#dani writes

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve owning a sphynx cat who is antisocial and always hides when he has people over at his house to the point where people don’t even know he has a cat. Cue Eddie screaming in terror when she makes her presence known on a random Saturday in December.

Steve scolds him for yelling because he’ll startle Princess and Eddie looking at Steve with astonishment, going: “That thing is not a Princess. It’s an abomination! It looks like Gollum!”

Princess hisses before strutting over to where Steve sits on the couch and cuddles up on his chest. And Steve just looks at Eddie like: “She’s my princess if you have a problem with her there’s the door.”

Obviously Eddie’s not stupid enough to walk out on Steve over a damn cat but he’s not exactly thrilled about sharing him with the hairless monstrosity staring at him.

Jokes on him though because within two weeks he and Princess are best friends, always napping together much to Steve’s chagrin. “Guess she likes me better, Stevie.”

“Yeah because you’re both heathens!”

#I saw a video of a hairless cat and here we are #steddie #steddie fic #steddie dicker #steddie Drabble #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington ficlet #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson ticket #stranger things #stranger things fic #Dani writes

[bakuliwrites]

Just to Be Held- Astarion x Reader

I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Baldur's Gate III

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader

Tags: Discussions of sex, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional, body autonomy, Baldur's Gate III spoilers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Affection, Gender-Neutral Tav, Astarion's POV, Tiny Kisses, In this house we cherish and love Astarion the way he deserves to be cherished and loved

Summary: Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Read here or over on my AO3.

Sometimes, when Astarion drinks from you, it's overwhelming. The sensation of his teeth piercing your skin, pin-pricks in your tender flesh, warm blood welling up to greet his lips. He can feel himself drowning, every nerve ending in his body lit aflame. It's almost too much as iron bursts across his taste-buds, flooding his throat with the heat rushing through your veins. 

He drinks to sate and never in excess. He's certain that if he let himself partake in too much of you, his mind might never rest, though it is tempting at times. All the years he's spent in darkness, forced to consume the blood of pests and creatures far less appetizing than you, have left him longing for sweeter meals. But he hadn't accounted for how utterly overwhelming that might be.

When he's finished, he pulls back, breathless and overheated. It's as if he's febrile. Sometimes, he's filled with a clarity, a strength unlike anything he's ever felt before. Other times, his skin feels like it's on fire. Like with the slightest coercion, he might combust. In these moments, all he really wants is to rest. But he’s never known rest, and he’s not quite sure how to ask for such a thing. So he resorts to what he knows: teasing you with tantalizing promises of illicit rendezvous’ or making some sort of snide remark before stalking off into the night.

Sometimes, his encounters with you end in said trysts. Most often, however, they don’t. It’s almost frustrating how unbothered you seem when, after he’s done feeding from you, he doesn’t initiate anything further. You sit almost passively, waiting for Astarion to make a move, seemingly content either way the night ends. If you’re not doing this for sex, he wonders, then why the hell are you helping him at all? Surely, no thinking creature would want something so important as their blood to be taken from them without getting something in return. At least, that’s his logic for it. It almost makes him trust you less for not demanding recompense. 

So, no stranger to confrontation, Astarion decides it’s high time you gave him some sort of explanation. As you enter his tent that night, he greets you with a steely gaze, a frown deepening the lines of his face. 

“Are you alright, Astarion?” you quietly venture, boots crunching over gravel. A small branch snaps under the weight of your steps, causing you to flinch as if the rest of your party is going to hear it from where they slumber. When they don’t come bursting through the tent flaps, your shoulders relax once again and you turn back to the pale elf before you. Your furtiveness is almost endearing, Astarion realizes, and irritatingly so.

“What are you getting out of this little arrangement of ours?” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest and passing you the most petulant gaze he can muster. He watches a look of shock pass over your face, before it settles into something pensive.

“I- I don’t know,” you mutter, “I guess- I haven’t really thought about it as something I would ‘get anything’ out of. It’s just- you need to feed. And I’m happy to provide.”

“You know, most people would expect something in return,” he reasons, dissatisfied with your answer, “It’s not as if what you’re doing is a minor inconvenience for you, like letting me borrow a hanky or something. I’m draining you of something rather necessary for you to live.”

“I mean,” you return with a shrug, looking rather flummoxed by his outburst, “It’s not like you’re taking a lot.” 

“Tsk,” he huffs, realizing he’s not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. Perhaps asking you was a fruitless endeavor from the start. Astarion drops the subject, pouting as you settle in to let him take what he needs from you. You bare your neck to him, relaxing on his bedroll as he leans down to sink his teeth into you. It’s always the same each time: your involuntary gasp as his teeth pierce your flesh, the combination of both his and your relaxed exhales as he drinks. 

Maybe it’s the humid night air or maybe it’s his own frustration, but Astarion feels the fever in him build with each sip he takes from you. A pyretic euphoria, born of longing for blood more nourishing than what he had to resort to for two whole centuries. He feels satiated by you and it’s almost- embarrassing. He feels mortified to react so viscerally, so enthusiastically. He pulls back suddenly, watching you wince as he roughly removes himself from your neck. But the irritation on your face dissipates when you meet his gaze. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you offer, your voice so gentle, it hurts him, “You seem preoccupied.”

Astarion hardens his gaze, gritting his teeth and opting to remain silent. Of course he’s preoccupied, but it’s nothing he wants to delve into. Least of all with you. But instead you decide to pry, speaking up with a tender, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly, no,” he returns, glancing sheepishly away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, crimson smearing his pale skin. He bites the inside of his cheek, snagging it with his sharpened canine, hoping it’ll stop the stinging threat of tears in his eyes. 

“You can go now. I’m done with you,” he coldly spits, avoiding your gaze. He hears the rustle of fabric as you obediently lift yourself from his bedroll and make your way to the tent flap. But instead of opening it and leaving like you normally would, you pause, your hand grasping the fabric. 

“I like being with you,” you quietly explain, turning to face the vampire spawn, “You asked me what I get out of this arrangement of ours. Well, I just- I guess I just like you.”

Astarion frowns, arms still crossed and posture stiff as a board. But he can’t hold his silver-tongue, despite his upset. 

“Unfortunate, really,” he murmurs, unable to help the smile tugging at his lips when you laugh. 

“I don’t need to ‘get anything’ out of this time with you,” you go on, letting go of the tent flap and striding back towards him. You kneel down, eyes filled with a brightness Astarion can hardly believe is meant for him. A silence passes as you wait for him to respond. He fidgets with his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists before he finally allows his shoulders to slump and an exhausted sigh to escape his lips. His body still feels overworked, heated and unable to settle. 

“I assumed that sex was what you wanted from me,” he starts, still unable to look you in the eye, “Stupid assumption. It’s the only thing I’m-”

It’s the only thing I’m good for, he wants to say, but stops himself. 

“Well, let’s be honest,” he chuckles ruefully, trying to divert your attention from his unfinished statement, “I wanted that, too. I mean, how could I not.” He says this with a sly smile, something impish twinkling in his eyes as he sweeps over your form. But then his face falls and he casts his glance to the ground again.  

“It’s just- sex isn’t always what I want,” he finishes, “And I assumed that it’s what you wanted. So I guess I was- I don’t know- worried that you would be disappointed when we don’t tear each other apart like animals every time I feed from you.”

Another pause, this time filled with anticipation. With anxiety. For some reason, when Astarion has been around you lately, he’s found himself incapable of holding his tongue. He spills his thoughts left and right to you. It’s terrifying, the effect you seem to be having on him. It’s taken him a long time, but still, he isn’t sure he should trust you. Yet here he is, regurgitating deep-seated fears that are better left buried in the rot that’s bloomed in his mind. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he hears you whisper, pulling him from worry, coaxing him from the tendrils of self-hatred and disgust that have entangled him for two hundred years. He glances at you, disbelief in his crimson eyes before a rueful smile breaks his shock.

“You are far too kind to me,” he chuckles, a cocky smile on his face. 

“I mean it,” you return, brows crinkling your forehead, “We don’t even have to touch if you don’t want to. And if you don’t want to keep this arrangement anymore, that’s totally fine. I’d be happy to help you find another source of food. I won’t be hurt.” 

He eyes you suspiciously, scanning you for any hint that you might burst out laughing at some sort of cruel joke you’ve made, or some sign that you’re absolutely bullshitting him. The look you’re giving him is almost naive. He scowls, nauseated by your sincerity.

“Well, I don’t mind physical affection,” he mutters, desperately trying to hold on to his air of indifference, “Just-”

His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away?

“All I’ve ever been is used,” Astarion admits, wondering if he’ll regret this admission later. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, like it always does. “I don’t get a say in what happens to my body. I don’t get a say in what happens to me at all.” 

“Astarion,” you breathe, gently cupping his face and turning his head so he can meet your gaze. His eyes are filled with a deep sorrow, the desolation of two hundred years scarring every crimson facet of his irises. In you, he sees no ounce of malice, no smarmy flattery, or deceit. All he sees is you, offering him your kindness, offering your companionship, expecting nothing in return. 

“What do you want?” you go on, “Right here. Right now.” 

Astarion’s mouth goes dry. His blood, your blood, threads through his veins like white hot needles. His nerves feel open to the air, every brush of the wind on his skin like lightning shooting through his body. Overwhelmed. He’s so overwhelmed.

“I just want to be held,” he finally whispers, and the absolute devastation in his voice threatens to break what little composure is left in that tent. 

“I think I can do that,” you return, smiling softly. You let him take the lead, laying back on the soft bedroll beneath, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do. He sits beside you, cautious. He is raw and he is new, shivering from his overworked nerves, cold from the overpowering feeling of sweet blood in his body. 

Gently, Astarion lays his head down on your chest and tenses, unsure of what to do. When was the last time he was gifted a moment to just rest? To just lay in the arms of another? He can’t remember, and thus, he can’t even remember how to relax. He shifts uncomfortably where he lays, trying to find some position where his arm isn’t falling asleep. You give no protest, patient as he rearranges himself. Finally, he finds something suitable and goes back to resting his head on your chest. 

“I can stay as long as you’d like me to,” you offer, your voice reverberating through your body, before you both fall quiet.

In the silence, Astarion listens to the powerful thrum of your heart, the way it beats in rhythm to an unsung tune. He hears the air constrict in your lungs when he first rests his head upon you, before you let out a deep, comforting sigh. Crickets chirp in a jovial dissonance beyond the fabric of the tent and a wolf howls sorrowfully somewhere in the distance. 

Astarion can still taste the metal of your blood on his tongue. He can smell it rushing through your veins, nourishing and enticing. It mingles with the faint smell of whatever makes you you, whatever pleasant natural musk you have that has become so comfortingly familiar over the months. The curling smoke of the fire outside has woven itself into your clothing, though it is not unpleasant in scent. 

Astarion glances up at you from where he lays, studying your serene face. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes feathering shadows on your cheeks. Your mouth is parted ever so slightly as you doze, lips evoking pleasant memories of the way they’ve felt against his skin in nights past. He lets his eyes rove for a moment, searching the tent ceiling as if he’ll find something particularly interesting up there. He doesn’t, except for a small hole he’ll have to patch, come morning. Though, it is nice to see a couple twinkling stars peeking through the broken fabric. 

As his eyes flutter shut, Astarion feels the heat from your body, cozy and benevolent. He presses further into you, wanting desperately to feel your closeness. In response, your arm wraps around him, pulling him nearer. Your nails tickle his back as you rub small circles into it. Snowy ringlets caress his forehead when a breeze picks up the fine strands of his hair. The earth beneath him isn’t terribly comfortable, but between you and the bedroll, he doesn’t much care. 

For the first time in two centuries, Astarion thinks he might feel peace. It’s very possible, he decides, that in this quiet moment, he feels safe. In your arms, he could let down his defenses. Wrapped in your warmth, Astarion could allow himself to be vulnerable. 

He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, quietly whispering that he’d like it if you stayed the rest of the night.

"Also, if you could possibly not tell the others about this?" he adds, somewhat jokingly, "Can't let them think I've gone soft."

"Your secret's safe with me," you chuckle, before smiling softly at him and pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He lets the feeling wash over him, calm and comfort him. When his body settles, when his mind finally manages to quiet, Astarion lets his eyelids fall shut. He lets you envelope him in your embrace. He lets himself sleep, knowing he’s safe with you. Astarion lets himself dream, and they’re the first pleasant dreams he’s had in centuries.  

A/N: I normally do a banner for my fics, but I really wanted to use this gif I had made of one of my favorite Astarion cutscenes. It's where he admits to Tav that they're the first "thinking creature," as he puts it, that he's ever drank from. The line delivery is incredible, the way Astarion looks away is so heartbreaking and endearing. This small moment of vulnerability is one of the first ones we see from him and it just feels so special. I wanted to write a fic exploring how he might feel in regards to Tav letting him have the freedom of feeding from them. And I wanted to explore the idea that Astarion might find it odd if Tav doesn't expect anything in return. There's a later line in one of his cutscenes where he's very obviously self-conscious about the fact that he and Tav haven't been intimate in a while. His sense of self and value is so contingent on the fact that his body has been used for two hundred years. I wanted to write something for Astarion that would give him a peace, gentility, and rest, without sexual intimacy. Anyway, I could ramble on and on about this forever. Perhaps I need to make a longer post about it, so I'll get on that.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #tw: blood #baldurs gate spoilers #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion spoilers #fluff #comfort #body autonomy #astarion learning to be vulnerable #and to love himself #astarion love and light of my life #dani writes #my fanfiction #my gifs #gifset #tw: blood drinking #tw: heavy conversations

[biscuityskies]

Shit writing Saturday <3

Haven’t done one of these in a while! To be fair… haven’t written smth I was excited to share in a while. Here’s this!! Lmk what you think 🥰🥰

Cody continues to stare, unseeing, out the viewport.

“I don’t know these stars,” he murmurs finally.

Kenobi says nothing. Cody knows he’s listening all the same.

“When I… grew up, on Kamino. There were rare cloudless nights. The seas would still for maybe only a few hours at a time, and the clouds would part around these brilliant points of light in a pitch black sky.”

He closes his eyes. He can just about see it; the rain-slicked platform, the cadets all hushing each other as they hurried outside, hoping no longnecks would catch them, no trainers would see them. Hoping that Fett himself was asleep, that his own cadet had been enough of a handful that day that Fett wouldn’t catch them either, all of them breaking rules.

“We would find our way around the biggest stars, first. The brightest. The ones that were always there. Those were our trainers. The guiding stars to direct us to where we needed to look. And then… we started naming the other stars. And we named them after ourselves. After each other. Our batchers, our squaddies, anyone. There were so many stars in the sky… but there were so many of us, too, what felt like enough to give each of those stars a name. The command formation has me, Bly, Fox, Wolffe, and Ponds, about two fingers’ width up from the star that was Alpha-17.

“Each of those names on that report—” Strato. Pusher. Scald. Cinder. Fuck, he knew where each of their stars was.

His eyes snap open again. Unfamiliar stars fall past him. It’s a cold sort of comfort, to distance himself from the urge to scream that rises in his throat.

“Cody,” Kenobi whispers, near silent.

He drops his forehead to his knees. “A swath of the sky has gone dark,” he replies. “And there’s nothing I can do.”

#dani writes #codywan #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #shit writing Saturday #wip weekend #this fic makes me insane actually #this shit came to me one night and then BOOM it was on the document idk about anything in between

[deludedfantasy]

Chapter 3 of Ordinary Days is here! Enjoy 13k words of Nico having a totally normal day until a stranger arrives in Haven.

Fandom: Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood Characters: Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Original Characters Additional Tags: Post-Canon, post trimax, Resurrection, Nicholas D. Wolfwood Lives, Amnesia, Amnesiac Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slice of Life Summary: Haven isn’t a place where you’d expect miracles to happen, so when Vash arrives with Meryl and Milly, he’s expecting a quiet few days to relax while the girls research their next story. He’s not prepared to find Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the man he mourned and buried two years ago, moving and breathing and very much alive. And also missing all of his memories. To Nico, Haven is home. He might not remember his past or the kind of person he was before he stumbled into Haven’s welcoming arms, but he’s happy. Sometimes, he’s not sure he wants to know any of that seeing as his first memory is digging himself out of the grave. But when Vash the Stampede comes to town, he raises all kinds of questions about who Nico really is and he’s determined to get answers. Even if the idiot keeps trying to dodge him. A story about finding home, rediscovering love, and finally using your blank ticket to the future.

#trigun #trigun maximum #trimax #vashwood #trigun fanfic #vashwood fanfic #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #ordinary days vibes #dani writes

[stripeydani]

WIP Tag!

I was tagged by @thlayli-ra to share a WIP... I will tag @randyortonofficial @superkickme @anonybaby and @mightymizora to share a WIP of a fic... (no pressure ofc, I'm just partaking in something for once xD)

It's rough and completely unpolished at this point, but here is the beginning of the follow up/sequel to 'Told You So' the Cody/Randy fic I started last week: -

Things had once again not gone as planned.  

All week he, Seth, and Jey had traded messages, phone calls, discussing how they were going to get themselves back ahead of the Bloodline. It didn’t matter that Cody wasn’t medically cleared, because he wasn’t going to get hurt. They were so confident. They thought they had it. They were convinced their plan would work.  

But once again it was like coming up against a, for want of a better word, a rock. The Rock. And their plan fell apart quicker than they could improvise for. For not the first time Cody wished they had a bit more help, that they’d tried getting the Smackdown guys on side sooner. He may not want Randy helping, but he wouldn’t have said no to LA Knight’s music hitting when things started to go south.  

After showing the fans they were okay, and checking on each other, Cody and Seth headed backstage, still united even if they were beaten and bruised yet again. Seth had a nasty looking bump on his cheek, and they were both sporting impressive welts from Cody’s very own weight belt. The little details that make it just that bit more humiliating. He had to admit the Rock was good.  

Cody was dragging his feet from more than just the pain radiating along his back. He was dreading seeing Randy. He knew he was in trouble. Randy was a professional, and he was very clear that if you weren’t medically cleared, you did not wrestle. Ever since coming back from his injury he was even more adamant about it, which while understandable, often clashed with Cody’s own approach to his vocation.  

“What the hell was that?”  

Cody tried not to sigh too heavily as he brought his eyes up. Of course Randy was waiting for him right outside gorilla, not content to just wait for Cody to finally drag himself there when he couldn’t delay it any longer.  

“Get your ass back to the bus, now. We’re talking about this.”   [lmao Cody is in trouble for being a very naughty boy]

#cody randy #wip #dani writes

[reedroad]

i wrote a fic where shin and sabine just sort of fist fight each other as a form of bonding

#wolfwren #sabine wren #shin hati #sabine/shin #star wars ahsoka #star wars #ok im done tagging shit i cant be bothered #i havent posted a fic directly to this account in YEARS #dani writes

[safyresky]

Smile Shot: Seeing Red

Jacqueline has a crisis over Rankin-Bass's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

aka, THEY BULLIED AN ACTUAL BABY, JACK!

---

"They were actually SO MEAN to Rudolph."

Jack shut the door behind him, one eyebrow delicately raised as he watched his sister fuss behind his bar, pouring things from his mini-fridge into a tumbler. "Hello to you too, little flurry. Why are you in my condo."

"Because I'm having a PROBLEM with RUDOLPH, okay?"

"And you couldn't have dropped a line? You HAD to come here?" Tossing his keys on the side table and kicking off his shoes, Jack made his way to the bar, sliding onto one of the stools.

"YES." Frowning, she sealed the tumbler shut, shaking it up intensely. "Like. He was born with a red nose that glows. And they bullied the FUCK outta him, dude! Like, right out the gate! He couldn't even WALK and his Dad was like 'what the fuck is this?!'"

Jack chuckled, the mid-century sports announcer voice Jacqueline had used to imitate Rudolph's father nearly bang on.

"And then! Fucking SANTA CLAUS walks into the cave and is like 'WOW! LOOK AT THIS CALF! OH WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT NOSE?' like, even SANTA was being mean to him! SANTA!" Placing the tumbler down, she rummaged below the counter top, pulling out two whisky glasses.

"To be fair, Santa is a bit of a dick."

The mini-fridge below the bar whipped open, bottles clinking. She placed whipped cream on the counter, a small bottle of chocolate sprinkles appearing beside it. "But the Rankin-Bass Santa ISN'T Scott, Jack! He isn't Scott!" the fridge door slammed, Jacqueline popping back up, hands on her hips. "He's so WHOLESOME in Santa Claus is Comin' to Town and in Rudolph he is LITERALLY bullying a freshly born baby!!!! A freshly!" she unscrewed the tumbler cap. "Born!" pulling the glasses close, she poured the chocolatey looking mixture into both of them. "Baby!"

"Rankin-Bass?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't think I stuttered."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. "Didn't the Rudolph film come before the Santa one?"

Now it was Jacqueline's turn to look thoughtful as she shook the can of whipped cream. "I think so, yes."

"Well at least they fixed Santa's bizz for that one."

"I mean. I GUESS. But they still bullied an actual baby, Jack." She wrinkled her nose, pushing down on the spout and topping the two drinks with whipped cream. Opening up the sprinkles, she gently tapped the bottle, a substantial amount of sprinkles fluttering down onto the whipped cream. "Here, you have to try this monstrosity."

Jack reached out, grabbing the cup that Jacqueline slid his way. He tilted it expectantly; with a feral grin, she clinked her cup against his before taking a frothy whipped cream filled sip, Jack following suite.

"Mmm, monstrosity indeed, what is in this? Chocolate? More chocolate? Only chocolate?"

"Chocolate milk AND Irish cream! Mostly chocolate milk. It's like, 3 parts to one. Then there's the sprinkles, too. I like chocolate."

"I never would've guessed."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes. "Dude! I am having a CRISIS and you are making fun of me? Your cute wee little sister? In the midst of her MASSIVE CRISIS?"

"You are having a crisis over Rudolph, Jacqueline."

"It's VALID! I mean, if I had been born with a bright red nose, would you have been like 'sorry Jacqueline, you simply cannot Jack Frost with THAT schnoz.' like???? Do you see? My problem?"

"You were born with a red nose though. You were very red all over, actually. And squishy. And loud."

Jacqueline blinked. "You held me right after I was born?"

"Well, duh. I mean, after Mom and Dad, of course. I figured it was well earned given that I spent the entire time you were being born fending off Spring."

"Ou. Felt. You'll never guess what I was doing when the Twins were being born."

"Fighting Aunt Spring?"

"Fighting Aunt Spring." she nodded sagely, taking another sip before continuing. "Cute lil' red nose aside, you didn't banish me from Jack Frost-ing because of it! Like, Santa literally sees the nose and is all 'well. You can't pull my sleigh like THAT' and it's like DAMN bitch, bold of you to assume he'd even WANT to! They act like it's some kinda big HONOUR—"

"And it really isn't! Lugging old fatty around and all those gifts? Honestly, their sense of what is and isn't a Big Deal is...concerning."

"And then he pulls the most Jack-shaped card ever and sings about how he's going to fly in his magic sleigh because he's the king?"

"EXCUSE you, are you making fun of me, your delightful older brother, in the midst of your Rudolph imposed crisis?"

"No fucking shit Mister North Pole, North Pole."

Jack put his hands up. "Alright, fine. I'll give you that one. But I WILL remember it."

"I look forward to the ensuing snowball which I will surely dodge."

"That'll be the day," Jack chuckled, leaning to the right as snow flew right past his left, landing with a splat on the wall across them. "Do you mind? That wallpaper is ancient!"

"Just like you!"

Jack frowned, grumbling to himself as he took another sip of his drink. "I will kick you out, Jacqueline."

"Nooo don't!! I have so much to say about Rudolph Jack, come on. Come on. You GOTTA hear what I have to say. I'm just so—" her hands stilled for a moment, hovering just in front of her face as she sought out a word— "BOGGLED by it and so mad, you HAVE to hear my ranting and raving PRETTY please, it's the LEAST you could do after the whole North Pole, North Pole thing."

Jack snickered, taking another sip and crossing one leg over the other. "Alright little flurry, out with it. Let's hear this critic rave."

"THANK you! OKAY RIGHT SO LIKE. He's born with this glowing red nose, and his dad's immediate solution after Santa says he's not gonna make the team is to COVER HIS NOSE. WITH DIRT. TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A REGULAR OLD NOSE. Jack. There's no WAY he could breath through that thing, no FUCKING way! And you know, his mom was all 'we can learn to overlook it' which isn't really ACCEPTANCE but like, it's BETTER than being like HEY LET'S FUCKING HIDE IT AND TELL THIS KID HE ISN'T NORMAL AND MAKE HIM CONFORM UNCOMFORTABLY. OH? HE CAN'T BREATH? WELL! GUESS HE'LL DIE!"

Jack found himself laughing softly to himself. "You. You're really fired up about this."

"I AM! And I don't know WHY!"

"Is it maybe because—"

"We're not psychoanalyzing this, Jack."

"Just ranting?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, don't let me stop you."

"Oh, I won't." She took a long drag of her drink before continuing like nothing had happened. "So THEN he goes to the reindeer games and is like, the TOP of his class. He's THE ace. The reindeer that was teaching them was like YOU'LL MAKE THE TEAM IN NO TIME and you can practically HEAR Donner chortling in the background because it seems like he's got some kind of ISSUES about leading Santa's sleigh that he's projecting onto Rudolph, but that's a subject for another time! So he's rocking these reindeer games and then his PROSTHETIC NOSE comes off and suddenly it's all HAHA LOSER G-T-F-O YOU'RE NOT MAKING THE TEAM. Like really? Does Santa care THAT much about reindeer aesthetic? I mean, LOOK AT THE MAN!"

Jack snorted into his drink, whipped cream poofing right off the top and onto the counter. "HA! Get his ass, Jacquie. The man has NO sense of style! I saw him in jeans the other day, and let me tell you. Nightmare scenario."

Jacqueline laughed. "It can't be that bad."

"He was going for Canadian lumberjack chic and he was WAY OFF THE MARK."

"B-Man was telling me the other day that apparently he has this embroidered blazer?"

"His initials embroidered in gold, Jacqueline. GOLD. On the most GARISH red. He claims it's the same colour as the jacket! It's not. It's the red artists WARN YOU about."

"Like Rudolph's nose?"

"Excuse me, who's being mean to a literal baby now?"

"Okay well in my defence, it is A) a colour comparison and B) at this point in the movie he is one year old which is APPARENTLY old enough to run away."

"Well that escalated quickly."

"I mean, he met this girl who was like 'oh, I think you're perfect just the way you are—" Jacqueline spoke in a high falsetto, folding her hands and fluttering her eyelashes for a brief moment. Jack chuckled, swallowing it when she suddenly SLAMMED her hands onto the counter top. "—and BAM. HER DAD FINDS OUT AND SAYS NO DOE OF HIS WILL BE WITH A RED NOSED REINDEER!"

"Ou, ouch."

"Right? I'd run away too. So! Off he fucks with the elf that wants to be a dentist and is ostracized for it, and a prospector who has literally NO IDEA WHERE THE GOLD RUSH IS. He's like 'this south of the Hudson's Bay!' and I'm like 'sir, your grasp of geography is troubling. I'm pretty sure you're north since you ran into these guys at the NORTH FUCKING POLE! And then they get to the ISLAND of MISFIT TOYS. AND ARE TOLD THAT THEY ARE TOO MISFIT TO BE THERE. THIS GUY JUST CAN'T CATCH A BREAK!"

"And nor can you!"

"I KNOW you're being sarcastic but I'm taking it seriously because I am having a moment. Need a top off?"

"I'm going to need something a lot stronger if I have to keep listening to this." Sliding off the stool, Jack made his way behind the bar, shoving Jacqueline down the counter as he rummaged around for the good whisky. Since, you know. She had used the whisky glasses for this chocolate...thing.

"Felt," Jacqueline agreed, watching as Jack rinsed the glass and poured his preferred drink. She smiled to herself when he reached for her tumbler and topped her off, passing her the whipped cream can.

"And can you pass the sprinkles?"

They slid down the counter, gently bonking into her glass.

"Thank you! You're the best!"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, you're the best."

"Care to say that one more time?"

"What, can't hear in your old age? Don't push it, Jack," she served him with an icy look worthy of Winter herself, managing to hold it just long enough before a grin split her face, eyes crinkling at the corners as she swayed into him.

"Alright, alright," Jack conceded, swaying back. "So. Island of Misfit Toys."

"Right! Yeah! So they get told they CAN'T stay there, except for maybe a night, and maybe could you please tell Santa about us? And they agree to if they ever go back to the Pole which to be honest, I wouldn't if I was treated like THAT. And then RUDOLPH runs AWAY from the other misfits because of the YETI?!?!?!?! Wilding. I didn't think yetis were that bad. The ones at home seem pretty chill, and make a mean snow cone."

"Lots of groups are perfectly pleasant but have one bad apple. Maybe the yeti is the bad apple of the yetis in the movie? Why am I entertaining this?"

"Because you love your lil' sister? Because alcohol? Because snow business today has been impossible and this is leagues better than work? Because fuck El Niño events? Because it's four in the morning and we're both operating on like zero sleep thanks to that funky lil' guy?"

"And instead of sleeping when you finished you got mad about Rudolph."

"I mean. YES but it was ACCIDENTAL! I fully intended to sleep on the couch as it played but then Donner opened his stupid reindeer mouth and now I need to yell! Lady above, do you know what the WORST PART about this WHOLE THING is?"

"What?"

"At the END of the movie they're all like 'we're cool with this red nosed reindeer thing now' which is one thing. But then there's the OTHER THING. Which is that the MOMENT Santa goes OH! RUDOLPH! YOUR NOSE! And he leads the sleigh through an absolutely brilliant snowstorm, everyone's like woo! Yay! He's USEFUL to SOCIETY! And fucking DONNER. HE'S LIKE 'I KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU THE ENTIRE TIME, BOY!' Um, HELLO?! NO HE DID NOT! FORTY MINUTES EARLIER HE WAS LAMENTING THAT HE'D NEVER MAKE THE TEAM BECAUSE OF HIS NOSE AND TRYING TO ERASE IT FROM EXISTENCE!"

Jacqueline sighed, looking down at the liquid in her glass. She swirled her cup, the liquid whooshing about, the whipped cream barely moving. Jack waited a beat, swirling his own glass and conjuring extra ice when the clink didn't sound clinky enough.

"I'm sad about snow business this year."

Ah. There it was.

"Oh?"

Jacqueline nodded. "This time last year, we shut down the 401, Jack. We inconvenienced ALL of Eastern Ontario. It was great. It was gorgeous. Now? All I was able to do was freeze the puddles in the cracks and dents in the road because of all the rain. RAIN. IN DECEMBER." she huffed, blowing the little flyaway hairs off of her brow.

Jack shifted into a lean, surveying his sister closely. He sniffed. He took a sip of his drink. Swirled the ice cubes. Enjoyed the delightful clink. "You know, Jacqueline...we've still got three more months of winter left."

She perked up a bit.

"By all accounts and purposes, we're only just getting started. At least I am." He shifted his weight again, pulling back his jacket and propping his hand on his hip. "You ah, giving up that easy this season?"

"Give up? Give UP?!" lively now, she shot up, looking aghast. "I haven't given UP. I've just. Y'know. Hit a bit of a snag and gotten a little stuck on Rudolph is all."

"That's the spirit! Now, December may be ending on a warmer note. And yes, it's maddeningly frustrating. But January is just around the corner and there will be plenty of opportunity to whip up one hell of a snowstorm. We may not close the highways again, but I'm hoping for a good amount of slipping and sliding and snow STAYING on the ground. Sound good?"

"Good? GOOD? It sounds AMAZING. Absolutely delightful! IDEAL, to be honest."

"There we go! Don't let December get you down just yet! It's almost over! January is right around the corner and so is our wintry weather! We just have to wait a bit. I mean, if we want. We can keep trying for snow, of course! I think a few flurries can manage the temps. But only after a good. Night's. Rest," he poked her shoulder on each of the last three words, satisfied when she laughed a little.

"I GUESS I could benefit from some sleep."

"Then maybe you'd be less of a, what was it you said the other day? Sad sack?"

"I did say that, yes."

"And then you could go flurry crazy right across the hemisphere!"

"That sounds very fun."

"Mmm, doesn't it just? So, how about this: you can stay the night here since I know you're going to ask anyway and you've practically got a second closet going in the second spare room—"

"It's just so easy to stop in Gstaad while doing the rounds! It's, like, central! And so pretty."

"—you know what I'm hearing? I'm hearing it's free real estate, Jack. I should charge you rent."

"There's no need for that! You can crash at my place any time. You know. Once it's in shape enough for metaphorical crashing, not. Not literal crashing. We're having floorboard issues, so we've gotta repair a bunch and then like, lacquer them, or something? Dite was explaining it to me but it went in one ear and right out the other. She looked real cute in the paint stained overalls and I was hella distracted about it."

"I believe the term you're looking for is sealant."

"Sure. If you say so."

Jack blinked. "Right. Anyway! You can stay the night, we'll go out for some breaki in the morning and after that how about some flurries, hmm?"

"They are my specialty!"

"And in the meantime! Since we've got these drinks to finish. How about something...less rage inducing, hmm?"

"Santa Claus is Comin' to Town?"

"If we must."

"I'll go grab my boxed set!"

Before Jack could say anything, she poofed away. He frowned, waving some snow off the counter top just in time for her to reappear and flurry all over it again, flourishing what looked to be a DVD boxed set of all the Rankin Bass specials.

"Keep doing this after a day of no sleep and you'll be well on your way to a sprite sleep."

"No I won't! I'm too excited to sleep."

Jack smiled to himself, pushing off the counter top and gesturing her towards the flat screen. "Some things never change," he murmured, shooing her forward. "You know what makes those old stop motion films so great?"

"What?"

"The way they tell the story using the song. And the staging! Of puppets! Jules's background was actually more musically inclined, and it showed. You know, without his musical expertise, I bet that the films wouldn't be NEARLY as classic as they're considered to be today."

Jacqueline laughed. "You would know that."

"That and many other things! Now then! Let's watch, shall we? Angry flurries aren't as nice as cheery flurries."

Grabbing a fuzzy throw blanket that Jack definitely didn't put on the couch (didn't even remember buying, in fact), Jacqueline bundled up, settling in. "You're the boss!"

#SO I WATCHED RUDOLPH THE OTHER NIGHT AND HAD SOME THOUGHTS #AND JACQUELINE. OF COURSE. TOOK THE REIGNS. AS SHE IS WONT TO DO. #and the first bit of this happened before i passed out #so NOW i have REWATCHED RUDOLPH and tided it up to give you CONTENT #since i have been lacking in that the past two weeks #and this one was silly with some silly moments and the like i HAD to share it #idk what the end point was. sometimes fluff can just be fluff! #fluff can just be fluff! #crystal springs #smile shots #dani writes #cold front #the santa clause #the santa clause 3 #jack frost #tsc jack frost #ocs #fanfic #jacqueline frost #upon finishing a day later i learnt that the warm December and lack of snow apparently got jacquie down as bad as me #i love writing 🥰🥰🥰 #love when fluff for the sake of fluff turns into comfort and HEALS ✨✨✨ #WE LOVE TO SEE THE COLD FRONT PLOTTING VICTORIES #also. an aside. i got a boxed set of the complete rankin bass collection last year #and i learnt soo much from the bts #it was AMAZING #made me go 'huh. jack WOULD love these movies. cribmas themes aside' #this is the spiritual sequel to the smile shot movie night lol #ANYWAY ENJOY #I HOPE IT BRINGS YOU JOY.

[dovesnroses]

Seven Wonders

Pairing: Eddie x Henderson! Reader

Slight spoilers for Season 4

A/N: Just some self indulgent Eddie blurbs. I’ve been wanting to write for Eddie for a while.

——-

Your eyes squint open, adjusting to the right side up of Eddie’s trailer. His eyes are so much browner, so much kinder in the yellow lamp light. And you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. Eddie reaches his hand down to you, and you grasp it firmly. He quickly pulls you to your feet, the strength forcing you to stumble into him to get your bearings. His other hand grips your waist to steady you, and for a brief moment, the world pauses. You look up behind lashes to those doe eyes, and he chuckles sweetly.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You stand to full height, foreheads briefly brush against each other. “Hi,” you murmur. Eddie’s hands feel warm and real against you, and for a moment everything goes away. No Vecna, no mind flayer, no upside down.

Things click.

And Eddie must realize it, too, because his expression is one you’ve never seen, but it makes your heart race in a very good way. He opens his mouth to speak -

Dustin claps his hands and breaks the spell. “Can the two of you PLEASE quit making eyes at each other and MOVE so Nancy and Steve can come UP!?”

Eddie quickly pulls away, but his hands linger on your hip for a second longer. Immediately, you hate the absence of his touch. Cheeks burning, you turn and glare at your brother, who’s still looking exasperated, “Don’t give me that look! You can make out after we’ve dealt with all this shit, okay?!”

You throw your hands up in the air and stalk towards Robin to stew at how, even with the world ending, Dustin is here to ruin your life.

Robin gives you a moment to pout before she leans over so only you can hear, “In his defense, it did look like the two of you were about to make it right here on the floor,”

“Robin-!”

“Just saying what we all saw,”

#stranger things #stranger things blurb #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #Eddie Munson blurb #Dani writes

[endupherefic]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: The Arcana (Visual Novel) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana), Nadia (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s), Lucio/Nadia (The Arcana) Characters: Julian Devorak, Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio Morgasson, Montag Morgasson - Character, Apprentice (The Arcana), Nazali Satrinava, Nadia Satrinava, Nadia (The Arcana), Original Female Character(s), Valdemar (The Arcana), Volta (The Arcana), Vulgora (The Arcana), Vlastomil (The Arcana), The Devil | Lucio's Patron (The Arcana), Count Spada, Asra (The Arcana), Salim Alnazar, Aisha Alnazar Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, Blood, Injury, Mild Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Romance, Slow Burn, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Julian's POV, Lucio's POV, mentions of amputation, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Alcohol, Plague, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Red Plague (The Arcana), Collar play, Threesome, Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism Summary: A chronicle of Julian, Lucio, and the Apprentice's journey through life together.

Chapter One, The Past: First Meetings

Montag’s eyes are wild, piercing and bright despite his overall weakness. Julian can feel them boring into him from across the room, their keenness unnerving in the dim light of the medical tent. Montag is not what Julian had been expecting when he had first heard that Count Spada, himself, had requested the presence of the battle-hardened mercenary for this war. Julian wouldn’t have been surprised if some hulking, brooding, ancient, beast-of-a-man hacked his way through the battlefield and came storming into Julian’s tent. But Montag Morgasson is quite the opposite: lean and compact, his youthful features sharp but delicate. His blonde hair, though grimy now with sweat and dirt, is otherwise silken in quality. He’s striking, really. But what is most striking about him, Julian notes, are his eyes. Montag’s eyes are almost as pale as the moon, feral and glimmering with determination. It’s hard for Julian not to lose himself completely in them...

Continue reading on AO3

#the arcana #julian devorak #lucio morgasson #julian x lucio #julian x apprentice #lucio x apprentice #julian x lucio x apprentice #polyamory #ao3 fic #my fanfiction #my writing #dani writes #euh fanfic #euh: the past #julcio #jucio #the arcana fanfic

[valhallaas]

COD: MODERN WARFARE II

Simon GHOST Riley

Is There Somewhere

Valkyrie (series)

TRIPLE FRONTIER

Benny Miller

Sweet Like Honey

MARVEL

Bucky Barnes

Ghost of You

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Rooster Bradshaw

This bird You Cannot Change

How Sweet It Is

That’s My Girl

I’ve Got Sunshine

On My Own

Hangman Seresin

A Love Like Religion

Love Me Tender

California Dreamin’

Lovin, Touchin’, Squeezin’

Sun Across The Sky

I’ve Got Sunshine

Bob Floyd

Lonely Boy Far From Home

#masterlist #my writing #writing #Dani writes #Valhallaas writes

[arcsimper5]

Yaim'ol - Chapter 6 - Returns

yaim'ol - [yai-MOHL] - return, homecoming

Pairing: Sev x F!Jedi OC, Scorch x F!Jedi OC Characters: Delta Squad (Republic Commando), F!Jedi OC Cin Rating: M - Explicit content in later chapters Warnings: Gore, Canon-typical violence, angst, smut (later chapters), descriptions of injury, force osik.

Following on from the end of Republic Commando, Sev and Cin must make their way through the galaxy, overcoming trials and tests in a bid to keep themselves alive long enough to reunite with their squad.

“You sure about this, mesh’la?”

Sev’s tone was stern and low, an indication of his discomfort at the situation they found themselves in.

Being back in his full armour had never felt so foreign, the weight of it no longer a comfort.

He hadn’t repainted it. No point. He doubted he’d be able to hold back if anyone went for Cin. Better they knew who’d taken them down, or who’d died fighting for what little freedom he had left.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding slowly, sounding almost as if she was trying to convince herself, “yeah. I… I need to know.”

It was a risk, she knew that. Returning to Coruscant felt almost like a death sentence, regardless of the codes the wookie delegation had supplied them as cover.

Although their crash on Kashykk was only a few months prior, it had felt so much longer, every day sat waiting, planning, passing like a lifetime.

Now, piloting the tiny shuttle they’d been given, they felt vulnerable as the codes were keyed in upon an automated request from Coruscant control, clearance given almost instantly. It felt… too easy.

The ever present hive of activity swam into view, the traffic lanes of Coruscant flowing as always, painting lines of light across the sky.

It was like nothing had changed at all, and something struck Cin in the chest, her stomach tightening.

“How is everyone still just… going on?” she breathed, Sev shifting next to her, silently wondering the same.

For both of them, the galaxy had fallen apart, their entire lives upended, and yet… life went on. Worlds kept spinning, trade continued, and it felt so unfair.

“Guess for most people, Empire or Republic, nothing really changed,” he huffed, scanning the skyline. It felt so familiar, bar one thing. He spotted it before Cin, gritting his teeth when he saw her eyes lock onto the area the Jedi Temple had once stood.

He heard her gasp as they passed in clear view of the now ruined buildings, the giant halls nothing more than a pile of rubble now, surrounded by skycranes, being cleared away.

“It’s really gone,” she murmured, breath hitching as she tried to process what she was seeing, “the halls, the chambers, the archives…”

Her blood ran cold as she turned back to Sev, eyes wide and tear rimmed.

“Sev… The archives held holocrons,” she explained quickly, voice quiet, almost as if she was scared someone would hear, “containing the names and home planets of every Jedi, and not just the ones who were at the temple… They have the names of every Force sensitive child in the known galaxy, the ones who were to become Jedi recruits…”

Cold realisation hit them both as Sev growled, shaking his head.

“What we’re doing is dangerous enough, mesh’la. We need to focus on the plan. If it goes well, if we can get in and out undetected, there might be a chance, but…”

He hated himself as she turned away with a frown. She knew he was right, but it didn’t sting any less. Logic seemed to go out the window these days though, and Cin cursed her lack of control. 

She felt herself slipping, giving into emotion more and more since the Order went out, and it was troubling her on a level she couldn’t explain to Sev.

“I know, I know,” she muttered, a bitter tone in her voice she didn’t quite catch in time before it slipped out. Heaving a sigh, Sev placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Can’t save the galaxy all at once, ner kar’ta,” he reminded her, something she’d said to him once, on a particularly difficult mission gone wrong. Smiling softly, she felt a little lighter, grateful for his presence at her side as she lifted her own hand to cover his, leaning into his hold.

“I don’t tell you how much I love you enough,” she murmured, chuckling as Sev’s face went bright red, his expression still stern as he fought a smile, shaking his head and turning back to put his bucket on.

“Ner cyare,” he all but whispered back, her smile widening before it faded as their docking port came into view, the large wings of the ship automatically folding up against the sides as they were brought down by the auto-landing system. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she sighed, releasing the controls and grabbing her lightsaber, clipping it onto the rear clips of her belt, out of sight.

She knew it was dangerous to be carrying it, that it would identify her in an instant, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it, of being without it, the last piece of a life she’s lost she had left.

Swallowing hard, she grabbed the huge grey cloak Tarful had gifted her before they left, the delicate silver embroidery creating sweeping images of the trees of Kashyyyk.

“Plan?” Sev prompted as the airlock hissed, pressure from the systems releasing while the door lowered, the stale, recycled air of Coruscant hitting her like a speeder bike.

“Level 1345,” she recited, drawing her hood up over her head as she steeled herself to take her first steps onto an Imperial Coruscant, “find the ventilation ducts to the academy, climb them and infiltrate the facility.”

“Then?”

“Find a console, use the generic trooper codes to find the others, download the location onto a data spike and leave the same way we came in.”

Sev nodded in approval, letting out a soft huff of laughter, one that drew him a scathing look from Cin.

“What?” she demanded, a little hurt by his reaction.

“Boss is gonna be proud as kriff of you. You know that?” he murmured, grinning under his helmet as Cin flushed brightly, shaking her head.

“You can tell him all about it when we get him back,” she grumbled, pulling her cloak tightly around her as she began to descend the ramp into the docking bay, keeping her senses open with the Force.

But even with her senses attuned, the anxiety pulsing through her blinded her to the set of dark eyes watching as they exited the ship, ones that followed their progress long after they entered the elevator to the lower levels.

*-*-*

“Hurry up, will you?”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Well go faster!”

“Not the first time you’ve asked that of me.”

“Sev, I swear to the Maker…”

In another life, they might have been laughing as Sev struggled with the latches on the ventilation shaft, the metal tight and rusted from years of neglect.

They were pressed into a dingy alley in the lower levels of Coruscant, the skitter of rats and tookas and the hum of electricity filled the humid air, the bustle of homes and business of various levels of disrepute operating mere yards away covering what little noise they were making.

Still, Cin continued to glance up and down the alleyway as she leant against the wall behind her, trying not to draw attention as she kept watch, hissing back to Sev.

“I thought you were supposed to be a Commando. How hard is a vent cover?”

“Not exactly covered in basic training,” Sev grunted in response, the irritation in his modulated voice clear.

With a screech, the cover finally moved, Cin wincing at the sound, looking up and down the alley, making sure they hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention.

“Got it!” Sev chuckled triumphantly, lifting the huge cover behind some of the bins a little further down, keeping it out of sight.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Cin retorted sharply, rolling her eyes, “and half of the level, most likely. We need to move.”

“You worry too much,” Sev smirked, trying to placate her, the anxiety in her voice impossible to miss.

“And you don’t worry enough,” she chastised him, “you know what we’re risking here.”

“I do,” he replied, serious now as he stared down at her, instinct making him reach up and remove his bucket as she shuffled around, looking up into the pipe.

“Gonna be a tight fit,” she murmured, Sev snorting softly, expression apologetic when she turned round, glaring at him. 

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” he offered, reaching out a hand and wrapping it around her waist, pulling her close, “and trying to remind myself that being terrified isn’t going to help us.”

Cin sighed, dropping her head to his chest for a moment, hesitation taking over.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she whispered against his neck, “maybe there’s another way…”

“There probably is,” Sev soothed her, gloved fingers cording through her hair, “but it would take a lot longer. Who knows if they’re even together any more? The faster we move, the faster we’re all back together.”

Something in his tone caught Cin by surprise, the flecks of emotion showing through as he spoke. Through all of this, she’d failed to consider just how hard Sev was finding this, being separated from his batchmates.

They’d been together since birth, raised together on Kamino. They’d shared meals, bunks, missions, even her. They did everything together. To be alone after all those years…

Reaching up, she cupped his cheek, tilting his head down enough to brush her lips over his gently, the promise of her return unspoken.

“It’ll be just like Corellia,” she smiled softly, his lips lilting with the memory, “in and out, no-one will even notice.”

“Maybe we can celebrate the way we did then too,” Sev chuckled, glad for the tiny sliver of normality that passed between them, his heart still hammering away in his chest.

“Deal,” she grinned, leaning up to kiss him once more before she turned back to the vent, drawing in a steadying breath. “Okay, Commando. Give me a boost,” she ordered playfully, Sev letting out a low chuckle.

“Sir, yes Sir,” he smirked, bending down on one knee and placing his hands over it. Within seconds, she’d climbed onto him and was helped up into the vents, the sounds of her movement fading quickly.

“Be safe, mesh’la,” Sev murmured after her, reaching for his helmet and replacing it quickly, beginning his watch.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #republic commando fanfiction #republic commando #clone commando sev #clone commando sev x OC #the clone wars #Commander Fox #daniwrites #dani writes #star wars republic commando

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve’s parents leaving him home alone more and more after the Fall of 1983. Half the time they don’t even tell him in advance, he just finds out from a note left on the kitchen counter and $10 to cover pizza.

Steve waking from a nightmare, friendless, alone (let’s pretend he and Nancy didn’t get back together), and hungry. The fridge is empty and Bradley’s Big Buy is closed for the night. He tries to go back to sleep but his stomach won’t relent so he reluctantly gets dressed and drives 15 minutes to the 24 hour McDonalds in the next town over.

The same McDonalds where Eddie works the drive thru headset at on the weekends. He’s not exactly fond of the job and finds dozens of ways to make it more entertaining — like coming up with terrible nicknames for the company.

Steve is taken aback the first time the static drive thru speaker welcomes him to “McCrap-lds.”

It makes him smile for the first time in weeks.

Neither Steve nor Eddie recognize each others voices as they banter back and forth. Steve ask for recommendations, Eddie makes fun of him but gives in.

When Steve pulls up to the window he expects to meet the funny drive thru employee but he’s greeted with a tired middle-aged women instead. Apparently Eddie lost window privileges after an incident. Steve doesn’t ask questions.

When he wakes up from another nightmare a week later, he returns to the McDonalds and engages Eddie in more easy banter before ordering his food.

It becomes a habit — one he keeps up for the entirety of the summer of 1984.

Steve and Eddie never meet face to face but that doesn’t stop them from venting, joking, and sharing their McDonalds recommendations through a shitty drive thru speaker.

Then on the first day of senior year, Steve is in line for the terrible cafeteria food (it makes McDonalds look like a Michelin Star meal) desperately craving chicken McNuggets and sweet and sour sauce when he hears a familiar voice. He turns quickly, eager to finally learn who the mystery guy responsible for making him laugh at 3am in a McDonalds parking lot is only to find Eddie “the Freak” Munson waltzing across lunch table going on and on about how conformity is killing kids.

Steve’s in shock. How could the sincere and hilarious guy he’s been shooting the shit with all summer be The Freak?! But then Eddie’s foot catches on a lunch tray and he topples ass first to the floor. When he pops up he takes a dramatic bow and makes a joke — one that sends Steve into uncontrollable laughter.

Yep, Eddie “the Freak” Munson is McDonalds guy.

And Steve knows exactly what he has to do.

He figures out where Eddie’s locker is and then excuses himself two minutes before the dismissal bell so he can get himself into position. When Eddie saunters over to his locker at the end of the day, Steve is waiting for him.

“Think it’s time I cash in on that free sundae you promised me a few weeks ago.”

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded for a moment, mind reeling as he process what Steve is getting at.

“You, Steve “the hair” Harrington are the McDonalds guy? My McDonalds guy?”

“Well I’m certainly the McDonalds guy,” Steve says taking a step closer. “Buy me that free sundae first and then we can discuss me being your McDonalds guy.”

#this is so dumb but the idea won’t leave me head #should I make this a proper fic? I may have started but I need to know if it’s worth it #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington/eddie munson #Steve harrington fluff #eddie munson fluff #alternate first meeting #meet cute #Dani writes #stranger things #stranger things fic

[bakuliwrites]

Ebb and Flow- Prince Sidon x Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda

Relationship: Prince Sidon x Reader

Summary: “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?”Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep?

Tags: Female Reader, Smut, Angst, PIV, Semi-Public S*x, Outdoor S*x, Oral S*x, Shark Anatomy, Established Relationship, Star-crossed Lovers, Romance

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

DISCLAIMER: TOTK SPOILERS, 18+

Sidon wonders if he had spoken too softly. He expected some sort of reaction from you, even if it wasn’t a dramatic, soul-wrenching one. But your silence comes as a shock to him. Your unreadable gaze penetrates him from where you’re seated by the window in your quarters. Quarters he had specifically modified to house a Hylian such as yourself. Just for you. Fashioned to house you for what he thought would be forever. From the luxurious water bed on one side, where the two of you have shared so many passionate nights, to the cozy, crackling fireplace on the other- it’s all been for you, and him, and what he thought would be your future together.

“Y-you what?” you finally manage, confirming to Sidon that it wasn’t that you didn’t hear him, but that you couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn't wanted to tell you until he returned from his diplomatic mission, but he couldn't keep it a secret from you. Sidon's words stick to his throat. They feel barbed, razor-like, cutting his tongue on their way out.

“My father has decided- He’s arranged my marriage,” Sidon repeats, words seeping from his mouth like blood. But he tastes nothing when his tongue grazes over his lower lip, checking for a fresh wound. Still, he tastes metal, haunting and sharp. You’re bathed in moonlight, a silver gloss draping elegantly over your skin. Tonight, you appear to Sidon like an ethereal ghost, distant and untouchable, a curiously beautiful and captivating goddess. Like the moon delivered you to him and has come back this night to steal you away. 

“Not only has my father found who he considers to be a ‘suitable match’ for me, but he’s arranged the date of our meeting,” Sidon goes on, wanting to fill this deeply uncomfortable silence with something, anything, “Of our marriage.”

He trails off, glancing down at his feet and willing himself not to shed the tears that are stinging his eyes. He’s always known there was a risk that his marriage would be arranged. You aren’t Zora, you’re not royalty. It was a small chance that King Dorephan would even consider you in the running to marry Sidon. Your duty to Hyrule and Sidon’s duty to his people were always meant to clash. But he never thought it would be something to worry about this soon. His father’s decision to step down from the throne came as a shock, and the decision regarding Sidon’s marriage that much more shocking.

Your silence is killing him, gnawing at his insides, anxiety running rampant in his mind. Say something, anything. Please, he silently begs.

“When?” is all you’re able to question through your stupor. The look he gives you is grave, crestfallen.

“In less than a fortnight,” he almost whispers. He watches as your eyes fall slowly shut, as you clench your fists, your jaw. Every part of you tenses, but not out of anger. You take a deep breath and Sidon can tell you’re trying to hold in your tears. But when you exhale, they start to roll down your cheeks, dripping freely to the floor beneath. Droplets of pure moonlight shimmering as they fall. He rushes to you, scoops you into his arms, your small, Hylian form fitting so perfectly in his embrace. 

“I fought for us,” Sidon continues, as if he needs to prove to you that his love is genuine. As if you didn’t already know. Your shuddering sobs into his shoulder seem to shake the very foundation beneath you.  

“I fought so hard for us,” he whimpers, holding you closer, tighter, as if he were to let go, the moon would finally take you back to your celestial throne, “But my father wouldn’t agree. He wouldn’t- No matter how much I protested. How much I argued and debated-” 

“It’s okay,” you manage through tears, littering Sidon’s face with kisses, “I know you fought. I know you tried as hard as you could.”  

Sorrow blooms in every facet of your irises as you stare into Sidon’s gilded ones. If his heart hadn’t shattered in its entirety before, it certainly does now. He opens his mouth to say more, but he realizes he’s not even sure what he wants to say. He can’t reassure you. He can’t even reassure himself. 

A knock at your door pulls him begrudgingly from this private moment. An attendant calls out to him, "Your Highness, we should leave before it gets much later."

“They can wait,” Sidon speaks, turning back towards you, not wanting to leave you after such devastating news. You smile softly, shaking your head.

“No they can’t, my darling,” you gently return. He knows it, you know it. His royal duties, his people must always come first. You’ve never quibbled with him about this, something he deeply admires about you. 

Sidon presses a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. He can taste the salt of your tears, the salt of his own. He hadn’t even realized he’d shed any until the soft pads of your thumbs wipe them from his cheeks. He gazes at you underneath his furrowed brow, memorizing the features of your lovely face. If you dissolve into moonlight while he’s gone, he would never forgive himself for not kissing you one last time. 

“Wait for me,” he breathes when he pulls back, “We'll figure this- something out.” You nod, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. Desperately, Sidon wishes he didn’t have to leave. Not in the middle of such an important conversation. 

“I should be no more than a few days,” he promises, giving you one final kiss before he wrenches himself from you and reluctantly slips out of your room. He doesn’t dare look back, knowing your melancholy gaze will destroy him if he does.

***

Sidon's diplomatic meeting with the Rito was a success, though it was mostly just a formality. The Zora and Rito are already on quite friendly terms, so he wasn't too concerned in the first place. The entire trip, however, his mind was preoccupied with you, with marriage, with grief. He's mulled over every possible solution. He contemplates further arguments with his father, knowing full-well that he won’t win them. But for you, it’s most certainly worth a try. He thinks about running away with you, eloping under the light of the moon, starting a new life on some remote island, far away from everything. But he knows he couldn’t leave his people behind, and he is certain that you won’t let him. Sidon could refuse to marry anyone at all, but that would mean he couldn’t be with you. But wouldn’t it be better to live his life alone if he can’t live it with you?

These thoughts swirl endlessly around his mind, a vortex of confusion and possibility. Nothing seems right. He loves you. No one else. He can’t imagine loving someone else. Or growing to love someone else. Up until now, Sidon has imagined spending the rest of his life with you. Of proposing marriage to you, in the customary Hylian fashion. Starting a family together, running the Zora kingdom together. Growing old with one another. Nights spent gazing up at the stars, held close in one another’s arms. Mornings waking up in your warm embrace. 

With his father’s decision, all hope Sidon had of making a life with you has been dashed. On his journey home, he tries to come up with some sort of solution, but as the Zora kingdom draws nearer and nearer, the Prince frustratingly comes up with nothing useful.

***

An attendant greets Sidon on the bridge leading into the palace, handing off a small slip of paper before dashing off again. The Prince unfolds the note, recognizing your handwriting immediately. “Meet me in our usual spot,” it reads, followed by a small heart and the first letter of your name. Sidon politely excuses himself from his fellow travelers and bolts off to meet you, hoping that you haven’t been waiting long for him.

By the time Sidon reaches Toto Lake, the moon is hovering high in the night sky, casting swathes of silver light across all of Hyrule. Its reflection wavers on the surface of the lake as Sidon’s keen eyes search for you. He spots you in the lake’s center, gliding through the water, every stroke disrupting the liquid mirror around you. The lake appears to envelope your form, encompassing you almost lovingly. Toto holds so many memories for Sidon. It’s where he sought solace after his sister’s passing. Where he found peace during the devastating years that Calamity Ganon reigned. The temperate waters have provided shelter in his most distressing times. It’s also where Sidon first pledged himself to you, promising his heart to you. And where you promised yours to him. A sacred, secret promise.

Sidon watches you for a moment. You cling to the crumbling ruins in the lake’s center, gazing up at the distant, twinkling stars above, not seeming to have noticed him yet. Crickets chirp in harmony with the nearby ribbits of hot-footed frogs, hiding stealthily amongst the scattered lily pads near the shore. Sidon wonders if this is the last time he’s ever going to see you, a thought that pierces his heart like a vicious barb. He can’t help but notice the pile of bags and personal items that you’ve left in the nearby clearing, like you’re prepared to travel a great distance.

Sidon is pulled from this painful thought when you wave to him, having finally noticed him lingering there. He waves back, somewhat apprehensive, but collects himself before diving into the lake. Sidon swiftly cuts through the water, desperate to reach you, the red of his fin cresting the surface of the lake. He wonders if he’ll reach you in time before the moon summons you home again. 

“My darling,” you exhale as he reaches you, pulling you into his embrace and holding you close. You cling to Sidon, the gentle thrum of your heart against his chest reinvigorating him after his long journey home. Why do you puzzle-piece so perfectly into his form? It seems like a cruel, cosmic joke that you would fit so neatly, so completely in Sidon’s arms. 

“You’re leaving?” he questions, pulling back to meet your sorrowful gaze. Gently, his large hand cups your cheek, one thumb smoothing over your soft skin. You lean your head to the side, letting your eyelids flutter shut as you press a tender kiss into the palm of his hand. 

“I must,” you state just barely above a whisper, a quiver in your voice that threatens to shatter Sidon’s already fragile calm, “I heard word around the palace that your bride-to-be arrives tomorrow.”

This is news to Sidon, news that washes waves of vertigo and anxiety over him. They threaten to drown him, pummel him into the silt and sand until he is nothing more than a smoothed over shell, tossed about in the surf. Sidon steadies himself, taking a deep breath, using your pleasant scent, your warmth as an anchor to this moment. Your cheeks are flushed and when you open your eyes once again, Sidon can tell that you’ve been crying, though you shed no tears in front of him. He wants to beg you to stay, to beseech the moon above and bargain that you might grace him just a little longer with your presence. What would it take for the heavenly bodies to allow you just a few hours longer with him?

“I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another?” 

“Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” he finishes. You contemplate this for a moment, before leaning your forehead against his. Beneath the cool sheen of water on your skin, Sidon feels the heat of your blood flowing strong through your veins. Your strength, your poise in this painful time serves as an example to him. He is always put together, always princely and regal. You let him fall apart, without judgement. Sidon can feel his composure fracture at your next words.  

“I think we come from the same ancient waters,” you begin, your hands coming to rest on either side of his face, “In some primordial sea, we rode the same tides. Perhaps someday, we shall again. But maybe this time around, we are only meant to flow together briefly, before we part.” 

“This cannot be,” Sidon whispers, voice wavering and tears beginning to roll down his cheekbones,“I feel your spirit ebb and flow inside of me. You inhabit me in a way that no one else ever has.” 

“I am with you, always. My soul is woven into every fiber of your being. And yours, mine,” you return, and with your exhale, warm tears flow from your bright eyes, “Sidon, I love you, body and soul.” 

He can take no more. Sidon crashes his lips into yours, feverish and desperate. You drape your arms over his shoulders, press yourself tightly to him. Perhaps the gracious moon will allow the two of you to merge, to live out the remainders of your lives as one being, one body, one soul. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, resting on his narrow hips while he grips your supple thighs. You’re bare to him already, your naked form bathed in silver moonlight. You are glorious, mesmerizing. A bright star, fallen to earth so that Sidon might marvel at your beauty, your mystery before you ascend to your place carved out in the heavens once again.

Sidon can feel his arousal growing as you palm his bulge, claspers pressing against his sheathe. Your warm tongue languidly explores his mouth, breath fanning softly against him. His hands smooth over your slick curves, worshipping every part of you. He commits the plushness of your body to memory, stores your soft moans and tiny gasps so that he might recall them later, in his loneliest hours. The way you breathe his name is holy and nearly brings him to his knees. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he whimpers pathetically as you trail kiss after searing kiss along his jawline and down his neck. Your teeth leave their bittersweet marks in his flesh, his talons dragging down your back, agonizing and delightful all at once. 

"I will bear your marks for all of time,” he announces, voice husky and low, “And know that I am yours, and you are mine."

“I am yours always. Sidon,” you coo, hand massaging torturously slow over his painful bulge, “In this lifetime, and the next. In all that we should ever exist in together. And even those that we do not.”

Sidon’s fingers tangle in the wet strands of your hair, tugging as he tilts your head so he can have better access to the tender spot of flesh behind your ear. He luxuriates in the lyrical moans that flutter from your lips as he nibbles and sucks at your sensitive skin. His warm tongue drags along your neck, goosebumps appearing in his wake. Your excitement fuels him, thrills him like nothing else does. His fingers find his way to your slick folds, running its length, dousing himself with you. 

He can’t contain himself any longer, his claspers freeing themselves from their sheathe. You're quick to grasp one, pumping slow and rhythmic. 

“Sidon, please, allow me,” you entreat, your doe-eyed glance up at him only spurring on his arousal. He releases his grip on you, gently setting you back in the water and letting you push him onto a nearby ledge of the ruins. If his people saw him now- oh, the very thought. How un-princely of him- an idea that inexplicably excites him. Prince Sidon- always so put together. Always so collected and proper. Prince Sidon- with the lips of a Hylian warrior, a celestial goddess, around one cock and her hand wrapped around the other. 

Your tongue swirls around his swollen tip, making him throw his head back in overwhelming pleasure as you doubly stimulate him. Your hand strokes him at one speed, while your mouth works at another, before you fall into a rhythm with both. Every once in a while, you pause to lick a stripe up either shaft, before diving back in once again. Desperate to have you near, Sidon weaves the fingers of your free hand with his own and grips tight. You squeeze back, letting him know you’re still present, though you seem happily preoccupied with both of his cocks. 

“Oh, you work miracles, my love,” he groans, chest heavy with pleasure. He stays your hand, lets you work with just your mouth on one of his claspers. It would bring him no greater pleasure than to come inside you, he explains. 

“Your wish is my command, my prince,” you impishly return, mischief glinting in your eyes. You only ever call him, “Prince,” in court, when you have to be more formal. Or in private, when you want to tease him. An electric pulse runs through the length of Sidon’s body at your devilish gaze. You grasp his thighs, nails digging into his flesh. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through him. As your head bobs up and down, Sidon tries his best not to buck his hips into you, but it’s so very difficult. The coil in his core tightens, threatening to snap at any moment. And when it finally does, you help him ride out the electrifying pulses of his first orgasm that night.

***

A burst of salt hits the back of your throat. Bright brine graces your tongue. Your chest feels warm as you swallow, like your body is trying to imbue itself with Sidon. Like you're trying to weave him into every fiber of your being. His ragged breath is music to your ears as you slide your mouth off him. With a wet pop you release him, a string of spit connecting him to you. A connection tenderly wiped away by one of Sidon’s massive thumbs. When you glance up at him, his eyes are dark with lust, slitted pupils wide in pools of molten gold. Sidon’s cheeks are rosy and his body temperature warm, so very warm compared to his usual chill. 

You hardly have a moment to catch your breath before Sidon draws you up to him, smashing his lips against yours. Your nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, his streamlined body pressed so deliciously against yours. Your heat is throbbing, every ounce of you heavy with arousal. Carefully, Sidon flips you over, laying you ever so gently on the slab of rock beneath. Your head is cradled by some of the snaking ivy growing on these ancient ruins. Sidon gazes down at you, eyes glimmering in the night. His look is one of curiosity, awe. Though he’s seen you bare to him so many times before, he looks at you like it’s the first time. 

“I am at your mercy,” he hushes, sweeping strands of your hair out of your face, before leaning down to tenderly press his lips to yours. He lays kiss-upon-kiss over your cheeks, down your neck, along your collarbone. Featherlight, he trails his lips down your chest, suckling gently on each of the pert buds of your nipples. His sharp teeth graze them softly before he makes his way down your abdomen. His hands knead your hips, cup and massage your breasts as his mouth reaches your heat. He wouldn’t dare tease you, but he can’t help nibbling at your thighs a bit, leaving little love-bites in his wake. After a moment of reveling in your plush inner-thighs, Sidon turns his attention to your pussy. His tongue is languid, warm, as he drags it along your folds. The moan that escapes your lips is salacious. You hear Sidon growl with excitement. He flicks his gilded gaze up at you before he softly kisses the sensitive nub of your clit. 

Sidon dives into you, lapping up your arousal like it’s his lifeblood. Like he simply cannot survive without the taste of you. He savors you, tongue slowly circling your clit, testing your entrance. You squirm under the firm grasp he has on your hips, bucking into him, causing him to chuckle at your eagerness. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders, burying his head deeper into you. Sidon drinks you in like he’s parched. With each of your tiny mewls, you feel Sidon’s happy hums reverberating through your body. 

“Sidon, please,” you whine, smoothing one hand over the sleek fin atop his head, “I need to feel you in me.” 

He withdraws, the cool night air hitting your overheated folds surprising you. You gasp at its harshness, but Sidon is quick to replace the loss of heat with his hand, palming your sensitive pussy. When his lips meet yours, he tastes of you. 

“My darling, I’m yours. Entirely, completely. Every part of me. All parts of my soul,” he promises, his voice filled with conviction, with an aching passion. 

“I am yours, Sidon,” you return, breathless and longing, “Forever and always.”��

Tenderly, he spreads your legs, letting you wrap them around his waist, placing a large hand on the small of your back to help angle you. The stars overhead seem so close, so clear, like you’re encompassed in an endless dome of them. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Sidon asks, his cheeks flushed, breaths laborious. You nod enthusiastically, more than ready for him. He’s so slick, he slips into you with more ease than you expect. But he’s so big, you can feel him stretching out your entrance. He goes slow, gentle, allowing you ample time to adjust. Every few moments he asks if you’re alright. You stabilize yourself, arms slung around his chest, hands resting on his sinewy back. He’s cool to the touch, a sheen of water over his skin. 

With one of Sidon’s cock’s inside you, the other rests against your stomach. It’s hard again already, having recovered fast from your earlier ministrations. You grasp it gently, pumping rhythmically with Sidon’s rocking motions. A sultry moan falls from his lips at this double stimulation.

Sidon grinds slow and shallow for a while, before pressing deeper into you. You let go of the clasper resting against your stomach, allowing it to rest against you. With every pump into you, Sidon’s cock presses against the soft pad of your cervix. The pleasure is intense, your body quivering with each voltaic charge Sidon pulses into you. The heat generated between you is overwhelming, your bodies trying so desperately to merge into one. Your fingernails dig into his back, his talons into your thighs. Sidon buries his head into the crook of your neck, suckling little bruises, marking you. He delights in the way your breasts bounce with every motion. 

Goddess, please, let the moonlight fuse us into one, he begs, but he knows this cannot be. The two of you try your very best to do it yourselves. 

As Sidon grinds into you, the grip you have on his back prompts him to pick up his pace. 

“My darling, my pearl,” he manages to whisper, his breathing heavy, “You are, and always shall be, the light of my life.” 

“You are my moon, my stars, my light in the darkness,” you return, voice constrained by the taut coil in your core. Your walls quake around Sidon’s quivering cock. 

“Ha,” he huffs, pounding harder into you, “So close, my darling.” 

And so are you, but you can’t speak. For a moment later, the straining coil in you springs loose. Sidon’s name echoes through the clearing, a prayer in this ancient water temple. You cream around Sidon’s cock as he falls apart, his pace erratic as his hot cum fills your cunt. You feel even more paint your stomach, threads coating your abdomen from his other cock. Sidon calls out your name, a hymn to match yours. Sidon wonders if the moon hears the adoration, the infinite love in his voice. You know it does. 

When you’ve milked him for everything he’s worth, when he’s spent himself entirely inside you and on you, you pull Sidon down, crashing your lips into his. Feverishly, the two of you press kiss after kiss to one another, heated and yearning. You let the silence wash over you, grateful for the cool night breeze on your overheated bodies. After a while, Sidon gently pulls out of you, cock slick with your combined efforts. He pulls you into his embrace, cradling you in his arms. You belong here, enveloped by him. Enveloping him. How could the Goddess be so cruel to make you fit so perfectly, only to take you away from him?

“Leave in the morning,” Sidon begs, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lip, “Please, stay one more night. Besides, it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, a rueful smile on your lips and sorrow in your eyes, “If I don’t leave now, it’ll be that much harder for me to leave tomorrow. And don’t worry, Zelda has sent forth people to retrieve me. They’ll be here within the hour. I’ll be okay.” 

Sidon’s heart can’t drop anymore, but if it could, it certainly would. He’s not sure what he expected to feel after everything that’s happened. The depth of his melancholy is too great for him to understand at the moment. It will take time for him to process. He doesn’t feel numb. No, instead he savors your embrace. He holds you close, littering your face with kisses, gently stroking your back while you rub small circles into his. If he could live in this moment forever, he would.

A horn blows in the distance, drawing the two of you out of your tender sanctuary in time. In the distance, you see lights on the bridge of the palace. It’s a Hylian caravan of guards, no doubt from the palace. No doubt sent here for you. You cling to Sidon’s back as he swims the two of you to shore. 

“I wish you could whisk me away on your back. I wish we could just keep swimming and not look back,” you murmur to him, laying a gentle kiss on his fin. 

“I do, too,” is all he can manage, trying so very hard not to shed any more tears. You dress quickly and Sidon helps you gather all your things. These are your last moments together. The bitter sweetness sticks in Sidon’s chest, viscous like tree sap, clinging to his ribs. Hand-in-hand you walk back down the cliff side and make your way to the bridge. Just out of sight of the Hylian caravan, you pull Sidon aside and lay your lips against his one more time. Your kiss is passionate and conveys every immense bit of your love for him. He hopes you can feel the same from him. 

When you pull back, your eyes are filled with adoration. And his with sorrow and love. You smile softly.

"The sea will carry us to one another,” you begin, tears trickling down your cheeks, “Time and again. I will find you in the next life, where our tides will be one and the same."

Sidon leans his forehead against yours, allowing his tears to fall freely.

“My heart belongs to you, always,” he breathes, “You reside in me, sheltered and safe.”

“You will always find a home in my heart,” you return, pressing one final kiss to his lips. Your hand lingers in his for a moment, before it slips from his grasp. Prince Sidon of the Zora watches your form grow smaller and smaller on the horizon, before it disappears behind the cliff sides, and he is left alone once again. 

A/N: Okay, don’t get me wrong, I actually think Lady Yona is adorable and I have all sorts of plans for some OC/Sidon/Link/Yona headcanons and drawings. But I couldn’t resist writing some Sidon/Reader angst!!!!!! Oh gosh, if I ever decide to do a follow up, there's just too many good options. a) Sidon refuses the arranged marriage and declares that he's marrying you, against his father's wishes b) Sidon decides to runaway with you and you live out the rest of your lives on a secluded island c) Sidon goes through with the marriage and you go your separate ways or, perhaps my favorite option, d) you, and Sidon, and Link, AND Yona become a happy little polycule because that would be adorable and wonderful (and I've said it before, but I'll say it again, if you know me, you know I love anything poly!!!!!!) Thank you so much for reading! This was a delight to write, though it definitely filled me with a lot of sadness. As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Hope you are all doing amazing! Lots of love 💜

#the legend of zelda #prince sidon #totk spoilers #sidon x reader #prince sidon x reader #loz: botw #Loz: totk #spicy #lemon #angst and smut #dani writes #my writing #loz fanfiction

[biscuityskies]

the light, the heat

He feels utterly safe here, warmth encapsulating him in a gentle embrace, like arms wrapped around his midsection. He’s shielded from whatever perils this world might throw at him, protected and… Oh. That’s an actual arm thrown across his midsection. So it wasn’t all a dream. A slow grin crosses Cody’s face. “I can feel you looking at me, y’know.” “Banthashit,” comes the quiet reply borne on the voice he knows so well, deepened with sleep, “I’m still asleep.”

this was originally posted for a gift exchange in the codywan server, and i offer it now to the broader public lol pls enjoy (tagging @codyday2224 bc i love what ur doing <33)

#codywan #dani writes #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #cody day 2224 #love that guy. absolute icon #man. codywan are so in love you guys

[deludedfantasy]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Trigun (Anime & Manga 1995-2008) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood Characters: Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Milly Thompson, Meryl Stryfe, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Original Characters Additional Tags: Post-Canon, post trimax, Resurrection, Nicholas D. Wolfwood Lives, Amnesia, Amnesiac Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Post-Canon Fix-It Summary:

Haven isn’t a place where you’d expect miracles to happen, so when Vash arrives with Meryl and Milly, he’s expecting a quiet few days to relax while the girls research their next story. He’s not prepared to find Nicholas D. Wolfwood, the man he mourned and buried two years ago, moving and breathing and very much alive. And also missing all of his memories.

To Nico, Haven is home. He might not remember his past or the kind of person he was before he stumbled into Haven’s welcoming arms, but he’s happy. Sometimes, he’s not sure he wants to know any of that seeing as his first memory is digging himself out of the grave. But when Vash the Stampede comes to town, he raises all kinds of questions about who Nico really is and he’s determined to get answers. Even if the idiot keeps trying to dodge him.

A story about finding home, rediscovering love, and finally using your blank ticket to the future.

Very excited to post my first Trigun fic!! Come read about the men being stupid and in love. 

#trigun #vashwood #trigun fic #vashwood fic #dani writes

[stripeydani]

Woohoo I got it up before Smackdown!

Part 2 of 'Cody gets beat up and Randy is a surprisingly good caregiver', last week was Randy's blood kink, this week is Cody's pain kink because we all know he has one.

There's smut, but it's handwavey again. There's a lot more navel-gazing than I was intending xD

#dani writes #cody rhodes #randy orton #candy