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caicie · 8 days

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Dick stared at the ceiling fan. It spun, slowly but surely turning, ever ignorant of the world around it. It spun, regardless of the ribbon tied on the third blade, regardless of the breeze blowing in the window, regardless of the winter chill almost making his breath visible. The ceiling fan spun and the world spun and Dick couldn’t comprehend it.

The front door opened. Footsteps pattered into the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room where he was laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling fan. The footsteps stopped for just a minute, before walking over to the window and sliding it shut. The lock clicked into place and a hand reached up to turn off the fan. Dick waited until it ceased any and all motion before tearing his eyes away from it.

“Have you eaten?” Tim asked.

Dick pried his mouth open, ignoring the awful taste that spoke of dehydration, “I…”

Tim waited a minute before accepting that was all he would get in response. He nodded, turned around and walked out of view. Dick watched him go with a pit in his stomach. A fourteen year old shouldn’t have to do the things him and Bruce made Tim do. Tim was too good. Too young. Too innocent. Except he wasn’t innocent because Bruce was breaking him and Dick was letting him and they were poisonous vines, weaving their way into Tim’s life, sucking the life out of him. Just like they did with Barbara. Just like they did with Jason. God, Jason. His baby brother, who was scared and suffering and died, all without Dick knowing.

“Dick,” Tim nudged him with a foot. Dick blinked, registering the water bottle and microwaved food in Tim’s hands. When had he had time to do that? Dick blinked again and he was sitting on the couch, food on his lap and opened water bottle in his hand.

Tim handed him the lid and a fork. “Drink and eat.”

Dick mechanically took a bite. Then another. Then a sip of water. He turned to look at Tim. His eyes were clouded and bruised, with his lip sporting a bloody cut that made Dick want to cry.

“Bruce?” Dick asked, voice raspy.

“Locked in the cave.”

Dick hummed, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Tim’s. He pressed his lips into the side of Tim’s head in the mockery of a kiss, trying not to remember doing the same thing to another little brother.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

Tim ducked a little to slide into place perfectly cuddled up against Dick’s side. “‘S okay. It’s always hard on the anniversary.”

Dick’s eyes watered. “It’s not okay, baby bird. You shouldn’t be…” looking after two grown men just because they can’t get their crap together.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said again.

Tim pressed closer. “Okay.”

Dick closed his eyes and thought absolutely nothing was okay.

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underwhelmingalchemist · 2 months

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Happy Out of Touch CAtWS Anniversary Thursday

#i wanted to write a fic but i have zero writing energy #so here you go #stucky #catws #captain america #captain america edit #captain america the winter soldier #catws anniversary #catws10 #catws edit #steve/bucky #out of touch #out of touch thursday

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months

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Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #disco elysium #MDZS Disco Elysium AU #So sad I didn't manage to get this comic out on the 15th (pd-mdzs's 8 month anniversary and DE's 4th year anniversary) but I'm here *now*#I have a very extensive and detailed MDZS Disco Elysium AU that I am Not Normal About.#I've seen a few other people point out the potential in a crossover (true) but they make the mistake in having it be set in 51!#A true crossover would take place closer to The Antecentennial Revolution!#Disco Elysium did not go that hard on its cool lore for people to only make surface level crossovers!!!#One day I'll write the fic or post my notes. I don't know who would read it but it tickles *my* brain and that's enough.#No spoilers for DE (here or in comments (please)) but please consider....Magpie Wei Wuxian B*) On his way to be an innocent.#I do think there is a good chance a chunk of the MDZS readership would enjoy DE but...it's also not a game I easily recommend #It's more of an experience you have to marinate over. It's dark in ways that are off putting to some people.#It makes you feel like a very bad person all the time. It gets extremely personal if you allow yourself to be honest in your answers #and it's also the game that saved my life. My life was truly forever changed after playing disco elysium.#If I recommend it to people it's a badge of the trust I have in you to appreciate something dear to me B'*)#If you decide to play: PLEASE go in as blind as possible. You will regret spoiling yourself.#edit: this is based on real disco elysium dialogue. HDB has many canon kinks but this is not one of them

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campingwiththecharmings · 3 months

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Can't Hold Back

AN: Hey y'all! This is kind of an unofficial sequel to Down Time, in the sense that I was thinking of while writing but made no actual references to it lol. ANYWAY. This was written for @triplefrontier-anniversary! Hope y’all enjoy 🥰

(Un-beta’d)

You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,554 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: Very light on the plot here lol, friends (who are secretly in love with each other) with benefits, p in v, a smidge of angst then cliche fluffy fluff (please let me know if i missed anything). AO3

——————

Santiago fucks into you, his thrusts slow and deep, his body draped over yours as you cling to him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to stifle your moans. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan as he loses himself in your warmth. He mouths at you, his tongue dragging over your sweat-slicked skin before coming to rest just below your ear.

“Feel so good, cariño,” he slurs, his voice low and raspy. “Feels like heaven when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt clenches at his words and he grunts, his movements stuttering slightly. Your chest heaves in an effort to stay quiet, knowing your friends are sleeping just on the other side of the thin walls of your shared vacation rental. They didn’t know about you and Santi, didn’t know that you’d been secretly fucking for months, didn’t know that you were head-over-heels in love with him.

To be fair though, Santi didn’t know that last bit either.

Your arrangement had been fun when it started, had scratched the proverbial itch, but as time had gone on, you’d started to want more. The sex was great, but you hated when it ended. Not just because it was over, but because one of you always left. That had been part of the arrangement: no staying the night. So you didn’t, he didn’t, and you ignore that ache you feel in your chest every time he rolls off your bed and starts putting on his clothes, ignore the queasiness that roils in your belly when he leans in and kisses the side of your head gently in goodbye, ignore the way your heart cracks as the door to your apartment clicks shut and you’re left in silence, alone.

You’d been planning to tell him, tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore, that you wanted (needed) more, more with him…but then he’d started kissing you and every other thought had flown right out the window. So here you were, writhing in pleasure beneath him as he played your body like a well-loved instrument, willing yourself to stay quiet so as to not alert the rest of your friend group. You shiver, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers the filthiest things. The sound of his voice, coupled with his words, pushes you higher and higher, and you whimper softly as you near the edge, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

Santi shushes you gently, pulling back a little to watch you, his dark eyes heavy and blown wide with lust. Your gaze locks with his, and you swallow hard to keep your moans at bay, your lips parting and releasing a soft, strangled sound. He pulls his lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring as he breathes hard through his nose, his body moving steadily over you.

As you watch him, the moonlight illuminating him from behind like an angel, you’re struck with the urge to cry. No, not just cry, full on sob. You can’t go on like this, having him but not having him. You want more, you deserve more…but you’re worried. Worried about how ending this will affect your friendship, that you’ll have to put up with seeing him date other women (or worse, that he won’t care when you start dating). You want to be present, be in the moment, want to enjoy yourself if this really is to be the last time. Even so, you can’t stop the tears as they slide down your cheeks, can’t stop the weight pressing on your chest, can’t stop the fracturing of your heart. A strange combination of euphoria and sorrow war within you, and you can’t do much more than ride it out, can’t do much more than cling to him like it’s the last time you’ll ever hold him (because it likely is).

He must notice your crying because he suddenly leans in, whispering comforting words that don’t really register in your brain as he kisses away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours, pushing you closer and closer to your peak, grinding his hips into yours and making you see stars.

You whimper softly as you come, your body shaking, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure washes over you. Santiago leans in, smothering his moans in your neck as you squeeze him, pulling him closer to the edge until his body stiffens, his sticky warmth coating your inner walls. The urge to wrap yourself around him, to keep him with you, keep him inside you, is so strong, but you resist, knowing it won’t make a difference.

Santi pulls back, smiling softly as he gazes down at you. You try to smile back, thankful for the darkness of the room as it means he can’t see the tears that are still leaking from the corners of your eyes. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks and pauses, his lips twitching down when he feels the wetness there.

“Estás bien, cariño?” he whispers, his eyes quickly darting over your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head, willing your tears to stop falling.

“I’m okay,” you say, forcing a smile, “Just emotional, I guess.”

He grunts, and you can tell he’s not buying it. You never were very good at lying.

You do your best not to look at him for too long, knowing the longer he looks, the more likely it is that he’ll see, see it all, everything you’re trying to hide, trying to bury. Just when you think he’s going to let it go, you feel his hand cup your cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your cheek.

You try not to, really you do but, when it comes to Santi, you just can’t help yourself.

Your resolve crumbles the moment your eyes meet his, the words you’ve held back all these months spilling from between your lips like water from a broken dam. Tears blur your vision so much that you can’t really tell what effect your words are having on him, but you suppose that it doesn’t really matter in the end. You can feel yourself spiraling, your chest heaving with barely suppressed sobs, when Santi’s finger presses against your lips halts your descent.

“Did…you just say you loved me?” he asks softly, his voice and face unreadable.

Icy dread slices through you at the question. Had you said that? That you loved him? You don’t remember, but you must’ve, right? You panic, stuttering as you try to explain, your brain racing a million miles per hour as you search for the right words…but it turns out you don’t need them.

Santiago stops your lips again, this time with his own.

You’ve kissed him a thousand times before now but, somehow this time it’s different, this time it feels different. He takes his time, his kiss somehow both gentle and deep, like he’s pouring everything he has into it. He pulls away before you can kiss him back, a faint glimmer of something unfamiliar shining in his eyes when he meets yours again.��

“I love you too,” he rasps, smiling down at you softly.

Your eyes widen a little, searching for the truth of his words in the darkness. “You do?”

He chuckles, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I do.”

You exhale sharply, a relieved laugh slipping from between your lips before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth in surprise as Santiago’s smile widens, his eyes shining. You spend the next few hours wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing, content to just be.

You wake hours later to the sun streaming in through the windows and Santiago’s warmth at your back, your still-naked bodies tangled in the sheets and blankets. His arms are wrapped loosely around you, his face pressed into the back of your neck, and you can’t help the mix of relief and giddiness you feel knowing it wasn’t all some crazy fever dream. Your eye lashes flutter as sleep tries to call you back, the warm tendrils reaching for you, pulling gently—

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat drags you back to full consciousness.

Your head snaps toward the sound, your widened eyes meeting amused blue ones.

Santi stirs behind you, sighing softly as he presses a kiss against the base of your neck and rasps, “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” Benny responds, a smug smile on his lips as he takes in the sight of the two of you tangled in each other.

You feel Santi pause briefly before turning to meet his gaze.

“Breakfast is gettin’ cold,” Benny continues, suggestively pumping his eyebrows as he backs out of the room, leaving the door wide open.

Benny walks back to the kitchen, his footsteps thunking loudly against the wooden floor of the house as he calls out something about the other guys owing him a hundred dollars.

Santi snorts behind you, pushing his face against your shoulder as he dissolves into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“Guess we should go deal with that,” you chuckle, looking over your shoulder at him.

He smiles, his eyes shining with laughter as he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “Guess we should, cariño.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia smut #triple frontier write-a-thon #triple frontier anniversary #my fic

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offside-the-lines · 4 months

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tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs. They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends. Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

🎵 Series Playlist 🎶

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

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nsharks · 1 year

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i just wanted to say i love your writing so much and i really enjoy following simon and y/n’s relationship! i honestly feel as if you have come up with the most accurate characterization of ghost (through both dialogue and his actions) i have ever read these days and its heart-wrenchingly beautiful to see how he opens up and softens gradually over the course of all these different moments of their relationship. im glad someone else requested the beginning of their relationship (i was curious myself!) but if i could request maybe what y/n’s birthday or an anniversary would look like? what Simon would do as a romantic gesture👀?

simon can be romantic in his own way

You’re almost certain Simon didn’t know it was your one-year anniversary.

Why would he? The date of when he asked (or rather, demanded) that you be his girlfriend wasn’t something the two of you brought up or wrote down in a calendar somewhere.

And he’d been so distracted lately. Didn’t give you the details, but there was some terrorist who had been evading their efforts for almost a year now and sometimes you found him sitting at his desk with a bunch of files, caught up in it all despite being at home.

“The whole point of a break is to not think about work,” you’d tell him, pouting and vying for his attention.

“Hard not to,” he’d grumble and sigh. “You wouldn’t understand, pet.”

So when you do wake up that morning of your anniversary, you’re not surprised that Simon doesn’t mention anything about it. You sort of tiptoe around him, going about your day as usual.

He goes to the gym.

You do some work from home.

There’s a few kisses here and there and he tells you that you look cute today, says he likes the way you’ve put your hair up. But there’s no flowers or breakfast in bed or planned dinner date. Even if he did remember, you couldn’t imagine Simon doing any of those things.

It’s later that evening, when you’ve busied yourself with cleaning up after dinner, that Simon comes up behind you.

You’ve almost forgotten about your anniversary at this point, not willing to get upset about it, when he wraps his arms around your waist from behind.

Dipping his head to the crook of your shoulder, he mutters, “Did ya know that you’ve been mine for a year now?”

Your chest tightens. You nearly drop the plate in the sink. “Oh. Is that so?”

He hums quietly. “A year ago. Do you… did you remember that?”

He sounds almost hesitant. Frowning, you turn around in his arms and place your hands to his chest. “Simon… Of course I remembered. It’s technically our anniversary, you know.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans and clears his throat. “So ya did know, then? I thought you forgot.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “No, I didn’t forget. I thought you forgot.”

“You haven’t said anything ‘bout it.”

“Neither have you!” You almost want to laugh. Instead, you rub your temples and sigh. “We’ve got to get better at communicating.”

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to… do anything for it,” he says slowly. And you realize that you’ve been a bit unfair; of course Simon wouldn’t know. He had never done this sort of thing before and romance isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

You’re about to tell him it’s okay, that it’s your fault, but then he ends up telling you, “But I’ve got something for you.”

The admission is surprising. He got you something? You could count on one hand all the gifts Simon has gotten you during your relationship. You feel your cheeks warm up at the thought, but you don’t have the chance to question him.

“Close your eyes,” he requests, and you feebly comply.

Not able to see, you feel his rough hand grab yours and tug you in the direction of what you’re pretty sure is the bedroom. Once you’re there, he gently guides you to sit on the bed and you hear rummaging around through the closet.

“You can open ‘em, pet.”

And when you do, you see that Simon is standing before you with a small, plain box in his hands.

“It’s not much,” he warns, but already just the sight of him offering this gift to you, his broad shoulders slung in uncertainty, makes you impossibly grateful.

When you open the box, he sits down beside you to explain each item.

First, a rock.

“This is just…” He is huffing under his breath and pointing to it as you hold it in your palm. “Just a fuckin’ rock. But it reminded me of you. I found it when we were stationed in Austria. I know you like the color purple and I just thought… thought ya might like it.”

On this rare occasion, it’s you who is at a loss for words. You close your palm around the rock.

Not sure what you’re thinking, Simon then reaches in the box to pull out a book. The Sun Also Rises. It’s tattered and clearly been thoroughly enjoyed.

“Read this one back when we were in Prague.”

You take the book from his hands and start flipping through the pages, revealing his barely-legible handwriting throughout it.

“Wrote notes in it,” he explains in a murmur. “Marked the things that reminded me of ya. Hemingway is better with words than I am.”

There’s a few other things in the box. Small trinkets that he’d found over months of deployment. Things that he thought you might find interesting. Things that showed you how much you were on his mind during those times apart.

The last thing you find is a framed photo. Moisture growing in your eyes and biting back a smile, you realize that it’s the only picture you two have ever taken together. Simon wasn’t fond of seeing himself in the mirror, let alone in a photo. It was one you managed to sneak in months ago when you both were laying on the couch. He’s got an arm loosely around your neck and you’re wearing the brightest of glows on your cheeks.

“I thought you threw away this picture,” you whisper, flipping the frame around in your hands as if you can’t believe it’s real.

“I kept it in the closet,” he admits. “But I think… well, maybe we should put it up somewhere now.”

You swallow and meet his eyes. “You’re okay with that?”

Simon nods. “I’m okay with that.”

It seems small. A single picture of you together after almost three years, but it’s so much more than that. A statement of his willingness to push past his discomfort, his fears. Displaying his vulnerability in a frame on the wall.

Roses and expensive dinners couldn’t amount to the love you feel from him in this moment. You place the frame back in the box and lift up his mask to kiss him. His mouth is tense for a moment before it slackens against yours and you end up kissing on the bed like teenagers, touching all over each other and discarding clothing as you try to press all inches of your body against his.

Hands ghosting along the curves of your thighs, Simon pulls away to smirk, “Time for you to give me something, yeah?”

You blush. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, I don’t have any gifts.”

“Shh.”

And Simon is soon shoving off his mask, as he did a lot more these days around you, and settling his stubbled jaw between your parted legs, letting his lips and his tongue show appreciation for the anniversary gift waiting for him there.

You fall asleep at some odd hour after he keeps you up all night, marking his love in the form of soft bruises on your skin and a pleasurable ache between your thighs. The next morning (now that Simon knows that you do, in fact, care about the date he first made you his girlfriend), you wake up to find that he’s already made you breakfast and hung up the framed picture in the living room.

#thank you so much!#I’m glad you enjoy the fics #they are fun to write #this is how I imagine simon being romantic #i do imagine him getting you flowers at some point #maybe next anniversary #simon ghost riley x you #cod #simon riley x reader #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #fluff #fem!reader

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jazzfordshire · 11 months

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I watched the latest episode of Critical Role and then I blacked out and wrote 8k words of emotional smut, so if you're into Imodna I hope you enjoy this tidbit???? God they're so obsessed with each other can you believe

#critical role #imodna #imogen x laudna #Imodna fic #southerngothic #I know it's not DWTS but I needed a little brain break #i'm still writing it i promise it'll be here posthaste #this is my gf’s fault she wanted it as an anniversary gift and I have to deliver

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steviewashere · 6 days

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Uh, I'm dumb.

My one year anniversary of writing Steddie fics was on the 19th and it is *checks watch* the 22nd.

So, uh, happy writing anniversary to me?

Y'all want a single parent Eddie AU tomorrow as a treat?

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #writing fic anniversary #writing anniversary #I have a big brain I swear

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yeommijeong · 1 year

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Set in Sanpo Village where more people leave than remain, the three Yeom siblings, Chang-hee, Mi-jeong, and Gi-jeong, wish to escape from a life rife with uncertainty. A mysterious man, Mr. Gu, moves into their neighbourhood. He is a drunkard with the look of someone with many burdens and secrets. His cautious personality and preference for keeping to himself make him the subject of gossip. Mi-jeong, the youngest and most timid Yeom sibling, decides to approach him.

One year with My Liberation Notes (2022) ✎

#my liberation notes #edit: my liberation notes #editcheenee #kdramaedit #kdramagifs #kdramadaily #kdramasource #asiandramasource #userpinenut #syaring #useraubri #moonlightsdream #haeyeongs #lextag #HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY BELOVED SHOW #this took…… a very long time #but it was worth it because i got to look back on how much i loved my liberation notes #i wanted to write fic for the anniv but i got too busy #but since this is dedicated to the entire show… i definitely need to write something dedicated to gumijeong right >:-)

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bisexualvampires · 3 months

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Live Laugh Leather

happy 3rd wedding anniversary to these idiots :)

(846 words) Also on AO3

Dean knew the rhythm of Cas’ footsteps from the kitchen all the way to their bedroom. Knew it better than the pulse of his own heart; as familiar to him as the scent of the warm coffee that carried with his husband every morning like clockwork. He found himself smiling against his pillow, feeling the early sunshine through the lake house window heat the frosty February air.

So the routine goes; any minute now Cas would pause to bump the door open with his pajama-clad butt, scooting backward into their bedroom, two coffees in hand. Dean would fake the grouchy attitude as if the gentle interruption had pulled him from sleep. As if, minutes earlier, Cas hadn’t waited until his spidey senses told him Dean’s REM sleep was done and he was ready for his daily stubbled kiss at the back of his neck. For the arm that tightened around his waist, sinking suggestively lower until Dean cracked open an eyelid. Falling for the same old trick every day, before Cas would rise his heavenly ass out of bed to start on coffee. Leaving Dean tethered between the land of sleep and this world of dreams.

Same old, same old.

And wasn’t that a hell of a thing.

Dean scooched over to Cas’ side of the bed. The warmth had faded but it was the scent he chased; like rich earth pounded by the heavy rain of a thunderstorm, the charged promise of lightning still to come. Like honey and ether and so like home, Dean could drown himself in it. Smother himself in his husband’s pillow with a smile on his face and a bulge in his pants.

And so, it began.

The gentle clink of the spoon dropped into the sink. The ceramic scuffling on the kitchen countertop. The first bare footstep on the warm wooden floor.

Three years of this, Dean thought, and he knew he could go a thousand more.

A squeaking sound broke the routine, and Dean perked up his bedhead to listen to the audible eye roll and soft sigh that accompanied it. The footsteps and squeaking drew nearer, and Dean propped himself up on an arm to watch the regularly scheduled show.

The ass that greeted him was familiar, but Dean’s eyes bulged out of his head like Donald Duck at the first sight of Daisy. Cas backed into the room, letting the door swing softly shut behind him.

Dean’s husband paused, breakfast tray in hand and a look of genuine surprise on his face that quickly morphed into a feigned innocence.

“Sweetheart,” Dean managed to say with a tongue that now weighed an ACME ton. “Are you wearing leather pants?” He was dreaming, right? Had to be. If the next words out of Cas' mouth were "tell me about it, stud" in Olivia Newton-John's voice that would surely confirm it. A laugh threatened to burst all the way from his belly, born of shock more than anything, because this was Cas. His Cas. In tight leather pants. Like he was Jon Bon fucking Jovi and Dean was eighteen, alone in his motel room and realising some shit.

But Cas ignored the question, setting the breakfast tray safely on the bedside table. When he turned to find Dean’s gaze still locked on his broad thighs, mouth hanging open like it didn’t know where to start, he placed his hands on his hips.

“The third wedding anniversary gift is leather, is it not?”

Dean glanced up from his stupor, feeling his heart swell like a damn balloon at his husband’s words.

Leather. Anniversary. Right.

How Cas heard "leather" and thought "pants"... actually, he didn't need to know how or why, because this was happening. Somehow this was real life.

Dean licked his lips. Didn’t mean to, but he did.

He’d tell Cas about the new leather couch he’d secretly set up in the Cas Cave later. Right now…

“The salesperson insisted this was the perfect gift,” Cas frowned down at himself. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”

“Whuaa-“ Dean started, tangling in the sheets as he struggled to sit upright. “No, no, they’re – hell of a – gotta tip the guy… god, Cas.” Only the need to defend these pants with his life gave Dean the strength to tear his gaze from them a second time.

He’d expected to find that frown he loved so much – the one that crinkled Cas’ brow, and tugged his soft lips into a flat line. Instead, his husband grinned at him, eyes blazing with that smugness that was the bane of Dean’s life.

Son of a bitch. He played him.

“Happy anniversary, Dean,” Cas said, stepping forward to crawl on his knees across the mattress, caging Dean in between his thighs.

Dean pulled him closer, sunlight glinting on the band of his wedding ring as he ran a hand through Cas’ hair. Three years of this. Already three. Only three.

And he could never have enough.

“Happy anniversary, Cas.” The words were a whisper against his husband’s lips.

The rest, he already knew. They both did.

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shorukarts · 4 months

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Happy anniversary wdyw !!

What do you want belongs to the amazing writer and artist @the-writing-mobster

Hope you like it Mob✨❤️✨

Sorry for being late the app crashed 🥲

#wdyw #happy anniversary #the writing mobster #looking for a fic to read?#this one is the best #frans #sans x frisk #frisk x sans #frisk #sans #adult frans #underfell sans x frisk #underfell au #underfell #underfell frisk #underfell sans #hope you like it #shorukarts #❤️✨

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voylitscope · 2 months

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CA: TWS Anniversary Ficlets

Daily ficlets for the CA: TWS 10th Anniversary Event @catws-anniversary. With Huge thanks to @sparkagrace and @cable-knit-sweater for running this wonderful event! 💞

In his bed, in the middle of the night, and all alone, Steve wakes up to visions of Bucky falling. Over and over. A recurring nightmare.

(A memory.)

Inside the walls of a museum, during dedicated daytime hours, surrounded by dozens of people, Steve watches Bucky smile. Over and over. A looped bit of film.

(A memory.)

On a lotta days, seeing those forever persevered few seconds of his life helps. There are days it's soothing — a concrete reminder he can hold on to. There are times he uses the bit of film to prove to himself that happy moments and better times were real.

But.

But on other days, watching that smile take shape is somehow more painful than waking up alone in his too-big bedroom with visions of Bucky falling behind his eyes. There are days when Steve watches and all he can think is about those happy moments being long gone. Times when all he can think is that'll he never see, or cause, that expression ever again.

There are days when it's like a repetitive stab to his heart.

But then, sometimes.

Sometimes, he stares at the looped footage, and he lets himself recall a hundred other smiles. Sometimes, his brain draws up images of mornings in Brooklyn and the way Bucky's smiling mouth had looked only inches from Steve's own face, and —

And that hurts, too.

But Steve replays it in his mind, anyway. Over and over again. A moment from long ago.

(A memory.)

(Ficlets Tumblr-exclusive until all are complete.)

#CATWS10 #SteveBucky #Stucky #Stucky fic #Stucky fanfic #my fic #my writing #(in my ideal life I'm also going to post a TWS anniversary event rec list #and another chapter of my WIP in the next few days)

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elysianholly · 7 months

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Tabula Rasa: Missing Scene

He should have headed right for the door, as that had been the plan, but seeing as it was one of his plans, he wasn’t surprised that she’d buggered it. Or that he’d let her bugger it. Instead of collecting the last remaining scraps of his pride and stalking out, Spike circled the Bronze again. Unable to help himself, useless to resist, because walking away meant leaving her here, and he didn’t want to do that.

Though Christ, things would be so much simpler if he did.

Spike shook his head, angry at her and himself, and stopped just under the staircase. Seemed a decent spot, close enough to get to her if she started looking around for him, far enough away to duck out if the reason she looked was to glare stakes.

Only when he next cast his gaze on the place where she’d been sitting, it was empty. Buffy had lit out.

Bloody figures.

Right. Well, let that be a lesson, then. Spike worked his throat, shoving it all back—love, hurt, indignation—and turned to leave for real.

Only when he did, she was there. Right there. Her eyes soft and wide, reflecting that quiet desperation he’d seen there every night since he’d stopped counting.

“Buffy—”

“Shut up,” she said, seized him by the lapels of the duster, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

And if only just this once, Spike decided he’d do exactly as told.

#spuffy #spuffy fanfic #spuffy fic #buffy #buffy summers #spike x buffy #buffy x spike #spuffy endgame #it's the anniversary of Tabula Rasa #I was asked to write this #idk if the ask was serious but I decided to go for it

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nburkhardt · 1 year

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SAW THIS ON TWITTER AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF STEDDIE!!!! IMAGINE WITH ME:

Eddie walking into the pandora store not really thinking of buying anything, just wanting to get ideas…maybe. He and Steve aren’t quite ready for anything that serious. But someday, yeah definitely someday. He can tell the ones working are eyeing him, most likely due to his clothes. But he doesn’t bother them, too busy looking at the rings so obviously meant for guys. All of them too boring and none screaming at him. Too formal, too plain. It’s as he’s walking out of the store that it catches his eye, he stops dead. Moving towards the glass. They’re sitting next to each other in the same box. They’re perfect, it’s everything; It’s Steve, it’s them. It’s making his heart beat faster. He can see it right now, sees Steve wearing one half and him with the matching.

Someday, he’ll hold the box out to Steve. He’ll slide one onto his finger, kiss him and pulls the other half for Steve to slide on his finger. They’ll be dorks, hold hands to see the rings close.

Until then, he’ll keep the box close and wait for the day he can ask the question; “Will you marry me, Steve Harrington?”

Permanent Tag list under the read more

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas

(If you would like to be added let me know!)

#Eddie Munson is a sap #I didn’t mention it but I see Steve wearing the moon half and Eddie has the sun #steve is also a sap and for their frost anniversary buys a matching necklace for Eddie #I also think they’d get matching tattoos 😌#steddie #Steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #nburkhardt writes #stranger things fic #steddie hc #steve harrington x eddie munson #Eddie Munson fic

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coffeeghoulie · 3 months

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Eternal Heatstroke

chapter 5: til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away (i'm yours)

The last leg of the Re-Imperatour doesn't go quite as expected. But that's alright.

The incredible @ghuleh-recs drew art for this chapter, and I cannot believe I managed not to gush about it for four weeks. (well, I did tell one irl friend. but anyways) Thank you so much, Liss, it is amazing and I've been staring at it for weeks.

The band spends two sold-out nights in Los Angeles. Papa pulls the ghouls aside, a meeting hours before set-up for the first Ritual, gathering them into something like their pre-show huddle.

"I got word from the Clergy. These two are to be filmed," he informs them. "I want you at your best the next two nights. I know it is short notice, but I have faith in you. Perform your best, play it up. Make it look good for the cameras, sì?"

The ghouls all nod, grinning at one another.

Despite having come out of their shell, Aeon's still quiet when they want to be. They perform, play it up, soaking up the audiences' attention, but most of all, they watch.

Read the rest on ao3, or start from the beginning.

#i know #'dot did you seriously schedule posting this fic so the last chapter would come out on the anniversary of your first ghost fic?'#yeah #bite me i'm a sentimental bastard #the swiss/aeon finally comes to fruition #this is the longest fic i've ever finished #and i've spent the last two months obsessing over it #now to find something else to fill my time lmao #there might be some secret fire ghoul!swiss lore posted later if i finish it #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #dot's writing #aeon ghoul #eternal heatstroke #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss/aeon #phantom ghoul #swiss/phantom #nameless ghouls

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walkingstackofbooks · 4 months

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A drabble on Bajoran Time

Or: Why would a Bajoran hour be the same as an Earth one?

Featuring the classic trope, Julian Bashir's genetically enhanced awareness of time.

The most disorienting thing about living on Deep Space Nine was undoubtedly the time. Not for the reasons you might think - Julian was far from the only new Starfleet resident who had heard "26 hour clock" and assumed that would mean Bajor rotated 2 hours more slowly than Earth. But in fact, a day on Bajor was only 44 minutes - well, 44 minutes, 17 second, 592 milliseconds, to be precise - longer than an Earth day.

Which was good, undoubtedly. Julian had been worried about the physical toll that changing to a 26-hour day would have on the human residents of the station, and although a 44 minute difference wasn't nothing, he was certain the effects would have been greater had a Bajoran hour been the same as a Terran one.

But, of course, it wasn't. It made sense, really - in fact, it would be stranger if a Bajoran hour was the exact same as an hour on Earth. Though Julian couldn't help feel that 60 really was a better number of minutes (Because 39?* Really?! A number with only 4 factors?!), it would have been some coincidence indeed for both planets' history of subdividing time to happen upon the same number.

In some ways it was remarkable that the Bajoran system, splitting their days up into teneyru, loiru and kerriloiru**, was so similar to Earth's hours, minutes and seconds. Each teneyn comprised of 39 loiru, and each loira comprised of 52 kerriloiru. It worked out that a Bajoran kerriloira lasted for 1.689 Terran seconds - which for the average person, wasn't hugely noticeable.***

Julian still hadn't got used to 1300 hours being midday, or that his automatic translation of 1700 hours into 5pm was no longer useful, given that the Bajorans had no concept of AM and PM - and even if they did, it would now be an hour out. He would still talk about time using "half past" or "twenty-five to", before catching himself - and realising there was far less of the hour remaining than he had thought! He was, however, beginning to use the Bajoran equivalent more frequently, getting a secret thrill when he told a patient their appointment was at "thirteens fourteen" or "two-thirteens twelve".****

But these were things that most Federation officers were finding difficult - at least, it seemed to be one of the more common grumbles he overheard in Quark's, definitely among his fellow humans. Non-humans were more diverse in opinion; some found the adjustment easy, having already had to adapt to the Terran time that was the standard used on Starfleet ships, while others found it doubly hard to be learning yet another time system.

What Julian was finding most troublesome to deal with was his until-now fastidiously-accurate internal clock. He had developed it when he was 16, wanting to put his memory through a real test, and figuring that if he could remember precisely how long a second was, he would always know the time. While it hadn't been quite as simple as that - he had spent hours staring at the clock on his PADD - eventually tracking the time had become as automatic as breathing, a calculation that his brain kept permanently ticking in the background. During a bout of illness and extreme boredom during his 1st year at the Academy, he'd even fine-tuned it down to deciseconds, although even he hadn't managed to make it more precise than that.

Which was why he was constantly finding himself off-balance in his time-keeping. For 10 years, he hadn't had to think about what time it was, it had just been there, in his brain. And now, even with a Bajoran clock in front of him, or regular check-ins with the computer, Earth seconds continued to tick by in the back of his mind, an ever-present distraction from getting to grips with station time. Trying to learn the length of a Bajoran second was like listening to a piece of music that you didn't know was written in 5/4 - it felt jarring and off and as soon as he felt that he had gotten to grips with it, a few kerriloiru later and he'd lost it again.

Eventually it would become second-nature, Julian was sure. But he was impatient to get there. For the meanwhile, it meant spending what little free time he had in his quarters, staring at a Bajoran chronometer, and trying to ignore the small pangs of discomfort as the kerriloiru ticked over - 1.689, 1.689, 1.689...

*I've decided Bajorans use a Base-13 system simply because it's fun and they have a 26 hour day. 🤷‍♀️😅

**The words teneyn and loira come from this Bajoran dictionary. Kerriloira is a combination of loira and kerripate (a fraction of a tessipate, a measure of land). The only example of a Bajoran plural I could find was maktal > makteru on this wiki so that's what I went with 😅

*** 1 loira is equivalent to 1 minute and 27.828 seconds. 1 teneyn is equivalent to 57 minutes and 5.292 seconds.

**** Obviously, the logical way to divide a teneyn up is into 3 lots of 13 loiru. Although humans cling so tenaciously to "half-past" as a concept, that eventually station Bajorans do end up adopting it as meaning 19 minutes after the hour.

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Thanks for sticking with me in this silly little maths worldbuilding :P I'm totally not going to go and write up my Bajoran counting system now, that doesn't sound like me at all... 😅😬 (Who am I kidding, sign me up to everything numbers and Star Trek and alien cultures)

#bajor worldbuilding #DS9 drabble #Bajor headcanon #Julian Bashir headcanon #my trek musings #am i procrastinating my fic?#absolutely!#but i wrote most of this up aaaages ago and a fic i just read had an in-depth alien counting system in the notes #and it made me super want to finish this #(Anzoni Anniversary by JacklegPenwright if anyone's interested in an AMAZING Garashir fic with behind-the-scenes worldbuilding insight)#Andi writes #Julian bashir #WSB

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