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fanofurfics · 3 months

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V-Day 💗

A Bucky Barnes Fic

Pairing: Bucky and FemReader

Content warnings: Pure self-indulgent fluff, alcohol. Minimal use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1664

A/N: So I did it. I decided to try my hand at my first Fanfic and decided I’d write and share it today for Valentine’s Day. This was written in the span of about an hour and minimal edits, so any and all mistakes are mine. Please be gentle with me 🫣 I also can’t stress enough this is purely self-indulgent fluff with our boy Bucky ‘cause that’s what I want today.

You had just gotten off of work and it had been a rough day. Being bombarded by the decorations, flowers, cards. Coworkers talking about where they and their date were going tonight inevitably asking what you were doing. And you were doing nothing. No date, no romantic night in, hell, no obligatory Valentine’s Day sex. When someone would “awe” or pout, you assured them it was fine - you were fine. But now without work to keep you busy, you really didn’t feel like doing nothing at home all alone. Luckily there was a bar right around the corner.

By the time you finished your first drink, you had started to rethink your decision. More and more couples filtered in, though you were sure it would be the same just about anywhere tonight. You started to really feel alone. You were doing another visual sweep of the room when you noticed a man walk through the doors. His deep set bright blue eyes stood out first. His strong brow and the scruff on his face kept you looking longer. You had always liked a man in leather. You catch yourself nearly drooling and spin back around towards the bar hoping he didn’t notice you clearly noticing him.

You go to take a drink and remember it’s empty. Just as you reach out to wave down the bartender, the man takes a seat at the bar, leaving just one chair between you, and calls out to the bartender as well just as she’s walking over.

”Sorry. Ladies first” the blue eyed lone man said.

“Thanks.” You smile. Maybe it's just because you’re feeling a little lonely tonight but that small act of chivalry makes you blush.

It isn’t long after you order your drink that another man comes to approach you with his scantily clad date in tow. “Hey, do you think you could scoot over so my girlfriend and I can sit at the bar?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes but smile and nod. “Sure.” You look to both empty seats next to you and before you can make the move yourself, the blue eyed gentleman reaches beside him and pulls out the chair next to him without taking his eye off his whisky in hand. You take it as an invitation, sliding your drink towards him and scooting over.

“Thanks.” You settle in, grabbing your drink to swirl the ice. “They should’ve got here earlier if they wanted their choice of seats.” You grumble just loud enough under your breath that he hears it and snickers before he takes another drink. His reaction is enough for you to decide to make a little small talk with him. You’re sure the bartender would like it if you found someone else to talk to tonight.

“Thanks for the seat. I’m Y/N.” You hold out your hand to the man next to you and he takes it, giving you a firm but gentle shake.

”Bucky.”

”Bucky.” You smile to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve met anyone with that name before.” You hope you haven’t already pissed him off by saying something stupid.

”Ah. Well now you have.” He gives a polite smile and goes back to watching the tv behind the bar.

After a few minutes had passed, all you could think about was this guy Bucky. It had been a long time since anyone had captured your attention like this. He was tall, had dark hair, and was extremely handsome. He was quiet, and came off broody, but had been polite to you so far. Sure, you had resigned to do nothing tonight, and maybe it was the drinks but now you didn’t feel all that much like being alone. Unless maybe it was with Bucky. You figured what did you have to lose? If you didn’t hit it off you’d be right back where you are now.

You turn in your chair to face him. ”Have you looked around at everyone here tonight? Most of them have been looking at their phones all night.” He slowly turned his gaze to you first to make sure you were talking to him. You looked at him, eyebrow raised and waiting for some kind of answer. The more seconds that passed, you were sure he would say nothing and just go back to his drink. Fair enough.

He looked around him then turned back to you. “I did notice. Must be pretty crappy dates if they can’t even give each other their attention for a few hours.”

He didn’t completely dismiss you! Great! The two of you continue to make small talk and discuss how sad it is that today people are so in tune with everything around them except those immediately near them. You both start listing off other things one could be doing than wasting time and money out with someone when you’re barely going to connect with them.

You’re really enjoying the conversation and as far as you can tell, he is too. You decide to get a little more personal. “So, did your date stand you up?” He’s staring straight ahead as he takes a swig. Maybe you crossed a sensitive line.

”No” is all he says. You can’t help but think you’ve hit a nerve, but you’re enjoying his company so much you have to try and save this.

”Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want to ask out some guy who was feeling vulnerable.”

Bucky choked a bit on his whisky, then looked at you and cocked his head.

You decided to ask before you lost your nerve.

“How would you feel about being Valentines for the evening? Maybe go play some pool or something?”

Bucky looked around the bar but before he could say anything you added. “There’s a place down the street. It's another bar. They serve whisky.” A small smile creeps up Bucky’s lips. He downs his drink and stands to help you out of your seat. “Shall we then?”

The second bar was crowded as well, but luckily you two were able to secure a pool table and had played game after game. In between rounds, you would put music on the jukebox hoping to hear your song between the long list others had played.

Conversation was easy between you too. He obviously wasn’t the most talkative of people but he was funny, sarcastic. And he was also incredibly sweet. The entire time he had gotten you your drinks and even insisted on paying for them. He’d hold your pool stick for you when you went to the bathroom. There was even a moment when he was taking his shot that he noticed some guy coming on to you and not getting the hint that you weren't interested. Bucky walked right up and put himself between you and the inebriated man. “We got a problem?” Bucky asked. The way this man could stare daggers at people was terrifying. And, a little exciting if you were being honest.

The drunken fool decided to push him in the chest and Bucky didn’t even budge. This infuriated the guy who then took a swing at Bucky, who caught his fist in his left hand and with the slightest squeeze, the man was on his knees. “Okay! Okay! Okay! Ow ow ow!” The drunken fool stumbled out of the bar with his tail between his legs after that.

The hours flew and before you knew it, it was last call and you two were the only ones left in the bar. You realized you had had so much fun you forgot about work in the morning. Begrudgingly you decide to call it a night. “Hey Bucky, I’ve had a really great time, but I should probably get going.” You walked over to grab your jacket off of the chair.

”Hold on.” Bucky put up a hand and then dug out a dollar from his pocket as he went to the jukebox. An old Billie Holiday song comes on and as he walks up to you, he extends his right hand. “May I have this dance?”

You can’t hide the grin that beams from your face and he smiles back. The two of you stand there in the middle of the empty bar and begin to sway back and forth in each other's arms. One hand in yours, the other on the small of your back, you feel yourself begin to melt for this man. He pulls you just the slightest bit closer and rests his face against yours. You had been on dates and had flings recently, but nothing with them had ever felt this intimate. This correct. Your heart breaks just a little as the song ends. You wish you could stay in this moment forever. You’re barely able to tear yourself apart from him, but do. Bucky grabs your coat and helps slip it over your shoulders.

“May I walk you home?” Bucky asks as he holds open the exit door.

”Please.” You don’t see it, but he is grinning now too.

The four block walk goes by too quickly and soon you’re on the steps leading up to your apartment building. You’re about to say something but Bucky beats you to it. “Thanks for the great time, doll. This was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in a long, long time.”

“Me too” you admit. “And Bucky,… You were the perfect gentleman.”

He scoffs at your remark. Bucky gently grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips giving you a tender kiss. “Goodnight.” Before he can let go, you turn your hand to grab his. “Wait.” You’re nervous, but would beat yourself up if you didn’t take the chance. You hadn’t hit it off like this with someone so quickly. “Would you…would you like to come in?”

Bucky gives the smallest smile and thinks about it. He shakes his head. “Next time, doll.” He kissed your hand once more. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but do a giddy dance before making your way to your apartment and climbing into your bed to dream, no doubt, about your darling Bucky.

#its my first fanfic and first thing I’ve posted public for others to read #please be gentle #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes mcu #Valentine’s Day fanfic #fluff #valentines day

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jay-wasreblogging · 1 month

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Fanfic authors be like

#this decision has changed the very foundation. stability and course of numerous fandoms #yes. this is about johnlock.#some of you johnlock authors are too comfortable putting out heart gripping. life changing. SOUL CLEANSING work and then just... moving on?#like come back and pick me up 😩 i be so emotional when a S-TIER fic i read ends like please erase my memory so i can experience it again!#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfic #fanfictions #fanfics #fanfiction #writers #authors #fanfic authors #fan fic #sherlock & co #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock

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silverskye13 · 1 year

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So, the thing about being damseled, Welsknight is rapidly realizing, is you don't really have to be a damsel to do it. Or have it done to you, that is. Being damseled isn't really a gender thing, like all the old knights tales would have him believe. He doesn't have to have long blonde hair, or a princess dress. He doesn't have to make deals with obscure fae gods or spirits, doesn't have to know how to weave golden thread. Heck, he doesn't even have to be locked in a tower. Damseling -- that is, the state of being a damsel in distress -- is a much broader scoped state of being. It's not so much a trope or a role, and more of... An essence. A vibe. If one can be trapped and helpless and in need of a knight in shining armor to save the day, one can in fact be damseled just fine without any of the key fairytale hallmarks.

How does Welsknight know all this? Well, because he's managed to damsel himself, of course.

Welsknight is trapped. He should have known better. Well? Should he have known better? Eh. Even if he should have, he definitely shouldn't have expected to. He's new to Vault Hunting.

Iskall and Stress made it sound so easy. Yeah! Just go find a vault, gear up, don't be afraid to run for your life. Nothing can go wrong if you're careful. Beware the curses and traps and tripwires. Don't eat anything growing on the walls. Fight. Survive. Win! They do it all the time, with their adventuring teams and alone. Whatever suits their fancy. Just don't anger the gods and do run screaming if something way beyond your skill level wanders into the room. Cowardice? Nonsense! Vaults aren't duels, they're thrills. Thrills that sometimes glean cool treasure, and treasure, while awesome, can't challenge your honor and isn't worth your life. So go, kill some monsters, have fun, run when you need to. It's low-high stakes, choose your own adventuring at its finest!

And Wels is a knight errant, alright? He's slain dragons. And withers. And, yes, rescued a few damsels. He's good at what he does. So when he and Iskall went for some drinks at a local tavern, and Welsknight whined that he was getting bored of escorting mining parties and killing oversized lizards for neglectful nobles, well, Iskall had smiled and pointed him to the Vaultlands. And Welsknight, bored and stupid in his boredom, had decided raiding vaults was a great idea.

"If I get out of this," Welsknight vows in his most solemn, oath-binding knight's voice, "I am going to punch Iskall right in his grinning, stupid face."

He is barricading a door with anything he can find, all while the screams and shrieks of some persistent undead challenge his fervor from the other side. The undead here are different than they are outside the Vaults. The slow, lumbering, hollow things that amble blindly around deep caves and unstable mines don't hold a candle to these creatures. These are malevolent undead, things that seem to hate Welsknight personally, inhabited by the dreams of sleeping gods that were, probably, sealed in these Vaults for a freaking reason. He's pretty sure one of them is jibbering with the voice of his dead brother, which is, honestly, demonic scales of unfairness. And he would know demonic unfairness. Welsknight has fought exactly one demon, and while he certainly isn't an expert, he knows more about how much they cheat and torment than he had ever wanted to know. And anyway, how is he supposed to kill that kind of malevolence in the undead? He's not! For heaven's sake, he's faced fae with less personal malevolence, and the fae court is the most petty place on earth!

Welsknight kicks his barricade with an armored boot, making sure it'll hold. The stack of pilfered detritus shakes but stands firm. Somewhere in that lot is his broken sword, barring the door shut. The blade shattered in four pieces when he was tackled by some wight-creature, not because the creature was that strong, but because he'd just used it to fight some sort of corrosive slime, and really, the fact that living acid slime exists in the Vaults is unfair, and something Iskall really should've warned him about. At least it hadn't gotten on his armor.

Welsknight backs away from the barred door, listening to the angry screams of what lay beyond it. There's a lot of name-calling going on. "Come to your death, coward!" And "Brother please! Help me! Don't let it take me!" And "Sleep with us forever knight! Aren't you tired?" Screech and groan through the air as though the door and barricade aren't there to muffle it. There's hysterical cackling as well, which is kind of typical. He can't tell if the loudness of the noise is supernatural, or if it means there's another entrance to the room he hasn't noticed yet. As unsettling as the supernatural option is, he kind of prefers that right now. Weaponless and exhausted, he's not sure how well he'll manage if the undead just start pouring in from a side door somewhere.

Welsknight blinks, and belatedly realizes he's blinking back tears. His hands shake as he wipes them away. Yeah, okay, maybe the screaming-with-the-voice-of-his-dead-brother thing was getting to him more than he thought it would. He's a knight, not an iron golem. He still has feelings. He tries to be detached and gentle about it. He knows what fear is. The first time he fought a dragon, he cried. He cried a lot, actually. After it was dead he lay on the ground sobbing for a good hour, which had been terribly inconvenient at the time, since it had broken one of his ribs. Terror kind of just, does that to him -- makes him cry. He learned a long time ago not to be ashamed of it, no matter how badly timed it could be.

"Right," Welsknight croaks into the room around him. "Cry about it later. Escape now."

It's not a big room that he's trapped himself in. It has the trappings of an ancient hall, with some newness to it, indicating he isn't the first adventurer to stumble in here. Rotting boxes and chests are tumbled against a collapsed wall, the smell of damp rot wafting off them. One has candles and two plates on it, someone's makeshift dining set up, and there's the scorched remains of a campfire. It looks pathetic compared to the massive columns and reliefs it sits beneath. Maybe this place was a temple? It sure seems kind of temple-y, but Welsknight has yet to encounter an altar to any Vault Gods -- which is probably good. Iskall had mentioned those were guarded by scary creatures, and if "malevolent undead who steal the voices of your loved ones from your memories to torment you while they devour your flesh" hadn't registered on Iskall's "scary creatures to warn Wels about" index, he really, really doesn't want to know what insane creatures might guard the altar chambers of the Vault Gods.

"Probably like, undulating tentacle demons with acid breath," Welsknight mutters out loud as he meanders the chamber, searching for something useful. "Or maybe the Gods themselves just come down and use you as a hackey sack until you prove your worth or die. That sounds about right."

The cold stone walls make no comment, which is probably for the best, since given current trends, they would probably talk back with the voice of his disapproving parents, or maybe the old knight he'd been squired to, which would really start straining his already stressed out psyche right about now.

He can still hear his brother's voice calling to him through the door.

For as impressive as the room is, there really isn't much in here of use. The boxes from the old expedition have let the moisture in the room in. There's old, indecipherable food inside that is now mostly black sludge. The candles might be useful if he had anything resembling a tinderbox to light them with. Everything else in here is far older, and mostly carved stone too heavy to pilfer. This place has obviously been picked over before. No relics are on the walls. The one chest he finds that is (probably) older than the boxes contains only a single glorious cobweb as a prize. Welsknight has just about submitted to his fate to die in obscurity in a random Vault somewhere, when he encounters a corpse. It is not reanimated dead, though he does give it a few good kicks to make sure it doesn't feel like crawling to life and talking with ominous voices.

"Well, at least the ambient necromancy going on in here has limits," Welsknight sighs, squatting down on the balls of his feet to pick the corpse over. "Well, friend, I don't suppose you've got anything helpful on you?"

Their chainmail is rusted, their features, save for a few whisps of black-brown hair, are decayed away. He manages to find a coin purse with some woefully old looking coins -- so the chances of some other adventuring party stumbling to his rescue are quite small then. He picks up a shield from them that, though dry rotted, looks like it could block one or two more hits before giving up the ghost. On their back is a scabbard so rusted, it looks like the sword might be fused inside. Welsknight grimaces, then shrugs and concedes that even a brittle sword is better than none. Still, it doesn't make prying the sword belt off the old bones any more pleasant. There's a lot of brittle cracking, and a lot of wincing on Welsknight's part, before he finally manages to get it free.

"Sorry friend, but I think I need this a little more than you do."

The skull rocks a bit on the floor as it settles, but otherwise doesn't seem to care. The sockets aren't even facing his direction. Welsknight takes that as his sign that he isn't horribly cursed... Or at least no more so than when he first got trapped in here. Welsknight rubs at the blade, trying to see how much of the rust is superficial. A bit chips off beneath his fingernail, revealing bright silver beneath.

"A silver scabbard?" Welsknight raised his eyebrows at the corpse, "Well, weren't you a glamorous fellow?"

Welsknight grimaces and, taking ahold of the hilt, draws the sword. It pulls a lot easier than he thought it would. The rust holds it for a moment, and then smoothly releases, revealing bright steel underneath. The sword unsheathes with a ringing hiss.

"--ON'T SHEATH THE SWORD YOU IDIOT!"

The scream is right by his ear. Welsknight lets out a startled yelp and turns to face the voice, tripping over his feet and landing in an inglorious heap on the floor.

Standing in front of him is a knight garbed in black armor, a fiery plume rippling from his helm. His back is facing Welsknight, and he stands with his shoulders hunched, one arm reaching forward like he's trying to stop someone. The knight takes a step back, surprised, then rocks on his heels.

"Oh." He says, then looks down at the skeleton by his feet. "Oh."

He stares at the skeleton for a long moment, shrugs, and then gives the skull a hard kick, sending it clattering off across the room. "Serves you right, you asshole!"

Welsknight is crying again. He can't help it. He's scared and overwhelmed, and this knight is so, so terribly familiar. From the armor to the way he stands, to his voice. And when the knight turns to face him finally, the face is familiar too.

"Hels?" Welsknight whispers.

Helsknight, his definitely-dead brother, looks down at him with uncomprehending eyes. Then he scowls, "Nope. Sorry."

"I-- but--"

"I am the Spirit of the Sword," Helsknight cuts him off, rolling his eyes petulantly. "I serve the wielder of my blade, loyal in death, as I wasn't in -- blablabla. I take the form of the protector, the guardian, the comforting, and yes, I'm used to the whole "oh you look just like my dead loved one" thing. So let's skip the unnecessary angst, okay?"

A particularly loud shriek from the ghouls outside echoes shrilly through the room before Welsknight can even attempt to gather his response. Helsknight spins to face the barred door and takes a threatening step towards it.

"Oh would you SHUT UP? We're in the middle of something!"

The sounds behind the door fall abruptly silent. Welsknight stares in bafflement, feeling just confused enough to stop crying. The Spirit Of The Sword That Looks Just Like His Dead Brother offers a hand to him.

"Come on, get up." He says as he pulls Welsknight to his feet roughly, and then gives him a long, appraising look. "Well, you look like you might know how to swing my sword, so there's something at least."

"I'm-- I'm a knight errant," Welsknight tells him, trying to recover some of his senses. "What-- are you another trick of this terrible place?" Anger starts to bubble underneath everything else he's feeling, and his fists clench. "I'm tired of the stupid mind games and the trickery, and everything screaming like Hels and---!"

Helsknight holds up his hands, looking something between annoyed and appeasing. "Aye, yes, I understand. My last wielder did die in this Vault. No I'm not a demon, or an evil spirit -- unless you intend to use my sword for evil, in which case, I'm evil by proxy." Helsknight ushered to himself. "The enchantment in the blade turns me into something you're familiar with. Whoever I am, I don't have his memories or his mannerisms--" his lip curls in something like disgust as he adjusts his breastplate, "--or his taste in armor. Really, what's wrong with some nice high mobility chainmail? Or leather? Leather is amazing! It's quiet and doesn't feel like I'm carrying a whole damn armory around."

Welsknight screwed his eyes shut and breathed. Alright. Alright. He's okay. He can deal with this. He can-- well at least he can ignore the specter of his brother following him around for as long as it takes to get out of this Vault. But when he gets out ohhh, oh Iskall owes him six pints at the nearest tavern and a damn good explanation.

"Sword Spirit," Welsknight asks after another set of calming breaths, "can you fight?"

Helsknight looks down at his hip where a sword is sheathed. He draws it, tests its weight and shrugs. "I'd be a poor sword spirit if I couldn't."

"Alright then," Welsknight picks up the magical sword from where he'd dropped it and walks towards the barred door. "Let's get out of here, then."

Well, there is one good thing about being damseled at least, Welsknight thinks bitterly as Helsknight begins moving the debris. Someone always sends you a knight in shining armor.

#the barking writer #welsknight #helsknight #swordheart au #sorry i couldnt resist this has been rotating in the back of my head ever since i read swordheart #hermitcraft fic #vault hunters fic #i know nothing about vault hunters except for like 10 eps of Iskalls singleplayer season 1 lets play please forgive me vh fans #helsmits

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bethanyactually · 15 days

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Feels Just Like A Beat Up Truck // The Sign Up Ahead // (But the Engine Doesn’t Turn) // ibid. // ibid. // I Turn the Engine // ibid. // Listened Through the Cemetery Trees // ibid. // “oh god I had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but I’m too drunk for words”, mixed media on paper by tumblr user billypotts // Listened Through the Cemetery Trees // all fic from the One Headlight series by @pressdbtwnpages

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Kelsey!!! 💛💜 (1/2)

#nancy drew fic rec #nancydrewedit #naceedit #nancy drew cw #nancy x ace #pressdbtwnpages #for ages I've been sending kelsey text posts like 'wish I could make text post edits of fic this would be perfect' ...well guess what :)#so this is a post very specifically for kelsey but also for all the One Headlight series fans out there #if you have not yet read any of these fics please consider this my wholehearted recommendation and tell kelsey I sent you! ♡#brella #gabagal #catty words #long post #one headlight series #bethanyactuallyedit #web weaving #kelseybday2024 #@gabagal and @catty-words thank you for the help!!

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dismas-n-dismay · 14 days

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Please I need to see the ship kids? Is Laios a good uncle? Do they have scales/feathers or sharp teeth? Horns? Claws? (This series has me in a chokehold rn)

*SQUEEZES YOU IN MY GRASP*

I had to put everything under the cut because this is a hella long post so everyone else just look at these cute farcille babies and rock on

HI HOWDY!! Laios is obsessed with these little freaks (he would never call them that though cause he would literally die for them if needed) He’s essentially been right by Falin and Marcille’s side since day one when it came to the babies! He’s a surprisingly good uncle but definitely that one where he gives the kids gifts that the parents are like “YEAH NO- he’s 8 he doesn’t need a crossbow”

He definitely gives the kids little trinkets he gets from foreign dignitaries since I don’t picture Laios really liking all the gifts and gold and money people will give him to butter him up when he catches onto it. The cool monster stuff stays with him though, but he’ll let the kids look at anything cool he gets that he decides to keep for his personal collection. I like to imagine that when he holds them he always keeps them to the side of his hip, real mom type stance when he’s holding them.

Secondly, GREAT QUESTION!! They have a little bit of both! Haru (the cream colored baby) has feathery down covering his ears, chest, and wings as well as basically anywhere else that he isn’t scaly or covered in soon to be thought flesh. He’s more of a dragon from the waist down but bird from the waist up like Falin was.

His sister Haize (the apple red one) has the most scales! (But the least feathers out of the pair) Haize has more of that traditional dragon look and unlike Haru, she’s dragon basically to the neck up. She has scrawny little forearms that aren’t quite attuned to walking yet but once she grows they’ll become a lot more useful for the crawling around stage of her infancy! Haru will often try to climb on her back because he wants to be fast too- he’s only a little guy but he still hates that she got the extra limb genes where he didn’t.

Both have wings though the down that Haru has makes it a bit difficult for him to fly, though he really grows to enjoy flapping and the flutter of his wings! Haize has more sleek featherless dragon wings which make her flight process a bit easier, though her longer body means that her flying is quite silly (it’s like when you pick a cat up by their middle and they just dangle, imagine that but with flight and her trying to tuck her limbs in to have less weight pulling her down). Both have claws on their dragon halves as well as spikes/spines on their backs though only Haize has been born with the making for clawed hands, Haru grows into his later in life!

Really Falin and Marcille are glad that the kids are in relative captivity, Haru’s inherited the “head empty, no thoughts, tee hee” touden genes and they’re like 75 percent certain that he would get eaten if natural selection had its way - assuming Haize didn’t protect him ofc. Haru is very sleepy as a baby while Haize is very cranky. She likes to sleep on her back but her itty bitty dragon wings get cramped when she does and sleeping on her side isn’t as a comfy. Aside from that she just likes attention and being with her parents which is tough due to their jobs.

Haru has colic due to the light magic that manifests in his stomach pouch organ! He was born with an organ similar to the one red dragons have that allows them to breathe fire! It allows him to conjure and manifest light and can be weaponized if a dragon knows what they’re doing. Really it’s much more useful as bioluminescence for dragons who dwell in darker dungeons as it allows them to lure in prey and the pouch’s brightness grows as a dragon approaches somewhere stacked with mana and magic which is an easy way to find enemies or food! Typically light dragons are very powerful but a rare find as they’re often incredibly soft and unable to protect themselves as babies as well as their newly born pouches which let off a lot of glow due to basically incubating for a year or so and refuse to dampen until they learn to properly dispel their magic via spells. Not to mention how easy of a target it is for their obvious weak spot, one bad slash to the tummy and ur done.

Most dragon babies learn early as having that much magic in you hurts a LOT but Haru takes a lot while to learn it, though Falin soon learns that pressing on his stomach and conjuring her own light magic to siphon Haru’s own eases a lot of his tummy aches and pains.

(I got way more facts about these guys so if you wanna know more just send another ask!! :]!! /gen)

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ethan-nestor-owns-my-heart · 11 months

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I know loads of you bitches watched the damn movie so where tf are you?!

#scream #scream vi #jenna ortega #scream 6 #tara carpenter #melissa barrera #sam carpenter #scream v #tara #horror #scream meme #please I need more fics to read #I spend my nights desperately realoadimg ao3 in hopes of more fics #scream fandom #scream fans #it’s a scream baby #scream memes #meme

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nikki-rook · 10 months

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Castle Ficlet: The first I love you

During the night between Always and After the Storm

Kate shuffled under the comfy white blanket, turning to her side, her eyes fluttering open. Castles eyes looked back at her. A soft smile spread across her face.

“Hi” she whispered.

“Hi” he whispered back. A smile touching his lips as his body visibly relaxed back into the pillows and sheets.

“Have you been watching me sleep?” she asked, biting her bottom lip a little in embarrassment.

“I um... yeah.” He mumbled. He squeezed her hand, and she realized he had been holding it this whole time, gently. His thumb circling the top of her hand, gently playing with her fingers. His eyes glanced down, almost embarrassingly and she squeezed his fingers.

“What?” she asked, ducking her head a little to meat his gaze.

He let out a little breath disguised as a laugh. “I feel like if I take my eyes off you, I’ll look back and you won’t be there.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

Concern crossed her eyes, she let go of his hand, shuffled the blankets, and scooted closer to him. Kissing his chest, she looked up at him, his piercing eyes so bright in the darkness.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She said, firmly, so he would believe it. “I love you, Castle.” She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Grabbing her shoulders, he slid back to make some space between them.

“You love me?” he asked, his voice cracking. Surprise in his eyes, Kate reached up to his face, brushing his hair back, smiling at him with that mysterious look she always had. Castle realized in this moment that look, that glow in her eyes, it was love.

“After all this time, you think I didn’t?” She asked. She leaned her body into his, kissing him on the lips, her hands on his face. She took the moment of silence after the kiss to nuzzle herself into his arms. The feeling of safety she never knew she needed, his warm arms engulfing her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“I guess…” he sighed, at a loss for words, which was still an unfamiliar feeling even though it happened quite a lot with her. “I guess I had just convinced myself over the last month that you didn’t. I was trying to come to peace with that. And that was okay.” He paused as she squeezed him a little bit tighter.

“Rick, I’m so sorry.” She whispered into his chest. She could feel him shaking his head, he pulled them apart for just a moment to look in her eyes.

“I love you Kate, none of that matters anymore.” He kissed her, long and slow. “You’ve healed all those wounds in an instance with those words.” He smiled, and she smiled bigger now, swatting his shoulder.

“So cheesy.” She laughed, and he laughed too, pulling her close, tucking the blankets up around them both.

“Cheesy, but true.” He said. And they both lay there, feeling each others breathing, the calm, comfortable, familiar presence of each other lulling them back to sleep.

Neither of them stirred until Kate woke to the light peeking through the window, quietly detangling herself from his arms so she could slip away and make them coffee.

Now that we know those words crossed Kates lips many times before Still, I like to think it happened this night. That she said it, that she felt it, that she meant it. Maybe its too early, too quick for our damaged girl. But she definitely knew. She went to his door with all of the love in her heart. And him confirming that it wasn't a dream wasn't so much about the whole night, but about that moment, in the middle of the night when she said those words. So I felt the need to write this quick little moment.

#I havn't written fan fiction in a very long time so please be nice #I just couldn't get this idea out of my head after reading the tweet about her having said I love you before #She may still be too damageda at this point and thats okay #I just really would like this to be true #castle #caskett #kate beckett #richard castle #abc castle #castle and beckett #rick castle #fic rec #fanfiction #ficlet #caskett fanfiction

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luthwhore · 10 months

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hello, love your blog, was wondering if you have any clex fic recs?

oh man, i have been binging clex fic pretty much nonstop since i started getting back into smallville several months ago, so i can definitely make some recs! with that said, i'm relatively new to the clex fandom, so i would also recommend checking out @clarklexlois's fic rec page, which is super comprehensive and where i found a lot of things myself! i believe @raelis1 also posted a fic rec list a while back that was full of a lot of old gems, many of which are not on ao3 and/or are only accessible via the wayback machine, so i would definitely check out both of their rec lists at some point.

editing to add: @reedrichards also has a rec list posted on their old blog still accessible here!

i'm not sure what specific flavor of clex you're looking for, so I'll try to provide some variety, but given that quite literally 95% of the clex fic on ao3 is smallville-based, most of these are mostly or entirely based on smallville canon.

also, i'm trying to limit this list to no more than one fic per author, but many of these authors have a ton of fic and i would highly recommend looking through their other work!

smallville-based:

the identical series, by @lanninglurksnomore. 400k+ words and 20 years in the making. technically still a WIP but the latest chapter was posted about a week ago. since the fic was started at the end of s1, it's heavily canon-divergent, but lanning's characterization of lex and handling of his mental illness is excellent, and the fic really captures lex's relationship with lionel perfectly.

string theory, by spqr. this is technically an omegaverse fic, but the omegaverse aspect is exclusive to kryptonians. loosely set post-series, but it's pretty light-hearted and fun.

let it snow, by mskatej. sharing a hotel room / sharing a bed / snowed in fic. exactly what it sounds like. i really like how bratty the author writes clark in this fic, it feels very true to his canon characterization.

the hinge moment, by @tasabian. basically all of this author's fic is set post-series and blends smallville characterization and history with comic elements, so it feels like a really wonderful blend of the two. i would frankly recommend their entire catalog of fic because they have some of my favorite characterization for clark, but this one in particular does a masterful job of showing the tremendous amount of pressure clark is under as superman.

switch: a comedy of terrors, by rivkat. this one is a bodyswap fic. if you like bodyswap fics, you will love this fic. rivkat has a huge backlog of clex fic and all of it slaps. i think i lost about a week just digging through all of their fic.

marked, by seperis. this author has a very lovely, almost stream-of-conscious style that makes for a very pleasant reading experience. this particular fic manages to hit shaving kink, make-up/feminization, and collaring. 80% porn but then it sneaks angst in on you at the last minute. this author's fic tends to have a very grounded, bittersweet feel to it.

light the torch, by ang3lba3 & Birthdaytoasts. clark/lex/lois. alien heat/mating-cycle fic. if the idea of that triad interests you, this fic will be everything you could want and more.

long time coming, by BewareTheIdes15. by far the most recent fic on this list -- it was just published this month -- but so, so, SO good. post-series, canon-divergent, fix-it-fic of sorts. fantastic characterization all around, snappy prose, and generally a delight to read.

seduction, by lenore. **heavy trigger warnings on this one for lionel being a massive creep.** the first fic is, by it's nature, a pretty uncomfortable read and also not technically a clex fic, so if the tags/summary does not sound like something you want to read in graphic detail (i personally skimmed some parts), you can skip to the second installment without losing anything for the very cathartic follow-up.

manual transmission series, by bipolypesca. this fic is old and only available on the wayback machine, the only thing on my rec list that isn't on ao3. it's very long but so worth it. the characterization for both clark and lex is excellent and it's one of the few long fics i've seen really delve into clark's very specific anxieties around his fear of sex and specifically of hurting people with his powers during sex, as well as the specific prejudices and issues two young queer men living in a small town in kansas would be subject to.

comics-based:

wien's law, by obscureshipyard. (unsure if this author has a tumblr.) exclusively comics-based, though the author does have some more smallville-based works i think. features lex as a trans man, if that's something you're into. there's some triggering content and the first few installments are pretty angsty, but it ultimately has a happy ending.

an alienated property, by kantayra. superman and lex, trapped together on a red sun planet. (i'm honestly surprised this trope isn't more popular because it's a lot of fun.) this fic is tagged with smallville, not comics, but it feels more in line with the comics dynamic to me.

a universe of possibilities, by kitsunesongs. dub-con. based on the superman: the black ring arc and may be a little confusing if you haven't read the arc it's based on, but there's so little purely comics-based clex fic that i feel like i have to include it.

#answered #clex #fic recs #btw if you are a clex fan who has fic recs that AREN'T on here please feel free to add them!#there is no particular order to this other than just which ones i ran into on my ao3 bookmarks first #i have a bunch more fic on my to-read list that i haven't finished and therefore can't really rec #thank you for the question anon!!!

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 years

Text

Age Of Consent [part five]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 3.083

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: Halfway through!! Remember I post an update daily at 12:00 PM EST, tags are unfortunately closed for this series. Really hope you guys like this one! Can't wait for what happens next!

Read Part Four || Read Part Six

When your brother mentioned that he wanted to go to a concert, you weren't sure what to expect, but you certainly did not expect to pull up to a dingy, poorly lit bar on the outskirts of town.

"Dustin," you said. "I think you have the wrong address."

"I most certainly don't," he replied with a wide smile. "Come on, let's go."

The inside was just about as welcoming as the parking lot. If your mother knew that you had brought her sweet, sweet baby boy into a dive bar, she would flatline on the spot. You mentally reminded yourself to make sure that Dustin pinky swore to never tell her about this little escapade later.

No one even seemed phased by the presence of Dustin which both relieved and frightened you. A scantily clad waitress brought over two glasses of water and asked if you wanted something stronger, but you declined. You had a feeling that she wouldn't even card you.

The lights dimmed and Dustin began to cheer. He was the only one.

You could see four dark figures walk out onto the stage and pick up their instruments. The beginning notes of a song that you faintly recognized played through the amplifiers and your brother cheered loudly, once again. The spotlight hit the stage and your jaw just about hit the floor.

You could not believe that your brother had brought you to a Corroded Coffin show. This was the exact reason why you didn't want Dustin hanging around Eddie; he had clearly been deceiving you from the jump and this was one-thousand percent a setup. It was as clear as day to you now. You had gone two years without once seeing Eddie in this small town, but the moment your brother got involved you started seeing him everywhere? Total setup.

However, you were still so goddamn impressed by the boy's ingenuity that you weren't mad at him one bit. You knew your brother was smart, you should have known that he would have figured out that you still had feelings for Eddie.

Speaking of impressed, you were enamored by Eddie's band and how good they had become over the years. You didn't recognize any of the other kids, but they were great, and probably the best metal cover band that you had ever heard of- not that you had heard of many in Hawkins. Out of all of them, however, it was Eddie who was the best. He had been playing the guitar since he could tie his shoes, pretty much, and it was obvious that he was extremely talented.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from his hands.

Your surroundings melted away as you became entranced by the way his fingers worked the neck of his guitar with such delicacy, such ease. His hair was damp with sweat as he bounced around the stage, that effortless charisma on full display for the small crowd. You remembered when he used to pull out his acoustic guitar and play for you; his onstage persona was the complete opposite of the softness of his bedroom.

After every song, Dustin screamed at the top of his lungs in support of his friends. You could see the shy smile on Eddie's lips every time and it made your heart melt.

When the set was over, Eddie hopped down off of the stage and immediately made his way over to the table.

"Dude!" Dustin yelled, giving Eddie a high-five. "That was so awesome!"

"Thanks, man," Eddie said before his eyes landed on you. "I'm glad you were able to make it."

"I lost a bet, remember?" You smiled at him and he laughed. "That was pretty impressive, I gotta hand it to you."

Eddie placed a hand on his chest sarcastically. "That is just about the best damn compliment you could give a guy, Ms. Henderson, considering how hard it is to impress you."

"Can we get something to eat?" Dustin interrupted. "I'm starving."

"You should have had something to eat before we left." You chided. "It's so late, I doubt anyone's open."

"There's a diner down the road that has the best burgers in all of Indiana," Eddie added. "I am also on the verge of starvation if you want to go. I know it's way past your bedtime, kid."

"Can we go, Y/N?" Dustin pleaded. "I'm not even tired!"

"You are spoiled, you know that?" You asked your brother.

He was already running out of the door to the car. Eddie grabbed your elbow before you could head out after him. It was a simple touch, but it made your cheeks flush; you hoped that he hadn't noticed with how dimly lit the bar was. You looked at his hand holding on to your arm and he immediately pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he was in trouble.

"I gotta stick around here long enough to take down the equipment," he said softly. "The diner is about five minutes from here, you just take a left out of the parking lot and keep going straight. It'll be on the right-hand side of the road. I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes, this won't take long."

"Sure," you replied. "I'll see you there."

"Can't wait," he smiled.

You had been fighting the butterflies in your stomach from the moment you had left The Hideout bar to the moment that Eddie's van pulled into the diner parking lot. It was a losing battle, but you weren't ready to give in to them. Not yet. You couldn't just give up the ghost after two years of being at war with your own feelings. You wouldn't let him get off that easy, no matter how hard he or your brother were trying.

He slid into the booth next to Dustin, across from you, and immediately the nonsense began. Eddie and your brother were like opposite sides of the same coin; they read the same books, played the same games, watched the same movies. They were both brilliant, yet immature, and didn't care about who stared at them or how big of a scene they caused.

In the two hours that you spent in that booth, you don't think you had laughed this hard since your dad was alive. Between Dustin's snappy comebacks and Eddie's jokes, your cheeks were in pain from smiling so much.

And it was comforting to see Dustin so happy.

"Getting tired?" You asked your brother as he let a yawn slip. "We should probably get going."

Dustin wanted to protest, but both you and Eddie reminded him that he had school in the morning. You were surprised when Eddie asked for one check and fished out a twenty-dollar bill to cover your meals. You had mentioned to him that it wasn't necessary for him to do that, but he waved a hand at you, muttering something about it being no big deal.

"Thanks for coming to see my band play," he said quietly as he walked you to your car. Dustin was already in the front seat waiting on you. "Despite the fact that you only came because you lost a bet. You don't have to remind me that you definitely would not have come if it weren't for that, I already know."

You smiled, "you know me so well."

"That I do, m'lady."

"Look, I know that you have school tomorrow," you began, not really knowing how to finish this particular sentence without feeling like you were choking on thin air. "But I'm not quite as tired as that guy," you pointed over your shoulder at Dustin who was practically already asleep in the car. "You want to maybe- I don't know- If you wanted to come over? You totally don't have to, I would definitely understand."

You were rambling.

"Y-yeah," Eddie blurted almost as soon as the question left your lips. He was a little confused, definitely shocked, but ready to go with you wherever you asked nonetheless.

"Okay, cool." You replied doing your best not to smile like a goddamn idiot and play it cool. "You want to just follow us?"

"Sure," he nodded, still surprised that you would even ask him to come over and in front of your brother, no doubt.

You climbed into your car, trying to ignore your brother's stare.

"Did you just invite Eddie over to our house?"

"Yes," you replied as you started up the ignition. "And you're not going to tell mom, considering that this was your plan all along. You're especially not going to tell her that the little concert you wanted to go to so bad was at a dive bar. Pinky promise me."

Dustin wrapped his little finger around yours and bound the contract.

The drive back to your house was longer than usual. You weren't quite sure what made you want to invite Eddie back to your house, but you were only slightly regretting it. It's not like you could get all the way into your driveway and tell him that you had changed your mind.

"Straight to bed," you told your brother when you pulled up outside of your house. The lights were off, signaling that your mother had already gone to bed herself.

Eddie had parked across the street out of habit. He never wanted your mother to question why there was a creepy white van sitting directly in front of her house, especially since she had no idea that he even existed in your life. Dustin gave him a wave before heading inside, leaving the two of you alone.

"For old time's sake?" He asked, holding a joint between his fingers.

"I will not be so easily corrupted, my good sir."

"Says the young lady who used to sneak me in through her window every night," he countered. "Should I go grab the ladder from the side of the house?"

You playfully shoved him before heading towards the front door. Eddie stayed where he was, however, not sure what to do. You turned around and motioned for him to follow you and he was at your side in an instant. When you passed through the front door, Eddie was stalled by the pictures that hung on the walls of the foyer; there was a picture for every year, almost. He had never been through your front door, never stood in your living room. This was all new to him and he needed a moment to take it all in.

"Look at your cheeks," he whispered with a smile as he pointed to one of your baby pictures.

"Come on," you whined, pulling him by the hand into your kitchen.

You knew that your mother kept a few cans of beer in the very back of the fridge in case she ever had company- which was never, and you were certain that it was probably stale, but you still fished them out from behind the two-week old leftovers and handed them to Eddie.

"Who's corrupting who?" He asked with a quiet chuckle.

"Come on, let's go."

"Oh, I'm taking these!" He whispered excitedly as he grabbed a bag of Doritos off of your counter.

You guided him through your backyard to Dustin's treehouse. He was insistent that you go up the ladder first, possibly out of chivalry, definitely because he wanted to stare at your ass. He handed you the beers and the Doritos before pulling himself up the ladder behind you. The tree house was small, and missing a roof at this point. Your dad had built it for Dustin when he was only five, so it had definitely seen better days.

But it offered a clear view of the sky and the crickets in the background provided a beautiful soundtrack.

You sat leaning against one of the wooden beams, Eddie was opposite you. Your feet playfully bumping into his. He cracked open a can of beer and passed it to you before opening one of his own and taking a swig. He placed the joint from earlier in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out into the night.

"You remember the first time you brought me over here?"

He passed the joint off to you and you took it without hesitation.

"How could I forget?" You asked, taking a long drag. The burn of the smoke in your throat made you cough. "You were so nervous. You didn't want to touch anything in my room, you were afraid you would break something."

You reached out to pass the joint back to him. His calloused fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver through your arm. He took a hit of the joint and gently knocked the ashes off of the end.

"I was nervous because when I got there you looked me dead in the eye and asked me to take your virginity. I, too, was a seventeen-year-old virgin, how else was I supposed to react?"

"Hm," you remembered that night fondly. "You were so cute asking me for permission every twenty seconds."

"Just in case you changed your mind."

Eddie reached back out to you, passing the joint; your fingers lingering a little longer this time. The effects of the high were wearing on you, as they always did. You were giggling over nothing with eyes half-open. Eddie wasn't helping; his constant jokes and theatrics as he re-told past memories had you crying from laughing. You prayed that no one could hear you, it had to be past midnight by now.

At this point, you were both laying on your backs looking up at the stars and talking about nothing that mattered because neither one of you wanted to ruin this moment. You were pressed against each other, side-by-side, the warmth from his body keeping you from getting too cold. Your hands touched, back to back, but you could feel his fingers itching to intertwine with yours.

"Fuck, I've missed this," he said softly as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand.

You became suddenly hyper-aware of the situation that you had put yourself in. Your mind began to fixate on the fact that he was holding your hand in his, and that you were completely leaning into him. The high immediately dissipated and you were left with the aching feeling that you were about to cross a line that you did not want to cross.

"I think you should go," was all that you could think to say. "I didn't realize it was so late." You had hoped the last part would soften it.

He sat up and frowned, "Did I do something wrong?"

"All of this is wrong, Eddie." You sighed. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?" He asked, his voice breaking. "I thought we were having a good time."

"We were," you answered honestly.

"Then what is it?" He pushed. You paused. "I'm still not fucking good enough for you am I?" You sighed in response, not wanting to go down this road with him right now. "Well, I am so sorry that I don't fit into the cookie-cutter life that you always wanted; good college, pastel sweaters, conformity."

"Wasn't even able to get into a good college because of you, so don't even bring that shit up right now." The words came heavily from your mouth and were laced with anger.

Eddie stops and turns to you.

"What?"

You had thought about this argument for a long time.

"I know that you remember the day we were caught smoking pot out past the football fields, even though you swore up and down no one ever came out there." You recollected. "I had to put on the performance of a lifetime pretending that I was sick for that 10-day suspension so that my mom didn't find out."

"In case you weren't aware, things like that go on your public record, making it impossible for me to get into a decent school." You could feel your eyes burning. "I applied for almost every college in the goddamned country."

Eddie sighed and reached a hand out to comfort you but you pushed him away. "Y/N, I didn't realize-"

"Of course you didn't," you cried. "You were so- so fucking selfish back then, all you cared about was your little club, your guitar, and your punk ass reputation. I wanted to break up with you then, I almost did, but I loved you so much."

"Baby," he whispered, trying to pull you into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

"I didn't want to break up with you Eddie, but I had to. That day at graduation, I just couldn't do it anymore."

You could see his eyes glossy in the moonlight. He was mere inches away from you, wanting nothing more than to hold you and somehow make this better. He felt fucking awful, and suddenly he realized what you meant when you said that his choices had a way of bleeding into the lives of the people around him. Fuck, he felt like such an asshole.

"You should really go," you said once again.

He nodded, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to remedy this situation. In his heart he also knew that trying to win you back was a moot point. You were right to have broken up with him, to never want to see him again. Hell, he wouldn't have wanted to see himself either.

In high school, all that you had talked about was getting out of Hawkins and getting into a good school with a good theater program. The fact that he had something to do with you not being able to achieve those dreams made him feel sick to his stomach. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. You didn't even want to go out there. You said that you needed to study for your Literature test, but he begged you to skip lunch with him and head out towards the woods.

He remembered how you didn't talk to him for almost a month after that.

He climbed down from the treehouse and turned back one more time, but you wouldn't look at him. He muttered something under his breath that you couldn't quite hear before stalking off into the darkness. You could hear his van start-up and take off down the road, leaving you with nothing but an ache in your gut and a feeling of regret.

Tags (closed):

@fangirling-4-ever, @nojamsonmytoast, @munson-burner, @slvdsjjk, @kiszkawagnerwhore, @bitterplacebrokendreamsmaegan, @katxn15, @itswormtrain, @itsallnonsens3, @aashy723, @buginktsworld, @in-this-minute, @peachyxholic, @colbychu, @bilbobag9ins, @cat-mak20, @bumpbeaded, @liv4193, @thisisntmyrightera, @chloepart03, @creativedogs, @simp4fictional, @serrendiipty, @equuleus86, @morganasimp26, @evewithluv, @1980shorrorfillm, @you-makeme-crazier, @icareabouteverythxng, @cyberneticfallout, @eddiemattress, @bethii1, @immybx, @sortafictional, @bbyharlow, @persona-lreference, @michaelfuckinglangdon, @cvmtitss, @1800-fight-me, @brain-of-nekoma, @eddiesgoodgirl, @eddie-swhore, @16bruises

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ellalily · 1 year

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Pesky bird:) Happy birthday to @mochiwrites !! (Fan art for their wonderful sea fruits au, which is definitely worth a read)

#happy birthday mochi!!#i hope you have an incredible day<3 #im such a big fan of your stories and how you write them... i hope i managed to do your grian justice:)#BUT YES EVERYONE PLEASE READ THIS FIC #and all her other ones too while you're at it theyre all amazing #though fair warning they do contain hermitshipping #🍂#grian #hermitcraft #my art <3

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keistance · 1 year

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society if dc fans and creatives remembered tim drake was an over the top asshole

#tim drake #dc #dc comics #red robin #dc memes #memes #my property #tired of reading a fic or talking with a fellow fan and them saying tim is a sweet boy who has no done wrong #he is a fucking asshole and i love that for him #ao3 how difficult can it be to find a true tim fic in you im begging you no more of this imposter all babies adore #yall remember when he faked a broken leg and fake physical therapy for a year? yeah please more of that

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theshireisburningg · 1 year

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endings and new beginnings

A modern-day college AU where Steve and Eddie are randomly assigned to be roommates in their freshman dorms. They're just friends, Steve swears, until maybe one day, they're not.

29k | completed | rated E

[read on ao3]

#it’s done <3 #also please share and/or let me know what you think if you read :’)#steddie fan fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiedaily #my writing

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unearthmyburiedheart · 1 year

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"I Want This So Much"

Pairing: Graham Coxon x Female Reader I imagined 1999, 2000, or 2001 era Graham as I wrote this fan fic, but feel free to imagine any Gra era you'd like! Word Count: 4,479 Warnings: No warnings, except this fan fic is EXTREMELY smutty and involves period sex. Brief mentions of blood and other bodily fluids. Prompt: No real prompt, just an idea I've had for a while! Period sex with Graham. That's about it! Note: This fan fic is the first one I've written in ages and ages and ages and I am quite nervous to post it. Please be kind! It's a very unserious exercise and I wrote it purely for my own entertainment and enjoyment, but I ultimately decided to share it on tumblr despite feeling really shy and anxious. Writing this sexy fan fic gave me a lot of joy and I hope you all like it! Lots of love! ***

I suddenly wake up from a deep sleep and feel intense pain shooting through my abdomen, lower back, and thighs. My foggy brain registers period cramps. Thoroughly exhausted, I quietly groan and lightly shift my weight on Graham’s bed. It’s almost pitch black in Graham’s room, save for the moonlight filtering in through his bedroom window. It’s completely silent, aside from the rain tapping on the window and Graham’s soft breathing as he sleeps soundly next to me. I shift my weight again and glance at his sleeping figure under the covers. His back is facing me and his hair is disheveled. I watch his body gently rise and fall and I fight the urge to run my fingers across his bare shoulders.

I shift my weight a third time and reach for Graham’s bedside table in the darkness. I contemplate turning on his bedside lamp, but I don’t want to disturb his sleep. Another wave of period cramps shoots through the lower half of my body and I wince as I grasp my water bottle. I sit up on my elbows and take several small sips of water. I force myself to roll out of bed and stand up. I suddenly feel lightheaded and my legs shake as another wave of pain hits me. My water bottle still in hand, I slowly walk several paces to the end of Graham’s bed and feel in the dark for my duffel bag. I carefully make my way into Graham’s bathroom and when I step onto the cool tile, close the door behind me, turn on the light and drop my bag, I lightly gasp at what I see. My period has definitely started, and in the most dramatic and messy way possible. My underwear and thighs are heavily smeared in blood and I sigh in frustration.

I immediately peel my bloody underwear from my body and rummage in my bag for a clean pair. I put in a tampon, clean my legs, and pull on a pair of sweatpants. After taking several tablets of pain medicine and drinking deeply from my water bottle, I step back into Graham’s bedroom. I notice his bedside lamp is on and he’s propping himself up on his elbows to look at me. Squinting at me with a curious expression, he studies my face as I walk back to his bed. Graham obviously wasn’t sleeping as deeply as I thought he was.

“Why are you awake?” he asks groggily. “I rolled over and reached for you, but you weren’t there.”

I bury myself under the covers, turn off his bedside light, and move my body towards him. “Really bad period cramps,” I say softly. I feel him move his body close to mine in return. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into him, nuzzling our noses together as he presses his forehead into mine.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”

“No,” I answer, and I curl myself into him. His body is so warm. I breathe slowly for a while. The pain is awful, but not unusual for the first day of my period, and I know I just have to wait for the medicine to take effect. Graham holds me in silence. I whimper as another wave of pain hits my lower back and he kisses my cheeks as I say “owww” several times in a row.

I reposition myself and turn over so my back faces him. His chest now pressed against my back, he gently moves my hair and kisses the back of my neck. I sigh happily as his warm hands first reach under the back of my shirt and then reach under the waistband of my sweatpants. He gently touches my waist. He moves his warm hands across my abdomen and lower back as he attempts to soothe me with his touch. He always does this when I struggle with period cramps and I bite my bottom lip in contentment.

“Do you want the heating pad?” he asks, but I shake my head.

“No,” I answer quietly. “The medicine will kick in soon. Your hands feel nice.”

He kisses the back of my neck again and holds me in silence as I wait for the pain to recede. As the pain disappears, I feel myself falling into a deep sleep. Graham kisses the back of my neck several times before gently pulling his body away from mine. In a matter of seconds, sleep pulls us under. ***

The following morning is cloudy. Rain steadily patters against Graham’s bedroom window. His room is exceptionally cozy. I open my eyes, register the comforting sound of rain, and roll over onto my back. I prop myself up on my elbows and immediately feel the dull pain of continued period cramps. The pain has significantly lessened, but a minor ache spreads throughout my lower back and I force myself to stand up, stretch, and take additional pain medicine.

I hear Graham’s voice coming from the kitchen. I smile as I hear him softly singing to himself. I hear the whistling of a teapot, the clattering of utensils, and I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing when I hear him sharply curse.

“Fuck,” he says loudly, and just a few moments later he’s walking back to his room holding two steaming mugs. His eyes light up when he sees me.

“What happened?” I laugh, and he smiles and shakes his head.

“I accidentally slammed my fucking finger in the silverware drawer,” he says, handing me a steaming mug of hot chocolate. I see he made himself a cup of tea. He kisses me good morning, motions for us to sit on his bed, and we bury ourselves under the covers as we happily sip our drinks.

“Thank you for making this for me,” I say, taking a long drink from my mug.

“You’re welcome,” he answers. I flush as he leans over to kiss me deeply again. We sit in silence for several minutes as we finish our drinks and listen to the rain. It’s so peaceful. Graham collects our empty mugs and places them on his bedside table. My period pain has almost completely disappeared and I feel so content. Graham looks at me and begins gently stroking the back of my right hand. His fingers tenderly moving up the back of my hand, across my wrist, and up to my elbow, then back down again. I break out in goosebumps at his touch.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks.

“Better,” I answer. “My cramps are almost gone.”

He nods and his concerned expression turns to one of relief and contentment. We sit in silence for several moments and I enjoy the pleasurable feeling of his fingers moving against my skin. Graham shifts his weight on his bed and suddenly rolls his body on top of mine. I smile and laugh as he pulls a funny face and settles his body weight on top of me.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” I answer, and I laugh as he contorts his face into another ridiculous expression. I playfully slap his bare shoulders and he laughs in return. He looks into my eyes for several long moments and his gaze is so loving and full of want that I’m forced to break his eye contact. Even after all this time, the intimacy is sometimes too much to bear. His hands find my hair, my hands find his hair, and we’re kissing so deeply and passionately until I have to pull away to take a breath. Our cheeks flushed and our gazes locked, he tells me he wants me. I bite my lip and smile and am just about to kiss him again when a thought flashes through my mind.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “You want to now? I don’t want to stain your sheets.”

He laughs warmly and averts his eyes to a spot just beside me on his bed. “I think you already did,” he says smiling, his dark eyes moving between my body and a massive smear of dried blood on his sheets. He leans back to allow me to sit up slightly and glance at the spot of blood on his bed. I’d somehow completely missed this spot until now. I flush with minor embarrassment.

“Fuck, Graham, I’m so sorry – “ I start, but he immediately cuts me off.

“I don’t care at all,” he says, laughing warmly again, his eyes looking into mine. “It doesn’t matter at all. The stain will come out or it won’t. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened before, seeing as we’ve done this so many times…”

He trails off, his brown eyes slightly glinting, and I look back at him and laugh, my embarrassment forgotten. He leans his body weight down onto me again, my fingers intertwining into his messy hair, and I close my eyes as he places light, fluttering kisses across my neck. I lightly gasp as his mouth covers every inch of skin across my neck. I run my hands across the back of his neck and shoulders as he deepens his kisses into my skin. I run my fingers through his hair and gently pull as his tongue runs across my skin and his mouth sucks on my earlobe. His warm breath against my skin; his kissing still so deep and tender; his hands running through my hair as I grip his hair; and I let out a small moan as his tongue dances across me again.

I pull harder at his hair and he makes a small noise in return. I bite my lip and smile when I hear the noise; he is so perfect and so beautiful. “Graham,” I breathe, “this feels really nice.” He slows his kisses, then comes to a pause as he looks at me, his mouth red and swollen.

“I want this so much,” I say, and another small noise escapes his throat indicating that he wholeheartedly agrees. He kisses me deeply for several long moments and I feel his tongue push into my mouth. I open my mouth to receive him and we’re softly moaning as our mouths work steadily together. Our mouths moving perfectly together, I’m forced to break away and gasp for just a moment when I feel his hands slide under my t-shirt and envelop my breasts.

His touch is confident, but gentle; firm, but tender, and I close my eyes and lose myself as his hands work against me. I lift my arms above my head and he swiftly removes my shirt. I breathe harder when he replaces his hands with his mouth and tongue. His tongue now dancing across my chest and his face buried into one breast and then the other, kissing, sucking, and nipping at my skin. I pull his hair again as his mouth sucks on my right nipple. More than anything, though, I love listening to the noises he makes as his mouth works against me. He moans into my chest several times; his moans muffled, but passionate, and I can’t stand it, it sends my mind spiraling.

“That feels so good,” I pant, already feeling like I’m losing myself. My mind clouds with pleasure at his touch and I lean heavily into these feelings. He removes his mouth from my left nipple and looks up at me, a small smile on his lips. He immediately returns his mouth to my breasts, then moves his mouth up slowly, tortuously across my neck, then down to my breasts again, and then even lower as he maneuvers his body down in order for his mouth to cross my stomach. He isn’t moving downwards fast enough and it is becoming difficult to bear. His lips graze my stomach ever so slightly and I whimper as I feel his fingertips dance between my skin and the waistband of my sweatpants. I start to squirm under his touch.

I let out a sharp gasp and buck my hips as he quickly pulls my sweatpants and underwear off in one sudden motion. My clothing now discarded on the floor, I see him smirk and I know he is dragging it out on purpose. I pull his hair as he plants kisses all over my stomach and waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, looking up at me and I smile in return. He positions himself in front of my legs and I sigh when I feel his hands run up and down my closed thighs. He gently kisses my knees several times and tightly squeezes my thighs. Gripping my thighs and gazing directly into my eyes, he commands, “open your legs for me.”

I flush at this request and feeling his hands still gripping my thighs, I part my legs and make a small noise as his eyes move across my body. I’m panting now, my hands gripping the comforter and my eyes closed, I’m leaning into the heady anticipation and it’s unbelievably thrilling.

“Look at me,” he says, and I open my eyes to stare directly into his. It’s overwhelming because he refuses to break eye contact, even when his fingers reach down to touch my tampon string. Neither one of us refusing or daring to break such intense eye contact, we stare at each other as he wraps his fingers around my tampon string and gently pulls my tampon out of my body. I whimper again and bite my lip as I feel him pull it out of me. Without missing a beat, he wraps my tampon in several tissues, tosses it in the wastebasket next to his bed, and lowers himself between my open thighs. He pulls a sharp intake of breath. He says my name several times, but his voice is so choked with arousal and want that I barely register his words.

He begins kissing all across my stomach, waist, and inner thighs; no patch of skin remains uncovered by his mouth. He sucks, nips, and kisses all across my inner thighs, teasing me as much as I can stand. Butterflies dance in my stomach with anticipation and eagerness. “Fuck,” I moan quietly as I feel his tongue drag across my inner thighs. My hips slightly buck again in anticipation.

His fingers gently trace me, becoming smeared with my blood and arousal, and move up and down the length of me before gently parting me. He taps my hips, indicating that he wants me to raise them, and then I feel his hands slide under me and squeeze my backside. I moan at the contact. His hands work against my backside for a few moments as I try to steady my raised hips, but his mouth and tongue begin moving against me in earnest and soon I am riding waves of pleasure that erase everything else from my mind. I moan loudly several times; it feels so unbelievably good. I feel him repeatedly push his tongue inside of me and I bite my wrist to prevent myself from screaming.

My mind sees white and the feelings he’s giving me are so overwhelming that I almost cry out in protest when he pauses for a brief moment and removes his hands from my backside. He grips my thighs to steady me, pulls his tongue out from inside of me, and eagerly kisses and sucks on my inner thighs.

“You sound so beautiful, so perfect. You sound fucking amazing,” he says. “I want to hear you, don’t stop making noise.” I open my eyes, look into his, and feel my cheeks flush.

“How does it feel?” he asks, smirking slightly because he already knows the answer. Seeing his mouth, chin, and nose smeared with my blood makes all of this a million times more arousing.

“Really fucking good,” I say. “Please don’t stop.”

A low hum of satisfaction escapes his throat. His eye lids heavy, he lowers himself again. I gasp and push my hips forward at the renewed contact. His arms and hands snugly wrapped around my thighs, he buries his face into my body, echoing my moans back to me as I grow closer and closer to a release. I’m not thinking anymore and he isn’t holding back. My heart swells with arousal and affection as my hips fall into a rhythm against his mouth. I feel his fingers massage my center and I moan in pleasure and surprise.

“Graham,” I choke out as my brain sees static. Every nerve feels on fire. I feel his tongue tightly circle my center once, twice, three times, then as his mouth applies additional pressure and he sucks on me, sparks set off in my brain and pleasure rushes through my entire body. I can’t even begin to form words, I just grip his hair and attempt to steady my shaking legs as I feel his mouth drink me down and his tongue move in and around me. My head thrown back, moaning and breathing hard, gripping his hair, and his face buried into my body, I couldn’t believe this was happening.

His mouth works in and around me for several incredible moments and he lightly kisses everywhere he can find as my breathing slows and the pleasure recedes. We lay together; my breathing slowing down and my eyes closed, his head resting on my stomach that gently rises and falls. Our hands now intertwined as he plants gentle kisses and leaves small smears of blood all across my waist and abdomen. No words are spoken for several minutes. He eventually pulls himself up, settles his weight on top of me again, and touches my chin to look into my face. He kisses me deeply several times before pulling away and asking, “do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I don’t want to stop.”

He nods, kisses me again, and swiftly pulls out a small tube of lubrication and a box of condoms from his bedside table. He shifts his body weight off me and stands next to his bed. He opens his tube of lubrication, applies it generously across his fingers on his right hand, and then positions himself back onto his bed. Kneeling in front of my open legs, he gathers additional lube and applies it against me. Propping myself up on my elbows and staring into his face with a slightly amused expression, I ask, “do you really think we’ll need all of that?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Probably not,” he says, “but I want you to be comfortable.”

“Are you ready?” he asks, as he slowly parts me again and moves his fingers through me. Desire floods through me again; I want him so badly. “Yes,” I gasp, as he gently taps my center. I nod eagerly; my back slightly arches and my hips push towards him, silently begging him to continue. He slowly and carefully inserts his middle finger into me. I bit my bottom lip and moan at the contact. His finger slides in easily and my body doesn’t resist. I hear him pant and moan slightly as he moves and arches his finger inside of me, my hips involuntarily buck again as he hits something inside of me.

I grip the comforter and moan at the sensation. “It feels so good, Graham” I say. He does this for quite a while, his finger repeatedly hitting something deep inside of me that makes me cry out. “Want to try another one?” he asks, his voice deep, low, and intensely focused, but I peek at his face and his expression is completely consumed with arousal and desire. “God, yes,” I say, and I gasp as his index finger slides in easily next to his middle finger. He pulls both fingers out, then back in, then out, then in again at a steady pace, which he increases slightly as my moans and gasps become louder and more frequent. His fingers push just a little harder and my hips buck at the sensation when I feel the fingers on his left hand massage my center at the same time. I arch my back and move my hips in rhythm with his hands; I know I’m losing myself.

I hear him breathing hard, panting, and moaning as his hands work over my body. I flush deeply as I feel a second orgasm building up within me. I somehow flush even deeper and moan loudly as I hear him moan and say – partly to himself and partly to me, his voice full of amazement – “you’re so fucking wet for me. You feel so good.” A warm sensation of pleasure rushes through me at his words. “Graham,” I say, panting heavily and practically begging, “I’m so close.” Suddenly, he pauses his movements entirely and I allow my back to fall onto the bed in frustration. I groan loudly. “What the fuck?” I practically shout, and he laughs as I run my hands over my face in mock annoyance.

He reaches for the lubrication again, removes his fingers from me, and applies additional lubrication to his right hand and across my entrance. “Ready?” he asks again, his tone slightly cocky, and I groaned yes in answer. With excruciating and deliberate slowness, he inserts his middle finger into me, then his index finger, and finally his ring finger on his right hand is inside of me and I moan at the sensation of his touch. He resumes massaging my center and moving his fingers in and out of me. My body works in sync with his hands and the same desperate noises I made earlier return.

“That feels so good, that feels so good, that feels so good,” I repeat as pleasure careens toward me. My hips buck up, my thighs shake, and my brain sees static as pleasure engulfs my consciousness. I continue to moan as his fingers work inside of me, easing me down from my orgasm, until he gently pulls his fingers from me one at a time and collapses his body weight on top of me as his mouth finds mine.

“Graham, Graham, Graham,” I repeat over and over again between deep kisses. He pauses our kissing for a moment, looks into my eyes and says, “open your mouth.” He raises his right hand and brings his fingers to my mouth. I grip his wrist and eagerly suck on his index, middle, and ring fingers, tasting and swallowing my own arousal and blood. Small, quiet moans escape his throat as he watches my mouth and tongue move across his fingers. Our eyes locked together, we don’t dare break eye contact as my mouth moves to suck on his thumb. Moaning around his fingers, I finally release his thumb from my mouth with a pop and he shakes his head in bewilderment, stands up, quickly removes his jeans and boxers, and reaches for his box of condoms. He’s fully naked now, aside from a thin silver chain around his neck. We hold eye contact for several long moments as I watch him carefully unwrap and delicately roll on a condom.

He climbs back on top of me and holds me close to him for several moments. He wraps me in his arms and buries his face into my neck before planting light kisses all across my jawline and chin. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I know that I never want to let him go. We breathe together for several wonderful moments, our breathing synching together as our chests rise and fall. He whispers my name and I glance up at him. We kiss deeply and passionately for a few moments until he pauses, presses his forehead against mine, and asks again if I am ready. I say yes. A shuddering, unrestrained moan leaves his mouth as he slowly pushes himself into me and he breathes heavily into my neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers, attempting to control himself. “You feel so good.”

He kisses me, presses his forehead against mine again, and speeds up his movements, my hips working to match his rhythm. Watching him fall apart because of my body was sheer ecstasy. His breathing quickens, he moans tight in his throat, then moans louder and more frequently. His eyes close in concentration and focus, his cheeks flush as his hands grip the comforter for support. I roll my hips up into him again and I beg in a choked whisper, “more, Graham, more. Deeper, please.” He does, and he moans loudly as he finds a new speed and force that suits us both. He's panting heavily now, moaning repeatedly, and I can tell he’s close. It’s always amazing to me how well we find a rhythm together. Breaths and moans exchange back and forth, I know I won’t have another orgasm, but being this close to him always makes me feel so unbelievably happy. He loses himself entirely and can’t hold himself back: he pulls out and pushes back inside of me one, two, three times before his body shakes and he collapses onto me.

Time passes – although we’re hardly aware of it – and we lay together. Our breaths slowing and our mouths softly kissing, we talk and whisper to each other for several wonderful, peaceful minutes. He slowly pulls himself from me, stands up, and stretches. He runs his hands through his unbelievably messy hair and I laugh at his expression. His cheeks are flushed a deep crimson, his silver chain necklace is twisted and backwards on his neck, and his sweaty brown hair sticks up at odd angles.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks. He squints at me and sticks his tongue out. “You don’t look much better. Clean yourself up,” he jokes. “You look like you just had sex.” I laugh again. He sees my eyes wander toward his bathroom door.

“Wanna shower with me?” he asks, holding out his hand. I bite my lip and smile, grab his hand, and he swiftly picks me up. My arms slung over his broad shoulders and my legs wrapped around his slender waist, he won’t stop contorting his face into ridiculous and hilarious expressions. I squirm with laughter but his strong arms hold me tight against him. Happiness and laughter flood through our bodies as he walks us into his bathroom and gently sets me down on the counter. He starts the shower and warm steam immediately fills the room and fogs the mirror.

“After you,” he motions, pulling his shower curtain back. I hop off the counter, close his bathroom door, and pull him into the shower with me. Soon, we’re laughing, playfully pushing against each other, and holding each other close as we lose ourselves completely. Time always seems to stand still when I’m with Graham. It’s perfection.

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