather and hollyleaf are off having ghost romances (that's the entire plot of their book it's ghost romance), cinderheart and lionblaze are just having a relationship. dovewing and ivypool are warriors now, so cinderheart does have background drama of being worried because dovewing is still seeing tigerheart ("we took her on a whole mountain vacation and she's still obsessed with him?"), but like, it's very chill for a while.

and then sol comes back.

oh man, sol comes back and it's gonna be a big deal. yeah. it's a big deal for cinderheart, and hopefully this will be an interesting section, because cinderheart is a very different character from the OG oots crew, and she's going to handle problems in a different way, and this is the first chance we get to see that. the beavers don't count she was j chilling with whatever dovepaw said and the tribe is certainly a good example of her character (caring, resourceful, outside the box), but that's the set up. sol is the pay off.

so cinderheart is pleased by sol, but also generally wary. you gotta remember, cinderheart has been on a lot of extra curricular field trips. she's met a lot of cats. (note to self: include more loners.) she's a quick judge of character. and sol, you know, he's a lot.

so she keeps an eye on him, and she expresses her concern to hollyleaf, and hollyleaf is like, yeah, sure, i'll help.

so hollyleaf is like "so by the way, sol is in the tunnels." and cinderheart is like "this is going to be a problem" and cinderpelt who is now in starclan is like "oh she's finally learning."

so i'm not entirely sure on the details here because i haven't plotted out the ending three books in nearly as much detail (i mean on the blog i have but in my head where i keep all the plot lines i haven't) but cinderheart is going to solve the problem and she'll do it in a different way.

thunderclan definitely still learns to fight in the tunnels because they need to for battle purposes. (oh, to be a windclan tunnler, looking down in sadness from starclan about what my clan has lost.)

and yeah leaving cinderheart here because she retreats to BGCH after completing her duty of being a meanful character.

cinderheart? done.

#lionblaze #dovewing #ivypool #hollyleaf #cinderheart #cloudtail's daughter #mine #q #txt #27th #February #2021 #February 27th 2021 #essay #long #lovewing dovewing #not really but also yes #28th #February 28th 2021

4 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 3 years

Text

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 7 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: blackmail, bc Reynolds, though not for cheating bv I made Alex a decent person lmao. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was looking forward to the debate team. Arguing with his classmates was fun of course, but none of them could really match his wits and he hoped that the debate team would bring a challenge.

Luckily, or unluckily, he was not disappointed. There was another kid, tall Afro-American, introduce himself as Tom Jamesson that was on his team.

They shared opinions about the state of the economy, but their solutions were so different that it had soon turned into a screaming match to each other, while the others just witnessed their verbal tennis match with a horrified fascination.

It was only three meetings later that Alex realized he was looking at the reincarnation of Thomas Jefferson.

Tom, as he was known now, had quoted the Declaration of Independence at him like Jefferson had done in the past. Alex didn’t know if it was that or the cadence of the speaker that forced him to make the connection, but when he did, he had to force himself to not react.

He had not yet figured out if Jefferson had made the connection to him or if the other did not remember himself, but he didn’t really want to find out.

Somehow he had taken a liking to Tom. In this world they shared more opinions, though their approaches were still on the opposite sides of the spectrum, and he was a fun debating partner when the future of Alexs career and the country didn’t depend on the debates.

Tom was better than Jefferson and Alex wasn’t about the ruin the sort of friendship they had built up. So, he kept his mouth shut and tried to avoid using obvious Hamilton-esque phrasings as much as possible, even if it was difficult and he slipped up more often then not. It was hard not to fall back in old routines.

It was easier to keep suspicions of his back in his classes. Aaron was the only one going into law as well and he wasn’t about to create a stir between them, afraid of having Alex remember the duel that had gotten him killed.

As far as he knew the others had only taken the Revolution course last year for History credit, but Laurens was going to do medicine, while Herc was becoming a tailor again, though more fashion-y, and Laf was doing something with international relations. He had also gathered that Tom was doing architecture.

So, he was quite surprised to come face to face with Angie, or Angelica, in an economics class. She had sat down next to him and raised brow as she pointedly said: “You never showed up again after the party, not even with your friends.”

He looked at her like a deer in headlights as he answered: “Well, uh, we’re not really friends anymore, but are they doing alright?”

“I suppose, they are sad about you leaving, so care to explain why I have three heartbroken men that I have to listen to?” she asked.

“They were acting all weird about someone I don’t even know.” he told her the best lie he could come up with on the fly and a story she could confirm with Peggy, god was he glad for Peggy right now.

Angie wasn’t entirely convinced, so he added: “They all knew each other from another life and apparently also a guy named Alex, it was weird that they looked at me expecting someone else. I just needed to get away from it and then it was awkward. Besides, you punched me.”

That didn’t satisfy her completely, but enough for her to let it go and focus on the lecture. Leaving Alex a stressed mess as he prayed for himself to survive this course.

In hindsight it was a bit of an overreaction, but Alex was never known for being anything other then dramatic, so he let it slide.

It seemed Angie was still as sharp witted as always and she was a great study partner. It also seemed she had taken his words to heart, or maybe she just didn’t trust him to fuck over Eliza again, because she didn’t force him to socialize with anyone he’d known.

Instead they debated economic plans and compared notes. He would show up tired with two coffees and she’d force him to eat something in the morning classes.

They had a system that worked.

Not that it surprised Alex much, they had always been close. The musical had interpreted their friendship as romantic, but that had never been the case, they just clicked. And if there had been anything between them, that was now gone as she excitedly told him about her girlfriend.

It was good to have a friend like Angie.

She wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit and after the years apart with her in London, she also wasn’t the most likely to recognize him, especially with how he adjusted his behavior in econ classes.

Alex still had a lot of opinions and the whole class knew, but he would wither when Angie send him a look during his tirades and leave it be.

Though, if later a smash dunk on said wrong person showed up in the school paper that Alex wrote for, or an essay about that weeks topic under his name, well, then that was his own business.

Life was actually going well for a change, which was why it should not have come as a surprise when it fell apart again.

He was working in the library when a guy came up to him. Alex thought he was a year above him, though he did not know his name. At first he pretended he hadn’t seen the other coming and tried to focus on his reading.

“Hello, Alex Hambleton, right?” it didn’t work, “I’m James, James Richardson.”

Should the name have send alarm bells ringing? Probably. But Alex was tired and hungry, so blissfully unaware he replied: “Yes, that’s me. Can I help you with something?”

“That depends on how badly you want a secret to be kept.” James told him.

The blood seemed to freeze in Alexs veins as he tried to remember where he had met this James character before and how the other could know who he had been. He was almost certain he had never seen the other and, as far as he was aware, he hadn’t been careless.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Alex said, trying to play it cool, hoping his many years in politics had helped his poker face.

“Really?” James replied, as he nonchalantly leaned on the table, “I wonder what the board will think when they find out you’ve fucked yourself into the accelerated courses. Was Washburns dick as good as the girls theorize?”

“What?” Alex chocked out, this was not what he expected.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” James said, “Every Sunday you go out, you go to Washburns home and I’ve checked and apparently his wife is away on a case. He’s all alone and you just happen to visit each week.”

Mama M had been on a long case for her top client, who had sadly moved to the other side of the country, but none of them had thought to stop the Sunday Dinners, while she was away. And Alex was certain Washington had written that letter based off his skill, not his past.

He knew this, because he had asked him about thirty-two thousand times and read the letter himself about twice as many. And on top of that he had also gotten letters from his other professors, just in case.

James had nothing, just the fact that Alex had gone over to the Washingtons while Mama M was away, and that was pretty damning if you didn’t have the whole story.

“Not only that,” apparently James was taking his silence as guilt, “but I have also heard someone say that they’ve seen you with Washburn in his vacation home in Virginia over the break, while his wife was having tea. And before that, you got a hug, not very subtle, I have to say.”

He got out his phone and showed Alex two pictures. The first was of the hug by the car, the other of him leaning against Washington while he typed, Mama M cleverly cut out and the next one of them in the garden under the fig tree with lemonade laughing. They looked comfortable, and it was really up for debate how they related to each other based off the pictures alone.

“Those prove nothing and what you are saying isn’t true.” Alex argued.

“I think the board would disagree.” James replied.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alex said, “You’ve got nothing and I did nothing, now leave me alone.”

“I will.” the dramatic pause was unnecessary in Alex opinion, “For a price.”

“Do I look like I have money to pay you hush money for something I didn’t do?” Alex couldn't have stopped the eyeroll if he’d tried.

“Maybe you don’t, but Washburn does.” James said, “Heard his wife was rich. Wouldn’t that be something, your precious Washburn paying hush money for an affair with his wife’s money. You just had to get laid, didn’t you.”

“If you want him to pay, why are you threatening me?” Alex asked.

“Because his little boy-toy will be more convincing then me. Maybe you’ll get on your knees to beg him to pay me, keep you in the little program you love so much. Maybe you’ll even cry.” at this point it was just sadistic.

“Neither me nor Washburn is going to pay you, fuck off.” Alex was pretty done with this.

“Well, then I hope neither of you are interested in a future career.” James said, “Hope you have a great excuse ready, or my money. I want 20.000 dollars on this bank account by tomorrow, you have till 8 AM.”

He slid over a piece of paper to Alex with the number of his bank account, before sauntering off like he hadn’t just blackmailed Alex in public.

Alex pinched his nose and tried to think. At this point he regretted not expanding his friend circle, because he could really use the support right now. There was already an idea forming in Alex’s mind, but he couldn't do it without permission of Washington.

Cursing he packed his bags, it seemed Sunday Dinner would be early.

Mama M tried to convince him to threaten James back with a lawsuit after he had explained the whole thing, but Alex just sighed: “He’s not going to budge, if we do that he’ll just think he’s right and push even more.”

“And we can take legal action against him.” Mama M argued.

“But the damage will already be done and we’re too late.” Alex countered, looking guilty at their slumped shoulders, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”

“And why would you say that, son?” Washington asked.

“I knew it was a bad idea to get acquainted with people I’d known in my past life, but I gave in and now I’m dragging you down with me.” Alex explained, “I saw it coming, but I still let the comfort blind me. So, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that, dear.” Mama M said, gathering him up in a hug, “We’re just as guilty if you reason like that.”

“But-”

“No, no buts, Alexander.” Mama M told him, “We all made out own decisions and we have to face the music. We’ll make it through, don’t worry.”

“So, is that a yes?” Alex asked, unable to say anything else to that.

Mama M shared a look with Washington, who sighed, then nodded. She turned back to him and said: “Yes. We can still take legal action after that, if the issue doesn’t get resolved.”

They gave him some food and a lift back to campus, where Alex opened his laptop.

He had so much work to do and he needed to do it fast, he needed to be quicker than James, needed to save both himself and Washington, the only person he had ever willingly followed.

When he was done, the light was shining through the window and there was apprehension in his whole body.

He decided to text Angie, hoping she would understand. She’d always understood.

To Queen Angie [6:15]: Remember that punch?

To Queen Angie [6:15]: I might need a new one and I deserve it

To Queen Angie [6:16]: But pls be here for me this time

Alex clicked post and prayed for the best as he crawled under his covers to hide from the world, for once grateful for the quiet and glad Aaron wasn’t home. This was it, the moment of truth.

From Queen Angie [7:52]: Alex?

From Queen Angie [7:53]: Alex??

From Queen Angie [7:53]: Alexander?????

From Queen Angie [7:53]: God fucking dammit you asshole

That morning Columbia University woke up to a breaking news story.

#RR writing #Hamitlon AU #hamilton #hamilton the musical #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #george washington #martha washington #angelica schuyler #james reynolds #I Wrote My Own Deliverance #I Wrote My Own Deliverance Chapter 7 #tw: blackmail

1 note · View note

fics-not-tragedies · 5 years

Text

A lesson to teach me: Part One

one - two - three - four - five

I know how all of you waited for this parted fic, but my thirsty bitches deserve a special dedication: @keanu-fics; @keanuchillz; @fanficsrusz; @pkg4mumtown & @mikaneonox - darlings, this is for you! Professor!AU or you can call it the University!AU. @keanumarvel threw in a request for it, so here you go hun!

SUMMARY: Keanu, your English professor, writes on your essay that you have to see him after class, which leads to few surprising things. Words: 2998; Warnings: smut;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @sparrowsparrow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @derangedcupcake; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @drunkonyellow; @semtempoirmaoo; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @a--1--1--3; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry;

See me after our lecture. Those words written on the essay you submitted before the due date and the bold ‘F’ written in juicy red ink right next to them made your heart beat faster. You gripped the sheets in your hands, almost wrinkling the paper. He couldn’t fail you. This was the last, crucial paper you had to write before your final exam and if he failed you it means that you can’t do that exam, which means you weren’t graduating.

There were still 15 minutes left of the lecture and you noticed how he was eyeing you from behind his desk, speaking to the whole room, but his gaze was focused only on you. There was something dark in it and it felt like he was trying to undress you with his eyes.

Of course there were times you fantasized about him while you were listening to his dulcet voice. Everything about him was mesmerizing: the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he was gesturing in his hands… oh yes, his hands! You could imagine him touching your naked body, fingertips sliding down your naked back, gently grazing your hips… you’d love to feel his large hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing it, as he fucks you roughly on the huge wooden desk in his office.

People around you were gathering their things and walking out of the auditorium. You got so consumed in the filthy images that ran through your head that you barely noticed that, snapped out of them when the doors closed behind someone with a loud thud.

He was sitting by the small desk placed by the blackboards, writing something down in his calendar. You were almost right in front of him and since the auditorium got all empty now, except for you two, you could finally stare at him without being given weird looks from your colleagues.

His hair was slightly messed, like the wind got a hold of it when he was on his way here; he was focused on whatever he was scribbling down now, his nose scrunched, the lines on his forehead visible. The neatly trimmed beard on him looked stunning and you wish you could touch it or feel it tickle your skin when he’d kiss you.

Suddenly he moved his gaze to you, your body shuddered a little, face turning red instantly, “Miss...” he spoke your last name softly and you felt obligated to do the same.

“Professor Reeves” his last name rolled off your tongue in such a manner it almost sounded filthy to you and you noticed how he raised his eyebrow, probably thinking the same.

“Please call me Keanu” he stood up from the chair and slowly moved closer to you, his leather boots clicking on the overly-polished floor.

“Professor Keanu…” you blurted out as he was almost in a hand reaching distance, leaning onto the edge of your desk with his both hands.

“No. Just Keanu, please” the way he said ‘please’ was turning your guts upside down and you just couldn’t stop staring at his hand firmly gripping the edge of the wooden plank that was the only thing between you two, well except from the obvious sexual tension of course.

“Erm, sure, K-Keanu…” when you looked up at him, leaning back in your chair, he couldn’t hide the smirk that crept on the corners of his mouth.

“I asked you to stay after the lecture, because it’s our, almost, final meeting and there are few things I’d like to discuss with you” he rolled the sleeves of his baby blue shirt, the slight tan on them being a great addition to his look and wetting your lips you glanced back and forth between his face and his gorgeous arms, “and I bet you are quite curious why you get ‘F’.”

Keanu reached behind him, taking his notebook and his glasses. He put them on and you couldn’t help but gasp a little, upon hearing the tiny sound that left your mouth he looked at you for a second, before looking down to his scribbles, flipping the pages to find the right one, a big smile on his face.

“I don’t feel like my essay deserved ‘F’ since I submitted it few weeks before the due date and also I poured my heart into it-” he silenced you raising his hand into the air and you bit your lower lip, placed your hands onto the desk and entwined your fingers together taking a deep breath.

“You’re right, your essay was outstanding and it absolutely deserves an ‘A+’” he recited and you just shook your head in disbelief.

“Then why you gave me ‘F’ then?!” you raised your voice slightly and he leaned closer to you, glasses sliding slightly from his nose, his eyes locked with yours.

“Because I wanted to tease you, like you’ve been teasing me all the time” he fixed the glasses then firmly gripped his notebook, “I never actually kept a secret diary about any of my students in my whole career, but there’s something about you, little girl…” what did he just called you... “She likes to stare, a lot; fancies deep necklines; puts the end of her pen inside her mouth, probably thinking about my cock; juicy lips, looks great in glittery red lipstick; overall: she’s a tease” he read and you were happy to be sitting, because your knees got weak, “It’s about you, little girl and it’s just one percent of everything I wrote about you.”

You swallowed hard, his stare piercing right through your body, “Well then…” leaning forward to him you placed your hands under your chin, “perhaps you should give me ‘D’” flicking your tongue across your lower lip you saw his reaction, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. He threw the notebook back onto the desk and moved closer to you, your faces inches apart from each other.

“Perhaps I should give it to you now” he grazed your juicy lower lip with his finger, smearing your lipstick a little, before he firmly pressed his mouth to yours.

When you jumped up to a standing position he placed his hand on the back of your neck, pressing you closer, cupping the side of your face with his free hand. That damned desk being an obstacle between you two, so you just crawled atop of it, wrapping your arms around Keanu’s neck, pressing your chest flush to his.

“I think…” he panted a little after he drew back from you, “I think we should move it to my office, someone might catch us here.”

“Oh yes, absolutely!” you were unable to form a coherent thought, the lingering taste of his mouth left you absolutely breathless. After jumping off your desk you gathered all of your things, put them inside your backpack, waited for him to pack his stuff into that leather briefcase he always carried around with himself, then followed him to those doors that had his last name on them.

In a hurry he unlocked them, pulling you inside, switching on the light, throwing his briefcase onto the floor, his lips back to yours in the moment they closed behind you two. Stumbling to his desk he held you tightly in his arms, fingers tangled in your hair. When he slid his tongue inside your mouth you gasped, tasting the coffee he drank in the morning and the tobacco from the cigarettes he smoke right before your lecture.

“You’re such a tease, little girl” Keanu touched your neck sliding his hand down too your deeply cut neckline making you purr, feeling the touch of his large hand.

Suddenly he froze, as you heard quick footsteps approaching his office, then stopping right outside his door.

“Get under my desk.”

“Wha-…”

“I’ll explain it later, little girl” he ran around his desk, sitting onto the chair, gesturing to you that you should do it quickly. You tiptoed to him and crawled under the wooden desk, he pushed his chair further forward and towards it, making you move further underneath it, “Just place be silent. I promise I will explain everything to you later.”

When you were about to say something, the doors opened with a loud thud. You identified the steps as heels clicking on the floor, much more aware of them from where you were now, trying silently to adjust your uncomfortable position under the big piece of furniture.

“Does something happened?” he asked, shifting when the door shut, implicating that the disturber was here to stay and you sank further under the desk, pressing yourself against the other side of it.

“Since we’re close to the end of the final semester, I thought I should talk to you...” female voice explained, the woman took few more steps that suggested she decided to sit down.

Your eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness under the desk now and you looked up at Keanu sat in his comfortable leather chair with his legs spread slightly, covered with those tight suit pants, that were making you insane every time you looked at them, straining over his thighs, a visible bulge right below his belt. He wasn’t hard, but you weren’t surprised that it was visible nonetheless, he probably was hiding a good piece of cock there.

As you shifted slightly, lifting your body from the floor slightly, trying to adjust your sitting position, until you were placed right between his legs and you could tell he was trying to maintain his own position, trying not to allow you to do anything to him. You could tell he was aware of your movements, but there was really nothing he could do in this situation.

You reached up to push his legs further apart, the sudden movement making him jump and he covered it up instantly with a clear of his throat, “I see...” he leaned forward slightly trying to prevent his body from those things you wanted to do to him now.

But he was powerless now, the silent resistance of his wasn’t going to help in any means.

“I know I haven’t really had the chance to get closer to you, but I feel like it’s my final chance to tell you about my feelings.”

Perfect, now a professor whom you luckily didn’t knew was about to confess her love to him, while you were trapped under his desk.

“I think I am in love with you, Keanu” the woman blurted out.

You closed your hand around the bulge in his tight pants without a second thought, making his knee fly up against the desk top.

“Oh, f-fuck” he drawled. “Fuck, Janet, I had no idea.”

“Well, I could’ve told you about it earlier, but I felt like I shouldn’t and you know...”

“I don’t feel like it’s the right moment to talk about it” he growled through his gritted teeth.

You dragged your nails along his inner thighs, then placed your both hands at his belt buckle and he tried to push his thighs together, but he was met with the resistance of your elbows, unable to use more force without raising the woman’s suspicion, sat too close to the desk to slip his hands underneath it.

He was tense.

And after you undid his belt buckle with ease, it felt like there was nothing else that could stop you.

Janet sighed, “Keanu…”

“Please, not now. We can talk about it when the semester ends.”

Not making a sound when you kept massaging him through the fabric of his trousers, was your main focus. His hips were bucking involuntarily against the touch of your hand, his breaths becoming more hitched in his throat.

“It’s because you have someone, Keanu?”

He sucked in a breath, his hand slamming down on the table when you pulled down his underwear enough to free his now slowly hardening length from its restraints, “N-No…” he groaned, his voice shaking, “I mean, y-yes, I-I mean no.”

“Well…” she said, clearly irritated but not letting that stop her, “I wish we could get closer”

“Oh, yes, right...” he drawled again, coughing it off, merely speaking to disguise his reaction.

You took the opportunity to wrap your hand around him, giving his length few slow tugs. His whole body was tensed up, pouring all his strength into appearing unfazed by your actions, to not raise the woman’s suspicion.

But the truth was that you only just started.

“I still think that we should talk about it when the semester ends” his dulcet voice was now surprisingly steady, his fingers shaking slightly and he pushed himself back, making you stretch your arm but it still wasn’t enough for him to slip his hand under the desk and do anything. You were now steadily stroking him, he knew that you were only building him up slowly.

“But why you want to wait?”

He swallowed hard, for a moment it broke his self-control and you used that moment to adjust your sitting position, lifting your body onto the knees and steadying yourself with one of your hands sprawled out on his thigh, nails digging into it, using the other hand to guide him into the warmth of your mouth.

His reaction was everything you, in fact, hoped for, his hips instantly lifted off his chair to push his cock deeper into your hot mouth, he breathed out shakily, coughing again to conceal it again, his legs shaking slightly as he tried to compose himself.

“F-fuck, well...” he muttered, biting his lip, “I’m not really a fan of work affairs.”

Your tongue was swirling around him, hand pumping at the base when you couldn’t hold him all the way in your mouth, head bobbing up and down.

His eyes threatened to flutter shut and he forced them to stay open, his whole poise threatening to falter now. “I will talk to you after graduation ceremony.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long...”

Keanu didn’t wanted to argue, he couldn’t, his hips almost snapping forward automatically now as you took him deep into your mouth, held him there and swallowed around him and he gripped the edge of the desk, trying to play the moan that was threatening to fall from his lips as a groan of annoyance, “It’s not that long…”

He was struggling to breathe evenly, tensing now as you held him in her throat for so long, with fingers still wrapped around the base of his shaft, tongue dancing around him, determined to drive him absolutely mad. He knew that your glittery lipstick would be all over him. His legs were trembling, he was getting close.

“I want you, Keanu, I want you so badly…” she got up from the chair, her heels clicking on the floor.

“As I told you: I’m not a fan of relationships in my work environment” he drawled, once again stifling a moan that potentially would’ve been too obscene to cover up.

“I will wait for your call then” she sighed.

Your body tensed and you moved your head back when you felt his hips bucking up again, now only pumping him slowly to keep him on the edge, anticipating the moment he’d snap.

There was no more word uttered before the doors fell shut and Professor Reeves pushed his chair back, not missing a beat, his eyes dark, threatening and you sat on your knees for a moment, holding his glare, then crawling forward, taking merely his tip back into your mouth, suckling teasingly.

“Little girl, what are you doing down there?” he spat out.

You tried to stand up but before you could even take him out of your mouth and move your body just an inch, his large hand came down on the back of your head, firmly gripping the nape of your neck, making you close your lips tighter around him, as he kept himself buried in your warm mouth, “Oh, no, little girl” he drawled, leaning back into his chair, “You have to finish what you started.”

Struggling to breathe, when he pressed his length all the way down to your throat, you protested a little, but it didn’t helped much. He gripped a fistful of your hair and drew back your head away from himself for a moment, hissing loudly when he saw that he really was covered in your lipstick, pushing his cock right back down your throat when you had the chance to take a breath, “I knew you wanted to feel me inside your mouth, but had no idea you wanted it THAT much little girl.”

You were sucking him more eagerly now, since you had more room to move your head, the sounds you made obscene and bringing him closer to the edge, the way he was slipping in and out of your wet mouth making him even harder.

“Please look at me, little girl.”

He didn’t give more of a warning, his hips simply snapped up and his grip at the back of your head tightened, making you whimper around him, the vibrations building him up even more and he came with a loud groan, your name rolling off his lips, as his release filled your mouth, sliding down your throat. Keanu held your gaze and he breathed out shakily when you swallowed around him again. Then he drew back, lifting his hips and tucking his cock back in, fixing his belt.

“Who was that?” you asked him, when you finally could breathe properly. He leaned in to kiss you passionately, his tongue lapping at your lower lip.

“Janet, one of the substitute professor, she apparently loves me” he shrugged a little.

“She loves you, but I was the one sucking your cock under your desk” teasingly you slid your hand across his thigh making him whimper again.

“Oh yes, you were, little girl and you did it perfectly. ‘A+’ for the cock-sucking skills and another ‘A+’ for your essay.”

376 notes · View notes

bruciewayne · 5 years

Text

nothing else matters

Steve had been stealing his clothes long before they moved in together, hell, long before they were even dating. But he can’t ever remember his baby ever wearing his hoodie.

fluff, smut, 1890 words

[ao3]

Bucky had just come back from a long day at the university, Clint had already put up the horrific combination of Halloween and Christmas decorations that stay up in the office until at least January 14 (currently it smelled like pumpkin spice and cinnamon, there was precious little time until it would begin smelling like ‘Christmas’ and non of the heaters would work) and it was dark by the time he had locked the door of his and his boyfriend's apartment behind him and hung up his keys on the hook next to Steve’s. He let his bag fall to the floor, teeming with essays to mark; he loved teaching collage kids, lord knows they’re better than high-schoolers – no matter what age you were, high school was hell – but damn, they wrote a lot, and went to find Steve.

Bucky found him in the kitchen, at their table with papers upon papers with red, green and blue numbers and graphs and Steve’s horrendous chicken-scratch all over it in purple (his boyfriend was an artist by trade, there was no doubt about that, and he loved him, undeniably, but he couldn’t read it at a—

Steve was wearing his hoodie.

Bucky froze, half in the doorway, half in the kitchen. Half illuminated by the soft, yellow light, half shrouded in darkness.

“Hey Baby.”

“Oh hey Buck,” Steve turned around and fuck he was wearing his glasses. Bucky knew that he hated them, Steve said that they made him look ‘nerdy’ and that ‘no one would trust a half-blind tattoo artist’ but Bucky thought they looked downright adorable.

“Watcha’ doin’,” he asked, falling into his accent more, smirking little when Steve’s eyes widened.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself under control because they’ve been together for six years dammit, Bucky’s fucking voice should not have that much of an affect on him anymore but fuck it still does.

However, Steve knew how to play to his strengths. Bucky had a huge possessive kink (he wasn’t sure if he was aware of it or not, but it was definitely there).

Steve shrugged his shoulders, seemingly nonchalantly, making sure the hoodie – Bucky’s hoodie – slipped a little, exposing part of his collar bone and neck, showing off a faint purple hickey from two nights ago and the chain of Bucky’s dog tags.

“Finances,” he said, finally, standing up and twisting the rest of his body around to face Bucky. He lifted his arms up, asking a silent question. Bucky immediately complied, stepping forwards in two long strides and wrapping his boyfriend up in his arms.

“Love you,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky smiled into his hair, “I love ya too, Stevie.”

Steve pulled back slightly to stand on his tiptoes and kissed Bucky. Home, finally.

The kiss turned frantic, dirty and hot quickly. Bucky swiped his tongue across Steve’s bottom lip, asking for permission, which he was immediately granted, Steve opened his mouth more for Bucky’s tongue to lick and prod every inch of it.

Steve groaned when they pulled back for air. He looked utterly wrecked; his hair was a mess, his glasses were askew, his lips were red, shiny and spit-slicked and his pupils were blown wide. All from a kiss.

“Fuck, Stevie, you look so good,” Bucky said, tilting his head to trail kisses down Steve’s neck, biting and licking at the old mark, “in my hoodie, those fucking glasses, marked by me, wearin’ my tags.” Steve tilted his head back to give Bucky more access, he bit harshly at a new spot on his collar bone making Steve gasp “Buck…”, he licked at the spot and kissed it softly, smirking at the bruise already forming.

Bucky pulled Steve up and kissed him again thoroughly, taking and taking and taking, swallowing every little gasp and moan he made, “Want you, Buck.” Bucky slid his hands lower until he reached Steve’s perfect ass, he kneaded it between his fingers, pulling a groan from both of them.

Suddenly, Bucky picked Steve up, his hands securely on is ass and Steve’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms around Bucky’s neck. He carried him to their bedroom with minimal bumping (they were never gonna get that deposit back on their apartment), he flicked the light on and dropped Steve on his back on their bed, “I want to fuck you, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice borderline growling, “Baby, I’m all yours,” Steve said breathlessly, “all yours.”

Their hands were frantic, running up and down backs, arms, biceps, hair. Their clothes were coming off, fast, jeans, shirt, undershirt, but when Steve reached to pull off the hoodie he was wearing, Bucky stopped him, “I want to fuck you in it,�� Steve moaned at that, “Then get on with it,” Bucky bit his shoulder, “Bossy,” Steve looked up at him through hooded eyes, his pupils dilated so much, his irises were mere blue slivers and gasped when Bucky bit his shoulder again and licked at the mark.

Steve ground up against Bucky, their erections, trapped in their boxers, rubbing together, making both of them groan. “These,” Steve said, “off,” Bucky immediately complied, pulling back to tug his underwear off and lifting Steve’s hips to pull his off as well.

They stopped, staring into each other’s eyes for a beat, before Steve rolled them over, managing to do it more by surprise than actual strength, so he ended up on top. He began kissing and licking and biting down Bucky’s muscled torso, leaving a wet trail of bruises, reaching his cock and stretching his lips around the tip. Bucky let out a shout and slipped his hands into Steve’s hair, pulling a little, making Steve moan around his cock, sending vibrations up his spine, “Fuck, Stevie.”

Steve made it all the way to the base of Bucky’s cock, his nose hitting his stomach, when he pulled off, making Bucky groan, he said, “Buck, can I ride you,” “Fuck, Stevie, baby, yeah,” he pulled him up for a fierce kiss, biting his lip, almost drawing blood, making Steve moan, loudly, barely muffled by Bucky’s lips.

Without breaking their kiss, Bucky reached blindly for the lube of their night stand, knocking over something in the process (he didn’t really care right now). He manoeuvred them so he was sitting up against the headboard with his legs spread slightly and Steve was sitting on his thighs, his legs straddling Bucky’s waist.

Bucky opened up their bottle of lube, one handed, with a click and slicked up one finger, trailing his hand down to Steve’s crack, he teased his hole. Steve let out a high-pitched moan and arched his back, trying to grind down on his finger. “Bucky,” he whined, “I will, baby, I will,” Bucky reassured him, kissing him softly, pulling away when Steve tried to make it deeper and dirtier. He kissed him on the cheek, then, pushed his finger in slowly, first, second, third knuckle in and pumped it in and out of Steve.

Steve let out a loud moan, “More, Buck, please,” he begged, Bucky complied, sliding a second finger in with the first, scissoring and bending them then—

“FUCK, Bucky,” Steve yelled when Bucky grazed his prostate, moving his hips to try and get Bucky to move faster and harder. Steve was almost constant noise, most of it coherent strings of ‘fuck’ ‘Bucky’ ‘more’ and ‘harder’, some of just moans, god he was beautiful.

When Bucky added a third, lubed finger, to make sure he was thoroughly stretched, Steve closed his eyes and tried to ride his hand, Bucky stilled him, “Ah, Stevie, you’re so fucking desperate, baby, tryna’ ride my hand, can’t wait for my cock, can ya, sugar,” Steve let out a sound, half moan, half Bucky’s name, at Bucky’s words and that fucking accent.

He gasped at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing when Bucky took his hand out to lube his cock, he moaned at the friction and at the bruising kisses Steve was biting and liking down his neck, unable to keep his hands (and lips) off him.

Bucky held onto Steve’s hips and helped him kneel up, his hole hovering above his cock. Steve held onto Bucky’s shoulders, both of them groaning in tandem, as he lowered himself down, until Steve was fully seated on Bucky’s cock.

The only sound in the room for a few seconds was their breathing, in time. They kissed, sweetly, and then Steve began to rock up and down slowly on Bucky’s cock, pulling deep, low groans from him.

He built up speed until he was bouncing up and down, his thighs tensing and his hole clenching, his sweaty hair flopping all over the place. He was constant noise, all of it an incoherent mess of curses and moans and whines and Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t doing any better than Steve, he was quieter than him but he was still constant noise, little huffs and groaned and an innumerable amount of pet names and nicknames for Steve.

Bucky rolled them over when he noticed Steve slowing down a little, his breath coming faster, so he was on top, Steve was on his back, boxed in by Bucky’s arms, folded in fucking half as Bucky pounded into him relentlessly, hitting his prostate with every thrust.

Steve was overwhelmed by Bucky, he was wearing his hoodie, he was on top of him, boxed in, Bucky in him.

“Buck, Bucky, ah, I’m cl-cl-fuck-close,”

“I know, baby, oh fuck you’re so tight sugar, oh fuck, I know,”

“Bucky!—

“Fuck, Stevie, baby!”

They both came, Steve a loud, incoherent mess of Bucky-Bucky-Bucky all over Bucky and his hoodie and Bucky inside of Steve, filling him up.

Bucky collapsed half on top of Steve, not completely as to not crush him, half twisted in the sheets. “I love you, baby, I love you,” Bucky panted, pulling out of Steve, watching his come trickle out of his puffy hole, down his thighs. “I love you too, Bucky, so goddamn much,” Steve replied, winding a hand through his hair, wrapping it around his fingers.

They stayed like that for a while, time meaningless to them, then Steve wriggled around, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “You’re possessive kink is hot, Buck, but I’m hot in this,” Steve said, answering Bucky’s questioning look, “I know you’re hot in’it, baby, tha’s why I ask’d you ta’ keep it sugar,” Bucky laughed, slurring his words a little, not even attempting to dodge the hoodie sleeve Steve slapped his way.

“Shut up, Buck,” he said, still smiling, throwing the hoodie somewhere onto the floor, on top of Bucky’s shirt, smearing come onto the shirt, welp, Bucky thought, he wasn’t wearing that shirt to work again.

Bucky tugged Steve back down, wrapping his arm around his waist and kissing his forehead when Steve cuddled into his chest.

Steve was the very personification of the rain cloud emoji, on many days and to many people, but he was always, always, cuddly and soft after sex, and Bucky loved it, he loved him so fucking much it hurt sometimes. He knew he was making ‘heart-eyes’ (as Clint was ever-so-fond of saying) down at him but he could’ve bring himself to care, because, when Steve smiled up at him, mirroring his ‘heart-eyes’, nothing else mattered.

#fluff #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #smut #fanfiction

1 note · View note

katemarley · 7 years

Text

Fanfic Asks!

I was tagged by @gummyboots.

Why/how did you get into fanfiction?

Even before I was actually able to write, my granny and preschool me made up our own stories about things we had watched together on TV and about fictional adventures of the dachshund that belonged to my granny’s friend. I suppose that’s how I got into fanfiction? I didn’t know it was fanfiction at the time, of course, and neither did my granny. It was just something that we did. I only learned there was a thing called “fanfiction” when I was, like, 13. At that time, I wrote two Ranma 1/2 fanfics I sent to my penfriend, but that was about it for quite some time.

Why did you get into writing?

Honestly, I have no idea. I just ... sort of started to write my own stories as soon as I was able to hold a pen. Perhaps it was because I liked the stories, fairytales and such, that my granny and my parents had either read to me as a preschooler or made up for me before I had to go to bed; perhaps it was because of the stories my granny and me had made up together. I’ve just been ... writing stories ever since.

How long have you been writing?

See above. Ever since the time I was about five, six years old.

Do you think you’re a good writer?

I think I both see some of the aspects that are okay at the moment and some that still need improvement in my writing while I don’t see others in which I’m either good or bad. That’s where constructive criticism comes in handy!

Do you think you’ve improved?

Yes. Definitely. I mean I was a five-to-six-year old when I started writing and I’m a twen now. It’d be extremely sad if my style, lexis, and intellectual range hadn’t improved since that time!

Name one thing that helps you write

I suppose most people will say “music” here, but since I love writing Historical Hetalia and historical AUs, I’ll mention something else: My uni’s library, access to digital essays and such via my library account, and Google Books. Nothing is more useful than a good history essay/book, even more so if it is searchable via keyword search.

Have you ever gotten hate related to fics?

Yup. I’ve written a story called “(De)Fences” in September 2015 in which Austria and Hungary talk about refugees. Some Hungarian nationalist who called themselves “Attila’s Nation” felt the need to tell me among other things, and I quote: “You’re not a Hungarian citizen, you know nothing, so sweep before your own door, and shut - the - hell - up about our business!”

Well, I’m a citizen of the European Union, so I was minding my own business. And even if I hadn’t been: There’s something called “freedom of speech”... As for “shut the hell up”: About one month later, I got the idea for “Remember That You’re Not Alone”, another story that touches upon the same topic and in which Austria and Hungary are main characters. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Fanfiction or books?

Both. It’s all just stories. There are both books that are written extremely well and fanfics that are written extremely well, just like there are badly written fanfics and books that make you wonder why the heck that got published.

Do you want to professionally write? If not, what would you like to do/what do you do?

I’d love to see some fictional book I wrote get published one day (and by that I don’t mean self-published; I’m just not willing to pay any money for that), but I don’t have any intention to attempt to pursue a professional career as a writer of fiction. We’ll see. If it happens, then fine; if it doesn’t, that’s also fine. I actually don’t want to post what I’d like to do in this moment of time even though I know what that is. Right now, I’m still a student.

Have you ever been published professionally?

I’ve done an internship at a local newspaper once, and the articles I’ve written for it got published. No idea if that counts. Anyway, that was the time I decided that certain aspects of community journalism are definitely not for me.

What is your favorite story/ies you’ve written?

I’ve already answered this here, actually.

Why is it/are they your favorite(s)?

See the link above.

What is your least favorite story/ies you’ve written?

I don’t like anything I’ve written under the age of 16 anymore, but I never posted any of that stuff online. 😉 Among the stories that I posted, it’s “Autumn Roses”.

Why is/are they your least favorite(s)?

The idea of taking “On Monsieur’s Departure” Queen Elizabeth I wrote about the Duke of Anjou and using it to mirror Hungary and Austria’s situation at the end of 1918 was better than the actual realisation. Too much poem, too less story.

What is something you expect from a fanfiction?

I ... don’t expect anything? I just hope it’s well written and the characterisation is all right.

How do you feel about troll fics?

If the person who writes them does it properly, they may be extremely funny. If they’re bad at trolling, troll fics can be pretty lame. It’s ... sort of contrary to the idea of a troll fic, I guess, but there’s a brillant one in the SatW (Scandinavia and the World) section on fanfiction.net: Click at your own risk.

What is your favorite writing style?

I don’t have any. There’s a huge variety of great writing styles, from using indirect speech in order to convey irony (that’s what Daniel Kehlmann does in “Measuring the World”) to flamboyant and flowery writing that is great as well (Oscar Wilde, for example).

Do you write things for the sake of popularity?

If I was, I’d certainly not write historical SpAus fanfiction in the Hetalia fandom. 😂

I write things because I want to write them—because there are some ideas I just need to get out of my brain. I share my stories with others because I believe there might be a few people out there who enjoy reading them. If somebody tells me they like my stories by leaving kudos, likes, and sometimes even comments, I’m very happy! But I’d never write a story I don’t feel the need to tell just because I think it might get popular.

My impression is that longer Human AU stories with popular pairings like USUK, FrUK, and Spamano (those are the current Top Three in the “Relationship” tag on AO3) get most of the attention in the fandom. Well, I prefer sort of a “foster father and wayward son” relationship for APH England and APH America as well as for APH Spain and APH South Italy. APH England and APH France are frenemies with a tendency towards enemies in my opinion. That’s why you won’t get any USUK, FrUK, and Spamano fanfics written by me.

Do you think fanfiction is a good way to get into writing?

Writing is a good way of getting into writing. It doesn’t matter what you write. All right, you should write fiction if you intend to improve on writing fiction, of course, essays if you want to become good at writing essays, etc.

Reading helps a lot, too. It both broadens your vocabulary and your awareness for different styles of writing, different ways to make up plots, etc.

What is something you like about the fanfiction world?

There are no boundaries, no limits to the human imagination. You’ll find literally anything.

What is something you dislike about the fanfiction world?

Just that. 😉

Also mpreg (I just ... always loved biology as a subject, and mpreg is biologically impossible), A/B/O (except for the occasional fanfic that manages to twist that trope into an struggle-for-independence story, such as this one), and soulmates AUs (I’m a multishipper, so this idea is disturbing to me).

Just for fun!

What is a pairing you’re currently shipping?

SpAus, PruAus, and AusHun in the Hetalia fandom.

What is something canon you’ll never ship?

Honestly, I don’t have any idea what to write for this question at the moment.

What is something fanon you’ll never ship?

There are lots of ships in the Hetalia fandom, to stick only to this, that I’d never ship because I see the relationships of those characters differently from the people in the fandom who ship them. Sticking to one of the examples I already mentioned: APH Spain and APH Romano will always have kind of a foster father/foster son sort of relationship for me. I just can’t bring myself to see them as a couple. APH Austria and APH Switzerland are cousins to me who squabble a lot with each other, but deep, deep down, they care for each other a lot because they’re both relatives and childhood friends.

In conclusion:

Any writing advice?

Just two basic things: 1. Read a lot and pay attention to how the plot is structured, what kind of writing style the author uses, etc. 2. Keep writing. Attempt to try out different writing styles, plot structures, etc. Skill comes with practice.

What is something a writer should always remember?

It’s just fiction.

An important thing to remember when someone (whether a professional author or a fanfic author) writes something about a character you love that you don’t approve of. 😉

It’s just fiction.

I tag (and of course you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to)

@salytierra @ilaaer

#gummyboots #personal #fanfiction #writing #//thanks for the tag!#i love talking about fanfiction and the fandom <3

2 notes · View notes

bruciewayne · 5 years

Text

nothing else matters

skinny!punk!tattoo artist! steve, atstrophysics professor!veteran!bucky

fluff and smut, stand-alone, 1.8k, explicit

Steve had been stealing his clothes long before they moved in together, hell, long before they were even dating.

But he can’t remember his baby ever wearing his hoodie.

read on ao3

Steve was wearing his hoodie.

Bucky froze, half in the doorway, half in the kitchen. Half illuminated by the soft, yellow light, half shrouded in darkness.

“Hey Baby.”

“Watcha’ doin’,” he asked, falling into his accent more, smirking little when Steve’s eyes widened.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself under control because they’ve been together for four years dammit, Bucky’s fucking voice should not have that much of an affect on him anymore but fuck it still does.

However, Steve knew how to play to his strengths. Bucky had a huge possessive kink (he wasn’t sure if he was aware of it or not, but it was definitely there).

“Love you,” Steve murmured into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky smiled into his hair, “I love ya too, Stevie.”

Steve pulled back slightly to stand on his tiptoes and kissed Bucky. Home, finally.

Steve tilted his head back to give Bucky more access, he bit harshly at a new spot on his collar bone making Steve gasp “Buck…”, he licked at the spot and kissed it softly, smirking at the bruise already forming.

Suddenly, Bucky picked Steve up, his hands securely on is ass and Steve’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms around Bucky’s neck.

He carried him to their bedroom with minimal bumping (they were never gonna get that deposit back on their apartment), he flicked the light on and dropped Steve on his back on their bed, “I want to fuck you, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice borderline growling,

“Baby, I’m all yours,” Steve said breathlessly, “all yours.”

Steve moaned at that, “Then get on with it,”

Bucky bit his shoulder, “Bossy,”

Steve looked up at him through hooded eyes, his pupils dilated so much, his irises were mere blue slivers and gasped when Bucky bit his shoulder again and licked at the mark.

They stopped, staring into each other’s eyes for a beat, before Steve rolled them over, managing to do it more by surprise than actual strength, so he ended up on top.

He began kissing and licking and biting down Bucky’s muscled torso, leaving a wet trail of bruises, reaching his cock and stretching his lips around the tip.

Bucky let out a shout and slipped his hands into Steve’s hair, pulling a little, making Steve moan around his cock, sending vibrations up his spine, “Fuck, Stevie.”

Steve made it all the way to the base of Bucky’s cock, his nose hitting his stomach, when he pulled off, making Bucky groan, he said, “Buck, can I ride you,”

“Fuck, Stevie, baby, yeah,” he pulled him up for a fierce kiss, biting his lip, almost drawing blood, making Steve moan, loudly, barely muffled by Bucky’s lips.

“Bucky,” he whined,

“I will, baby, I will,” Bucky reassured him, kissing him softly, pulling away when Steve tried to make it deeper and dirtier. He kissed him on the cheek, then, pushed his finger in slowly, first, second, third knuckle in and pumped it in and out of Steve.

Steve let out a loud moan, “More, Buck, please,” he begged, Bucky complied, sliding a second finger in with the first, scissoring and bending them then—

Steve let out a sound, half moan, half Bucky’s name, at Bucky’s words and that fucking accent.

The only sound in the room for a few seconds was their breathing, in time. They kissed, sweetly, and then Steve began to rock up and down slowly on Bucky’s cock, pulling deep, low groans from him.

Bucky wasn’t doing any better than Steve, he was quieter than him but he was still constant noise, little huffs and groaned and an innumerable amount of pet names and nicknames for Steve.

Steve was overwhelmed by Bucky, he was wearing his hoodie, he was on top of him, boxed in, Bucky in him.

“Buck, Bucky, ah, I’m cl-cl-fuck-close,”

“I know, baby, oh fuck you’re so tight sugar, oh fuck, I know,”

“Bucky!—

“Fuck, Stevie, baby!”

They both came, Steve a loud, incoherent mess of Bucky-Bucky-Bucky all over Bucky and his hoodie and Bucky inside of Steve, filling him up.

Bucky tugged Steve back down, wrapping his arm around his waist and kissing his forehead when Steve cuddled into his chest.

#stucky au #stucky fic #fluff and smut #fluff #smut #fic rec #my writing #my fic #nhw writes

1 note · View note