#fic rec Friday or whatever day it is

[jazzerdoc]

FIC REC “FRIDAY” - combo edition. I’ve been tagged (twice now) by @xthelastknownsurvivorx & once by @cha-melodius for this share. Thank you. I’m behind. My apologies. It’s finals week. It’s not Friday. I’m sorry. I’m traveling and I don’t know what day it is. Also that made me miss the Wordle & stop my winning streak at 128 and I’m kind of upset rn.

Tagging @welcometololaland for the master list.

So now it’s TWO THEMES - the fic that makes you laugh or smile whenever you think of it & the fic that lives in your mind rent free.

THEME ONE: funny/smile:

RWRB. This fic is outrageous in all the best ways: a college au, it’s hilarious, hot, memorable, 0-60. Henry is goaded into being filmed while trying to squash a watermelon between his THIGHS and Alex is out of his mind before/during/after. It’s FULL-CONTACT, written by one of my loves, @clottedcreamfudge All I can say, readers, is you’re welcome. 🍉

I would add here that @stutteringpeach ‘s WELL, WE’RE NOT HERE TO FUCK DUCKS aka fuck study (already tagged by @xthelastknownsurvivorx ) is also on my giggle-fest list. 🦆

THEME TWO: fics that live in my mind rent-free.

BUCKLE UP. This is really hard, because several do live in my mind ALL THE TIME. I’m going to add some favorites by my favorites, but I first have to say that @rmd-writes’ TO THE VICTOR THE SPOILS & its prequel, WHAT, LIKE IT’S HARD? are definitely on this list but @cha-melodius already tagged it. They are genius and I do love me a good lawyer au. Below are all RWRB but one, but it’s RWRB-infused, so.

@clottedcreamfudge I could say A SPORTING CHANCE, which you know I adore, but I’m going to say NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH, because I’m obsessed with how the love story plays out in this reality dating show romp & the title is a line from my favorite Shakespeare play, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 🌴

YOUNG ROYALS (w/RWRB crossover) fic by my sweet love @the-amber-fox This prince/rock star/Sweden/US epic au is lovely and fun and just a great way to showcase Wilmon’s love story. PERFECT CRIMES OF THE HEART. 👑

My IG bestie @cinnamoncoffees has written YR & RWRB fics (some FOR me & others I’ve helped with), but this one is sooo good. I think it’s her best. It’s a vampire au and I don’t particularly like vampires necessarily but it is soooo good. Did I mention how good it is? 😋 A SLIGHTLY HYSTERICAL VAMPIRE FANTASY MOMENT. 🧛🏼‍♂️

RWRB fic: you may know my lovey @cheesecurdsgravyandfries as the writer of extremely hot, explicit RWRB & SCHITTS CREEK fics, but did you also know she is hilarious and sweet? I don’t completely know why, but I’ll never forget this adorable and clever stripper au told from Henry’s dog’s perspective. THE GOODEST BOY, HIS HENRY, AND THE OTHER GUY. 🥹 (Fun fact: this is the only G rated fic in my list.) 😏

RWRB+: I’ve got lots more RWRB favorites, but this list of fics-that-live-rent-free-in-my-mind would be incomplete without @everwitch-magiks’ HASHTAG SOULMATES. This beauty is a fan fic must-read. It combines the best of rwrb’s contemporary lgbtq fiction and all the romance tropes. Genius. 🪐

Tagging @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @the-amber-fox @cinnamoncoffees @clottedcreamfudge @everwitch-magiks @stutteringpeach @rmd-writes ONLY IF YOU WANT TO. And anyone else. This was fun but it took a while. Also, please tag @welcometololaland, who’s evidently keeping a list.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | Francisco Morales x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | working your summer job you find yourself fawning over a boy you barely know, realizing by the end of the summer that letting go of him may not be the best idea.

content warning | young!frankie morales, reader is working in bar (if there’s some things wrong, just know i tried fjsjsj), background tf boys, phone texts, inebriated hook ups (frankie is a lil drunk but he’s okay i swear) smut out the wazoo, oral (m/f receiving, protecting p in v, hints of voyeurism, idk let me live in this dream pls

word count — 7.5k

The bar was supposed to be easy cash, a second job you picked up during the summer, between the interim of your final year of college and the beginning of your life—just some extra money to keep you afloat amongst the drowning seas of tuition debt. But, the job came with unexpected challenges—rude customers, drunk customers, (given that you worked in a bar you really couldn’t fault them) but it was the rowdy ones that really got under your skin. And you quickly learned the unspoken schedule of customers as they made their weekly round for a few drinks, some over-fried bar food, and a game of darts or pool.

Monday through Wednesday were some of your more favorite days, friendlier people who liked to visit earlier in the day before the bar got packed after sunset, some relaxed chit chat and a beer or two. They tipped very nicely, too.

Thursday was the slowest of the week, co-workers sliding in to catch a game of pool or watch some sports game on the old, ratty television tucked in the corner area of the bar, even with you squinting your eyes it was still barely visible and they almost always left the biggest messes at their table—but again, you couldn’t complain when it was only a few tables you had to scrub down.

Friday was always busy, the weekends just as bad—from open to close you were shuffling around behind the bar, in tune with your co-workers as you moved around each other. You knew some people by name and some would politely remind you—you saw about a hundred different faces every week, some were bound to slip through the cracks.

But, within your first week there, you found a particular group of boys would show up every Friday without fail—a few rounds of beers, a mountain of wings and fries and whatever else they could get their hands on, and a game or two of darts and a pool table they had just to themselves.

The charmer, Santiago, was the first to introduce himself.

A crisp hundred dollar bill slipped over in advance with a softer tone, “I’m apologizing in advance, they tend to get a little, uh, loud.” It wasn't the right word, but you smiled nonetheless, still checking the money behind the counter in case he tried to slide you a fake and mask it with a simple courtesy that wasn't shown often. Kindness. 

You start their tab, grab their orders, and within twenty minutes their voices are already booming over the rest and arguing about a stupid game of darts, three other boys crowded around Santiago as their faces are within an inch of the board, fingers pointing all over.

There is a straggler, though—a man who’s similar in age to most of the boys, late twenties maybe? He had to be close to your age or just a little older but the sodden expression on his face made him feel much older, sipping at the round of beers you had brought by as soon as Santiago headed back for the table.

They call him Catfish, whatever that means—and it seems like they all have nicknames for each other and you wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem worth it. Your Rolodex of names in your head was already bursting at its seams and Santiago was the only one you could bother to remember, especially when he’s sliding over a chunk of cash in advance rather than blowing up his tab and then scrambling to pay.

For a few weeks it’s just that. They come in, Santiago pays, and then they spend a few hours in the back of the bar arguing like boys, rather than men. But, they always leave you a hefty tip when they don’t fill out their tab or when they go over and pay it out and then some. 

And naturally, you’re curious. About them. About him.

So, when Catfish comes in on a Saturday night completely alone, that curiosity does get the better of you.

He doesn’t make much of a scene, sliding into the bar stool instead of taking up a table, and seeing how busy it is, he waits—quietly and with a faint smile on his face that you catch a few times in passing, refilling cups with ice and offering a polite smile back.

When you finally get to him you're slightly breathless, wiping your hands on the towel tucked into your back pocket, “Hey, sorry about—what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” He says with a shrug, promptly sliding over a twenty as you pour and hand off the glass.

“Where’s the others?” You ask curiously, an attempt at casual conversation despite selfishly wanting to know.

“A party,” Fish explains, “Benny won his tournament so they’re celebrating that.”

The name sounds familiar but you can’t quite place it.

“The younger one,” He adds with a subtle smirk, seeing the furrow in your brow of you thinking too hard.

“So Benny, Santiago—but you get stuck with Catfish?”

It can’t be his actual name, but they never use anything else.

“Francisco,” He takes a generous sip of his beer before setting it down, tapping his fingers idly against the surface of the bar, “—but, just Frankie. If that’s easier.”

You tilt your head with a genuine smile, putting a name to a face and it feels fitting, the hat suffocating his mop of hair, curls peeking around the edge of his hat and the dark colored tees he always wore, some sort of dismay always written on his face. You can’t explain it, but it works for him.

Frankie. Francisco. Catfish.

“Well, Frankie—if you need anything just yell. That’s probably the only way I’ll hear you,” You tell him with a laugh before attempting to depart—the bar isn’t too bad at the moment, all customers dealt with but the roar of the bar is loud.

“Well—wait,” Frankie half shouts, grabbing your attention, “what’s your name? I gave you mine, seems fair to ask.”

You tell him with a shrug, “But, I only ever hear honey or sweetheart all night, so really, I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Frankie chuckles at that, looking away briefly as if to busy his mind with something else and you slip away then.

You don’t ask why he came alone—why he would skip out on a party with the men he came here every Friday night with—maybe he needed a break. Alone time. It wasn’t your business.

But, one Saturday becomes another. And two months later he’s come by every Saturday. Alone. And giving you his undivided attention. It’s sweet, you’ll admit that. 

He isn’t as closed off on Friday’s when he arrives with the other boys but isn’t as outwardly friendly as say, Santiago would be during that time. But, Saturdays—he’s a whole different person. Lighter. Happier.

He only ever orders one beer, makes small talk, and lately—he’s been walking you to your car. So, not only is he nursing that beer over the four hours left in your shift by the time he gets there, he’s waiting for you. To clock out, that is.

Really, it’s against your better judgment. Allowing a total stranger to know what you drive, where you park, what time your shift ends, but Frankie is a… friend.

He isn’t like most of the customers, terrible at small talk and flirting and only making half-assed, nasty comments toward you when they get a few rounds in. 

He’s seen it a few times. He never berates the guys, but he does pull your attention away, occupies your mind, and always manages to slip in a few words that make your legs go weak and encourage the dull throb between your thighs—even if it’s just a smile and an apology on their behalf. 

Frankie always shows interests, ask about you and your life in the politest way he can without seeming like a complete creep—you can tell he doesn’t flirt often, by the way he’s quiet around his friends when you stop by their table or how he never asks for your number despite twirling his phone in his hands idly most of the night, trying to seem occupied but mostly staring at a blank screen until he finally gains the courage to ask you another question.

The first night he walks you to your car it’s quick—he stays until you close up for the night and walks around back, a careful and watchful eye on your surroundings as he nods and wishes you goodnight with a half-hearted smile, kicking himself in the ass for not just asking for your number.

And it continues like that for weeks, within those couple months, and gradually Frankie bursts out of his shell little by little until you both are giggling one night over a particularly rowdy customer, having gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure and broken a table. 

His hand grazes your lower back as you walk out, a genuine mistake but you turn your head toward him quickly, soothing his worries with a smile as you stick the key into the lock.

“Don’t worry about it,” You tell him with a comforting tone, “I’m used to men being a little more handsy than that, so, if anything, you’re a gentleman.”

“Those aren’t men.” Frankie argues lightheartedly.

“Eh, men who act like boys,” You say, “they’re assholes either way you put it.”

Frankie nods, readjusting his cap on his head as he pushes his fingers through his hair.

You twist the keys in your hand and start the walk toward your car.

“Do you ever take that thing off?”

Frankie’s eyes dart up toward the hat and he chuckles, hidden under the scruff and grown out facial hair, “No. No, not really.”

“Would you do it if I asked you to?”

He contemplates but never gives you a straight answer, forcing you to prod him gently with the end of your key, “Don’t worry—I won’t. Not yet.”

Frankie’s fingers curl around the edge of your door as he holds it open and watches you climb in, mind swimming with a million ways to ask what he wants, but it never comes.

But, you see it on his face immediately, the caution behind his eyes in being so forward with you.

“Ask for it,” You tell him, turning on the ignition to your car, still looking at him as he looms between you and the car door, “—unless you want to make me ask.”

Frankie looks away briefly and you laugh softly at his sudden unabashed expression as he smiles and turns back to you, “Can I have your number?”

You hold your hand out in wait, thumbing in your number the moment the phone finds your palm. You send yourself a short text with a smiley face to make sure it goes through and hand it back over, feeling a sudden flutter of anxiety in your chest.

Not good, not bad—but it is something.

“Put it to good use,” You warn him, “don’t make me regret that.”

Frankie smiles wider that time, his teeth peeking out behind full lips.

“Right,” He agrees, “absolutely. I promise.”

He adds a soft goodnight and you depart, feeling your phone buzz again before you even pull out of the parking lot.

[Unknown Number]: Goodnight

You snort a quiet laugh to yourself.

An hour later, a toothbrush tucked into your cheek as you stare down at your phone when it vibrates. You had half the mind to save his number despite your exhaustion from the shift you worked.

[Frankie]: Home safe?

[You]: Yep. :) Thank you for checking on me

[Frankie]: :) Goodnight. 

[Frankie]: Again lol.

It’s stupid—it shouldn’t make you smile. But, it does.

You quickly find every day occupied by Frankie in some form, through text or just the thought of him. He’s everywhere and you can’t seem to care—and you give up sleep in the middle of the night for text conversations that come from just wanting to hear from him, as nervous as you are to just call—you could, you knew he wouldn’t care. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You try to learn as much as you can about him.

[You]: Why Catfish?

It’s a random Tuesday when the text comes through his phone. He’s busy in class, cramming himself in as many hours as possible before he tests for his pilot license.

[Frankie]: Long story. Obnoxiously long. Why?

[You]: Just curious. It’s a strange nickname

[Frankie]: So what does that make me?

Frankie doesn’t get a response for a while and he knows you’re probably working, but he finds his fingers reaching for his pocket any time his phone vibrates in the hopes that it’s you.

[You]: Sorry. There was a mess at work. 

[You]: It makes you strange btw

[You]: I’m kidding. But, it’s still a weird nickname.

Frankie can tell it’s you from the constant buzzing and he takes a peek at his phone.

[Frankie]: Oh shit. How bad of a mess?

[Frankie]: I know. Maybe I can explain it another time.

You’re busy wiping the beer off your face as you look at his text, the security dragging out the guy who had splashed the glass of liquid back at your face.

[You]: Some asshole threw a beer at me. Nothing new. Clothes are soaked.

[You]: Don’t try to make a joke about that or I’m double charging you this Friday.

Frankie frowns at the implication that you think he’s first instinct is to make a joke at your expense, but you can’t help to protect yourself from the behavior you’re used to from most men.

[Frankie]: Do you need me to bring you something? I can stop by on my way home?

[You]: I’ll survive. Thank you, though. My shift is almost over.

A couple days later you end up going down a fireshot line of questioning to get to know him, much to his surprise.

[You]: Okay. Birthday?

[Frankie]: April 2nd. 

He returns the question to which you answer but add on another text with a joke at his expense.

[You]: Damn, a day short and that would be perfect for you. So, you’re an Aries.

[Frankie]: Yeah, whatever that means.

You laugh to yourself, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you walk through your local grocery store to pick up items for dinner that night.

[You]: It fits you. Oh! What do you do for work?

[You]: Fair game since you know what I do.

[Frankie]: We’re all in the army. I work on aircraft.

Oh, that’s…not what you were expecting.

[Frankie]: It’s new. I’m trying to get my pilot's license right now. I’ve got a big test coming up for it.

[You]: That’s so cool! Take me for a ride sometime?

You smirk to yourself as you press send.

[Frankie]: Yes.

You look ridiculous smiling at your phone in the middle of the aisle but you can’t help it.

In the army. A pilot. And a gentleman? Or, at least he’s provided himself to be nice enough. You were both young, so it didn’t surprise you that you were both unluckily single. But, Frankie seemed like such a catch—and it terrified you how badly you wanted him. Even in the simplest form. 

A friend, a best friend, even. Or more, definitely more. But, you didn’t mind either way.

He’s due to take the test for his pilot license the Monday after your last shift, showing up with the boys on that Friday before—typical routine and behavior, but he does seem a bit more handsy. Santiago has always been friendly, but he does hug you this time he sees you, catching you on the way back to the bar and he plants a kiss on your cheek that you welcome with a soft, playful shove of your hand at his face and if it strikes Frankie with jealousy, you don’t notice.

But, he does shock you when he wraps an arm around your front and hugs you lazily, haphazardly slumping his other arm over your shoulder as he plants a kiss in your the hair at the crown on your head and rubs your hip with his thumb, leaving you dumbstruck and wanton the rest of your shift, frazzled every time you glance his way.

Santiago orders a round of shots toward the end of the night and thanks you with a wink, departing for the table and interrupting the idle conversation the men were entranced in.

You’re not sure what was going on, wiping down the counter as the night slowed down and casually flicking your eyes up to check on them, hearing them laugh occasionally, glancing your way briefly and suddenly Frankie was headed your way, fiddling around with the brim of his hat as he pressed a forearm against the countertop you had just wiped down. 

You snap him gently with the towel and give him a look, he backs away slightly, hovering over the edge of the counter.

“What’s up?”

“They’re a bunch of dicks, I’m sorry.” Frankie deflected, glancing back at the boys who were staring on with sated smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of him fumbling and dropping the ball as he spoke to you. His eyes flick up wearily, soft and so distinct to him that it makes your heart ache. “Pope—Santiago, he dared me to come over and kiss you. And it’s stupid but if I didn’t at least try I would never hear the end–”

You pull him in by the collar of his shirt, the brim of his hat being pushed askew by the force as you press your lips to his in a simple, but unmistakable kiss. Tilting your head slightly as you pull away briefly to kiss him once more, dropping your towel to push your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and it seems like his brain catches up too late, his fingers barely grazing your neck as you pull away.

You pointedly look around Frankie to flip the other three off with both hands.

“Get out of here,” You warn playfully, “before I murder one of them.”

Frankie huffs a soft laugh through his nose before he turns away, speechless.

They were out of there within a few minutes, but an hour later your lips were still tingling.

Frankie is different that Saturday—more energetic, seeming lighter and more playful. 

He drinks one beer, then two, surprisingly a couple shots of tequila—and before you know it, you’re seeing a much different side of Frankie than you're used to and it is quite the sight.

“Am I cutting you off?” You ask curiously, “I don’t want you nursing a hangover tomorrow when you have your test on Monday.”

“One more,” Frankie promises, “but—surprise me?”

You shrug, not finding a problem with it.

“Sweet or savory?” You ask him.

You feel your breath catch slightly as he pauses, his eyes doing a subtle drag over your body as you take a couple steps back, reaching for an empty glass.

“Sweet.” 

It has an underlying tension to it neither of you address. 

You make something up on the fly—fruity and sweet with the slightest bit of tang, nothing that screams Frankie but when you set it down in front of him and he drinks, his eyes widen slightly.

And for half a second you think he might spit it out, but then he’s chugging the rest down—and maybe it’s alcohol dulling his taste buds but he makes a quick show of assuring you he liked it, even if it’s mostly for your own benefit.

Shaking his head as he licks at his lips with his tongue in a way that feels so unnecessary that you can’t help but giggle, snatching the empty glass away from him as he smiles, his eyes half-lidded from the faint buzz he has going on, but otherwise he still seems fine.

You couldn’t let him get that drunk, not when he had so much riding on that test.

By the end of the night, your side hurts from laughing so much, forceably having to shove your hand in Frankie’s face to get him to shut up for half a second, his fingers circling around your wrist as he pulls you forward and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Stay. Let me close up and we can walk through the back.” You tell him and he nods quietly, though his grin never fades, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip idly while he watches you work around the clutter and reorganize, cleaning everything down before you’re flicking off the lights and nodding at him to follow.

If it were anyone else, you’d have given them a stiff kick to the balls and sent them on their way, but the moment Frankie noses at your neck your hard resolve melts and you shrug him away at how much it tickles your skin, feeling his hand wrap around the bicep on your left arm. He’s never been so touchy but you can’t say you don’t enjoy it. In fact, you’re eating it up at this point.

“Frankie,” You warn him playfully, working and failing to lock the door as uses his other hand to squeeze at your side, “come on—I can’t lock up with you doing that.”

“Try,” He teases, challenges, and you can’t help but like the bolder, less restrained side of himself he’s offering up to you.

The gentle nuzzling quickly turns to kisses, wet and open mouthed as he practically drapes himself over you, one hand pressed into the brick wall beside the backdoor and you sigh softly, leaning into his chest as you finally get the door locked and shrug him away.

“Am I going to see you next week?” He asks hopefully, knowing that with August looming in the distance that your job at the bar was close to being nullified. 

You shake your head with a bittersweet smile, “Tomorrow is my last day, actually. For now, anyway.”

Frankie’s brow furrows at that and he shakes his head slightly before he’s invading your space, hands cupping your face as he lifts your chin up to meet your lips and kisses you gently, your fingers coming up to curls around his forearms and you feel his lips part just as you pull away.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask him, feeling like an echo as he comes back to the surface with a delayed response, trying to kiss you again but you're pressing your fingertips over his lips until he realizes that you actually want an answer.

“I’ve wanted you all summer,” He admits and it makes your blood run hot, that distinct tingle of pleasure shooting down your spine and it is nothing you were expecting him to say, but tonight was full of surprises apparently, “do I need to prove it to you?”

He presses his forehead against your own and you shake your head in response. You believed him, you didn’t doubt him for a second—but it feels surreal. Those quick, fleeting summer flings you only hear about in passing, never expecting to experience it yourself.

You may never see him again, you had to strike the match while it was still in reach.

“Are there cameras back here?” Frankie asks hastily.

You snort, “No—we’re five minutes away from college dorms in the poorest part of town. People come here for cheap booze, not security.”

Frankie nods at that, “You’re right,” He responds but the end is muffled as he kisses you again, with less care and a lot more tongue as you open your mouth to him and find the words on your tongue are muffled by his.

And thank god the street lights were shit in the back alley, barely working amongst the occasional flicker, you eventually find your way in the darkened corner of the back alley with Frankie’s hand working at the button on your jeans, almost tripping over an overturned crate on the way there that causes you both to burst into a fit of giggles, laughing through the sloppy kisses Frankie can’t help but smother you with, sighing when his fingers dip past the denim and thin fabric underwear to cup your pussy with his entire hand, the warmth of his palm like an answered prayer.

His hat is frustrating though, constantly bumping and prodding at your head before you finally get fed up, plucking it off his head and tossing it to the ground with an annoyed sigh that forces a choked laugh from Frankie’s throat, dipping a finger down the center of your core before pressing inside of you, gasping at the sudden but welcomed intrusion. You release a shaky sigh and open your eyes to look at him, finding he’s plenty amused but still buzzed in his own way.

Half beer, half pleasure—but he looks like he wants to devour you.

Lucky for you, he was starving.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, breathing picking up as he angles his fingers and slips another inside, curling them toward you from within and you pull at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He smirks in amusement, “Wish you could see how needy you look,” Frankie comments, “all it took was a couple fingers, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Too bad it took you all summer,” You pester him as he picks up the intensity, using his other hand to push your jeans lower down your hips, “and some stupid fuckin’ drink to make you finally want to have sex with.”

“Sex?” Frankie jokes through a throaty chuckle, “Who said anything about—”

Your hand cups the front of his jeans firmly, a little harsher than necessary but you can tell he doesn’t mind, almost challenging you to tease him a little more but the moment you both hit a solid wall you’re tripping over each other’s feet and it pulls you back to the surface and despite your clothes being half-stripped away and Frankie’s hand still shoved down the front of your jeans, it brings back a surprising amount levity to assess the situation at hand.

“I mean, do you want to?” You ask him curiously, tucking a curl behind his ear as he blinks, considering how this would affect his relationship with you, as brief and fleeting as it was.

“You’re really asking me that?” He responds, “Of course.”

“Well, I mean you did just say—”

Frankie places his palm over your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He deflects, hoping you’ll play along.

You work at his belt without hesitation, far over the small talk and tired of wasting time. Frankie pulls his hand away much to your disappoint, pouting slightly as he drag his hand up your stomach, under your shirt until he’s got it tucked under your chin and mouthing of your bra greedily, the fingers of his other hand peeking around the fabric to pull it down, taking the soft, pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking with a satisfied groan as you dip your hand beyond his waistband and over his boxers, pulled tight against his thighs and groin. You could picture the sight of him in your mind for hours if you wanted, but you had him here, right here. 

Why not give yourself a peek at the real thing?

Frankie is lost, deep within the exploration of your body that he doesn’t even hear your voice when you plead with him, his voice grazing over the delicate skin of your breasts as he pulls away, already ready to descend and yank your jeans the rest of the way down, press his face between your legs and feast on you like it was the best thing he’s tried all night.

But, there’s the pout again—so subtle he would miss it had he not finally given you his full, undivided attention and he was right. You are needy.

His thumb rubs at the small sliver of your lip that’s poking out, rocking his hips gently into the hand still tucked away into his jeans—there was such a distinct charm to him, melting under his gaze the second his eyes made contact with your own. Every time.

“I don’t wanna keep you,” You whine emphatically and Frankie almost immediately begins to shake his head—

No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t be keeping him at all. Not a chance, not a fuckin—his inner monologue is going wild but he finds you perking up at the slowly growing panic on his face.

“But,” You breath, the thumb that was resting at your bottom lip trailing down the valley of your breasts before he cups one gently in his hand, “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give you at least something to remember this.”

“Couldn’t forget about you if I tried, actually,” He begins, but you shake your head, shushing him and pushing his hand away before you sink to your knees despite the immediate protest in your knees at the hard gravel—but god was it fucking worth it when you look up, half-lidded eyes staring back as you shake his jeans down his hips, just far enough that you can watch as he does the work with his boxers, cock bobbing free as he settles the band underneath his balls and if has to look away by that point, overwhelmed in the way your eyes roam but you don’t speak, clearly admiring and seering this to memory as you smile cheekily, taking his cock in your hand and jerk him slowly, thumb running along the vein that follows to the head of his cock.

“Get off the floor,” He begs pathetically, “gonna tear your knees up doing that.”

You laugh quietly to yourself and slide your tongue along the head of his cock, dipping down the slit of his head and to his shaft, pulling back at the skin and taking him into your mouth fully. He’s uncircumcised, thick and perfect—he fills your mouth out so beautifully in all his girth that you wonder just how much better it can feel between your legs, filling you out in the best way.

“Oh, jesus—baby, that’s,” You hum, bobbing your head in constant rhythm as your work your free hand around his balls, cupping them and allowing your other hand to cover the rest of what your mouth couldn’t take of his length and Frankie looks like he might actually pass out, looking around desperately for something, anything to lean on before he just settles for the wall behind you, resting both of his palms against the brick as he towers over you.

Frankie sighs shakily, dropping a hand to tuck against the back of your head, and your stomach swirls with anticipation as he allows himself to break his restrain a little, guiding his cock into your mouth with little aide given how eager you were as you took him as far as you could go, brush your nose against the trimmed patch of hair at the base and feel his hand flex in your hair, gripping it tight and attempting to pull you off to no avail, repeating the process until he’s begging for you to slow down, give him just a few seconds to breathe, ultimately finding that you don’t stop until he finally finds his voice again, stuttering out a desperate, “Stop, stop, stop–”

You pull away suddenly, worrying crossing your face but quickly dissipating as Frankie laughs, pulling you to your feet without much fight on your part and he does notice the few scraps on your knees, collecting with blood and he really wishes you would have listened but you brush him off, his body pressing you up against the brick wall behind you, pants still hanging at his thighs and his dick pressed against your stomach, shirt still sloppily bunched up over your tits.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, so vulgar it makes you pulse around absolutely nothing, his eyes roving over your face curiously, his thumb tracing over your lips, with a soft mumble, “God, I need you so bad.”

“My car,” You respond, tongue pressing against the pad of his fingertip as you nod behind him, “Condoms, they’re—in the car.”

Frankie makes a face, sort of amused but a little confused.

“Shut up,” You null his question before it slips out—”It’s precaution, okay? Guys love to pull the whole—”

“No, I—I get it,” Frankie answers, a small laugh rounding out his tone, “I just figured, you know—we’d…go back to your place? Or mine?”

Your hand fists into his shirt slowly, pulling him impossibly closer like he wasn’t already pressed against every surface of your body.

“What if I can’t wait?” Your eyes soften, looking up at him and catching the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, wanting to taste that tinge of sugar that lingers with him, “Would you fuck me right now?”

Frankie nods eagerly and you don’t hesitate, grabbing for his hat, placing it against his chest and gripping his hand in your own before you shove him away gently and lead him to your car, mostly covered in darkness aside from the obnoxiously orange streetlight that glowed overhead. Your clothes haphazardly pulled back up as you clamber into the driver's seat to reach over the console and into the glovebox, aware of the hand that slides between your leg as you search in the poor lighting, squealing when he squeezes at the flesh under his grip and shoving the foil wrapper into Frankie’s chest when you finally get your hand on the box.

“Off,” He tells you, pulling at the zipper of your jeans, “all the way.”

There was so much going on in your mind, nothing you could pluck out and focus on but it buzzed with excitement, anticipation, the kind of adrenaline that only comes in situations when your judgment is hasty and not fully-thought out. You’re barely kicking your shoes off and pulling your jeans past your ankle before Frankie is manhandling you into the backseat, and pressing his face between your thighs as he licks into you, a surprised gasp tearing from your throat as you grip the seats wherever you can.

Your pussy throbs under the care of his tongue, and he carries on obnoxiously, making a mess between your legs as his fingertips grip at the flesh of your ass and force you to open yourself wider to him, “Frankie—” You interject weakly, but he silences you with his mouth, sucking at your clit like it was his new obsession and you whine so pathetically that you find you covering your mouth in shame, biting gently at your bicep to muffle the flurry of sounds that came out after.

He pulls away some time later—minutes, hours, days, you can’t even place it. But, you hear him shift, the rip of the wrapper and the jingling of his belt as he shifts his jeans further down and slides into the backseat more comfortably, hovering over you. His hands squeezing at your hips, a comforting gesture as he speaks from behind you.

“Are you sure?” 

It’s sweet, you can admit that. But, you don’t need that.

“Frankie.”

He wasn’t budging. Because, if by some sudden change of heart you didn’t want this, he wanted to know.

“Yes. Yes,” You say, turning slightly to look over your shoulder, his face only an inch or so away as you tuck your arm back and push your fingers into his hair, pulling his face next to yours as he pushes inside of you slowly, yanking gently at the strands between your fingers as he settles, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Let me hear you,” He begs, “It’s just us.”

He hears you all the time, voice carrying across the bar but never like this—for him, only for him.

He pulls back gently, snapping his hips firmly and you hum softly, slightly giddy over the entire situation. He continues that way, so gentle and cautious that it makes you wonder why you both avoided this for so long, “More?” Frankie asks. You nod and his pace quickens slightly, a little harsher, and your hand grips onto the passenger seat beside your head for leverage as he chest rumbles with a deep sigh, “Fuck this is—baby, you have no idea.”

“Tell me,” You plead, the quiet creak of the car drowned out by your loud, pathetic moans as Frankie’s fingers curl around your throat and hold, no pressing or squeezing, just another place for them to find a home.

“Thought about this—so many times,” He admits, “came here for months—fuck, months. And then you show up and I was nervous—couldn’t, couldn’t even think of what to say to you. I knew I’d embarrass myself in front of them.” He squeezes then, a gentle pressure on your throat that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“I had to see you alone,” His throat is tight, his breath a little quicker as he speaks, his hips snapping into you at a steady pace that clouds your mind effortlessly, “wanted you for myself—and, I would’ve fucked you that first night if you’d let me.”

You cunt squeezes him tight at his words and he curses, “So greedy, baby. She’s drooling all over me—such a fucking mess,” And you need to see him, face the man who’s finally found just the right amount of confidence to make you speechless. You lean up suddenly and force a hand into his chest and he only looks slightly confused before you’re pulling him inside and forcing him to sit into the cramped back seat, uncaring of the open car door as the car rocks with the weight of your bodies and you seat yourself on his lap, gripping his dick in your hand and sinking back down onto him without a word, curling yourself over him as you push away the hair clinging to his forehead, damp from sweat and his eyes are blown wide, staring up at you like he was under hypnosis, gaze locked on your own.

“Tell me now,” You challenge him—nowhere to hide behind his words.

“Would you—have let me fuck you that one night I walked you to your car?” He asks.

You smile guiltily, remembering the heat of his hand on your back, never really an accident.

“I’d have let you fuck me over the pool table if you asked, Frankie.” You admit, “In front of your friends too, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Frankie laughs weakly, giving you the lead as you lift your hips with a sudden eagerness.

“Is that what you want?” You tease him, “You guys are all about claim, right? Army boys love to show off—I mean, they’d probably be into it. Santi, for sure—”

Frankie covers your mouth with his hand and you giggle, biting playfully at the flesh of his palm.

He squeezes at your hip with his free hand, forcing you into a hurried pace as he begins to move his hips to meet your own, lifting off the seat slightly with every snap of his hips. Your cry is muffled by his hand but Frankie sees it in your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes that tells him.

“Touch yourself, babygirl,” He tells you, “Let’s see how bad you want it.”

You lean back between the open space of the driver and passenger seat, one hand gripping the upholstery of the seat while the other works between your legs, fingers drifting over your clit and into the mess of yourself that was leaking over Frankie’s cock from where it was buried inside of you and he wasn’t lying—you’ve never been so turned on in your life. Half-assed hook-ups and guys that didn’t give a shit about your own pleasure, Frankie was a goddamn dream and a hell of a good fuck. 

You know your body well enough that it doesn’t take long, but the show is for Frankie’s benefit alone, head thrown back over your shoulders as your middle and ring finger circle your clit, occasionally wrapping your hand around what of his shaft was available as you tried weakly to move your hips, squeezing to pull a soft little gasp from his chest. It was such a damn shame you didn’t have him fully naked, splayed out on the mattress in your shitty apartment. You wanted to dig your nails into his skin, leave half crescent marks and a reminder of you for days, weeks even. 

“Fuck, I’m right there, baby—” He warns, unexpectedly joining your own fingers and forcing you over the edge just before he pulls you in, a brutal snap of his hips before he’s muffling the deep groans of his orgasm into your skin, teeth sinking gently into your shoulder.

The next few minutes is spent in a blissful silence, moving off of him carefully as he discards the condom but never letting you drift to far, still curled up and half naked on his lap as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss that takes your breath away, literally pulls from your chest and makes your heart stop.

Oh…this was not good. 

You breathe shakily and pull away with a smile that masks that sudden ache in your chest and kiss again at the inside of his palm. He leans his head against the backseat, eyes closed as he catches his breath and groans slightly when you move off of him, oblivious and exhausted as you redress hastily beside him, pulling your jeans back up your legs and over your hips, slipping your shoes on and readjusting your shirt, shaking him gently when you fear he might have passed out right there in the back of your car.

“Frankie,” You call out, saying his name a few more times before you call out, one last time, “Francisco, hey.”

His eyebrows raise in question, a subtle smile on his lips as he peeks an eye open to look at you.

“I really need to get home,” You tell him, laughing half-heartedly at his drunken stupor, “you’ve gotta go.”

Frankie seems to realize then that he can’t drag this out any longer, redressing himself slowly as he climbs out of the car, watching you fiddle with your shirt and your appearance, trying to not look like you just got fucked in the backseat of your car.

He seems to notice the slight dismay on your face, knowing that your lives were diverting down different paths, but this was still the present. Now. And he was still here.

He presses you into the driver’s side door and kisses you then, hands crawling up the side of your neck and caressing the curve of it, dipping his tongue past your lips and really stealing your breath away, moaning into your mouth like you were the greatest thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull away regrettably when you feel him start to ramp up again, “Good luck on your test, by the way.” You tell him honestly, “You can text me the good news when you pass.”

Frankie chuckles, “I will.” There’s a long pause and then he’s speaking again, the few words you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, “Can I see you again?”

The hesitance is obvious on your face and it kicks Frankie down a peg, but he gets it. He wasn’t a boyfriend, barely even a friend. But, he was still hopeful.

“Maybe.” You offer, “I mean—you still have my number. I’m just a text or call away, you know.”

Frankie couldn’t admit that you were the only thing getting him through this summer without relapsing or making another misstep, that wasn’t your burden. But, the weight on his heart is heavy and his own to bear, welcoming the hug you offer him immediately and squeezing you so tight you might break, but of course, you don’t. 

And he thinks that if he showed up broken, in pieces, that you would know exactly how to piece him back together, but he hoped that never happened. That maybe you might manage to escape him and he wouldn’t drag you down with him.

“Goodbye, Frankie.” 

He smiles and nods, settling his hat back on his head as he steps away.

You leave soon after, not sure why this sudden dark cloud is looming over you.

Frankie never texts you about his test and the texts you send in the aftermath are never responded to—and eventually you give up, feeling like an idiot for being hopeful in the first place.

↝ beta: @chaotic-mystery

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 12

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Physician, Love Thyself by Ryuuto

Will tries not to let on just how high his standards are for himself or how they're slowly crushing him under their weight. It's hard for him to open up about it when he's afraid that at any moment, it'll all come crashing down on him. Yet, perhaps it's time for this son of Apollo to bleed a small portion of that pain off.

will's whole thing of never believing himself ENOUGH.....like he works and works and never stops pushing the target farther away huh. i don't think he ever lets himself rest in the satisfaction of grasping something. it aches. and the ambiguousness of this ending....weeping fr

2. Sick Day by Ryuuto

Will is not a fan of the winter. Sadly, this year, the winter isn't a fan of Will Solace, either, and is especially spiteful by making Christmas Eve the worst day of this season. Stupid winter, ruining his plans for a romantic Christmas Eve stroll through New York City with Nico di Angelo.

crying and the quiet intimacy. the satisfying ordeal of being known....of being LOVED......of them loving each other with all the magnetic poles of each other. god. i will never not be insane for established relationship fics and will having seasonal depression is so desperately important to me like

3. once more unto the breach by orphan_account

He is Atlas, and he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he is also Will Solace, a fourteen-year-old boy with blood on his hands and ghosts in his hollowed-out heart.

weeping and crying because i am never not thinking of this. the weight of the healer. no rest for the wicked. and this line in particular actually knocked me fckn flat:

"

At fifteen years old, Will Solace falls apart with as much grace as he does everything else, and he very nearly gets away with doing it alone.

Until Nico, that is.

"

UNTIL NICO THAT IS!!!!! EXCUSE ME!!!!

4. Of Rotten Liars and the Taste of Truth by @theroyalsavage

Three times Will Solace lies to Nico di Angelo the summer after the war with Gaea, plus one time he tells the truth.

me and 5 (3, whatever) plus ones. you know the drill. "will is a dork and nico's an idiot" correct. will “if i lie i throw up” solace so real. and awkward but determined nico my beloved

5. Between the Shadow and the Soul by @theroyalsavage

Of snow, fumbling kisses, Valentine's mornings, and the imperfect science of falling in love.

SO soft they are SO SO SO soft i am going to LOSE MY MIND....the teasing the comfort the LOVE!!! THE LOVE!!!!

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[911buddieweek]

Buddie Week 2024

Buddie Week 2024 is a week-long event to celebrate our two favorite firefighters. WIth the use of forms, the fandom could choose several things like the prompts and when the week takes place. All forms are now closed and everything is official!

April 8th - April 14th is Buddie Week!

Each day has two normal prompts and a quote prompt. To join, you only have to choose one of these (of course you can do more!). If there isn't a prompt you like, you can choose one of the alternate prompts to write for instead.

And here are the prompts (nominated and then voted by you). The order of prompts is from the most voted for to less voted for.

Monday April 8th: Borrowing/stealing/sharing Clothes - Secretly Married - "I'm right here, I always have been."

Tuesday April 9th: Protective Eddie - Co-Parenting - "I can tell you're not fine"

Wednesday April 10th: Clipboard Buck - Tattoos - "Is that my shirt?"

Thursday, April 11th:- Eddie calling Buck 'Evan' - falling asleep on each other - "Because I fucking love you!"

Friday April 12th:- didn't know they were dating - demisexual Eddie - "I swear it wasn't my fault this time."

Saturday April 13th: hugging from behind - Buck speaks Spanish - "I'm not letting you go."

Sunday April 14th: first kiss - hurt/comfort - "Please don't leave."

Alternate prompts:

stuck together

special rescue/heavy rescue Buck

amnesia

"I'm sorry, you want us to do what?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"This made me think of you."

More information about the collection on AO3 will be posted later! But for now, you can start making things for this event! You can write a fic, make art, create a playlist, or do anything that you want with these prompts. You don't even need to post it on ao3 if you want it to. You can post anywhere.

During the week and the period after, I will try to reblog everything on Tumblr that has this account tagged in the post, or 'Buddie Week 2024' in the tags. You don't HAVE to tag me. I understand if that makes you uncomfortable - I was the same with my first Whumptober year and didn't tag the official Whumptober account or tags.

Everyone can participate! Maybe you can post fic recs with these themes. Post little snippets or drabbles. Do whatever you want. Maybe you've got your own idea how to participate.

The ONLY rule is that the use of AI is not allowed. And, of course be nice to each other! If something isn't your thing, exit the page, don't be mean.

I'm excited to see what you all come up with! I will be writing fics as well for this event. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to send a message or an ask!

To stay updated, you can follow this blog (@911buddieweek )

(Sharing/boosting on tumblr and other sites is appreciated. I do not have (or want) a Twitter account so I don't know if they're even aware of this)

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 47

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Damnit, Pidge by spirkylurkey

Pidge has some top-secret-classified-don't-tell-Keith-info that she accidentally lets slip to, you guessed it, Keith. Lance is an embarrassed mess. Keith isn't faring much better, to be honest.

this one made me LAUGH the way that this all pidge's fault and she's literally like. well. you shouldn't be so gay then. and she's right!! they're so dumb i love them

2. Operation: Faking It by @writeonclara

“What the hell, guys?” Pidge squawked, wrestling away from Matt. “Why are you pretending to be a couple?” Or: Matt and Lance pretend to be a couple because Shiro and Keith are clueless as hell.

do you guys remember shatt?? i remember shatt. adashi will always have my heart but shatt will literally always be funny bc ofc thats ur fic name. anyways. this fic is mostly klance but the entire concept is just so ridiculously goofy that u have to laugh. do you like lance and matt? do you like fake relationship to real relationship? do you like inverted tropes? do you like pining? do you like comedic jealousy? then this fic is well and truly for you because it has all that and more

3. all's well that ends well to end up with you by @coruscatingcatastrophe

Keith's jacket gets ruined, so Lance decides to be a good Samaritan and give him his. This is the beginning of the end.

megan's fic literally make me want to eat cement i'm so serious. i've read and been obsessed with TONS of her stuff but this one???? this fucking one???? oh god the slowburn kills me. the blossoming realisation that oh god we've been dating this whole time huh. the CHIVALRY...............a romance novel in the truest of senses and i am going to fry

4. as long as it won't separate you from me (i'll be fine) by @coruscatingcatastrophe

A little intrigued—not that she’d ever admit it—Pidge begins to climb the stairs. But before she even reaches halfway, the door—slams shut. All on its own, or so it seems. Pidge pauses, brows creasing in confusion, as she turns to look down at her dog. “Did you see that?” she asks. Peculiarly, she notes that Bae Bae’s fur is bristled, and he growls at the door before barking twice. That’s weird. Bae Bae never growls. Turning back to the door, Pidge feels unsettled, but she tells herself not to jump to ridiculous conclusions. There’s a logical explanation for everything. Maybe there was a gust of wind from the air conditioner, or the doorframe isn’t level. Whatever it is, she’s going to figure it out. - Or, a Beetlejuice au (kind of). Pidge isn't a fan of her new house, Lance and Keith are the ghosts haunting her attic, and together they hatch a plot to convince Shiro and Adam to skedaddle out of the house. There may be demon summoning involved. But seriously, Adam. Getting your hair set on fire really isn't that bad.

HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEN!!! ive been thinking about this fic all october and finally let myself reread it. ive never loved beetlejuice more than when i read this. it's so fun!! so interesting!! pidge gets a chance to shine!! klance are so!!! the way it had the story of beetlejuice but adapted well!! im!!

5. never thought i'd see the day in my life by @coruscatingcatastrophe

But Keith has somehow gone even paler in the short amount of time he’s been at the table, and he shakes his head. “No, something is . . .” His gaze flickers back to Lance, and he’s startled to find that Keith’s eyes are purple. They’ve got to be contacts. Ridiculous. As if the mullet and gloves and personality weren’t enough. Keith pushes away from the table abruptly, looking incredibly put-off now. “I, uh—gotta go,” he mutters, before angrily gathering up the backpack he’d dropped into the chair next to him and storming out of the cafeteria. “Huh,” Hunk says. “Well, that introduction could have gone a bit better. Don’t take it personally though; sometimes Keith’s just like that.” - Or, a Twilight au starring Lance as Bella, Keith as Edward, and the rest of the Voltron gang as themselves. Lance is insufferable, Keith is awkwardly trying to figure out why Lance is the way he is, and along the way they fall in love, or something. It's probably, definitely the best love story since Twilight itself.

now ive never read twilight and i refuse to on principle. but i didn't find this one creepy and instead it was super fun and dweeby and lance is indeed a ray of sunshine, thank you megan for noticing, and it turns out when the story isn't a hetero mormon wet dream it's actually a good time!!

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Dean Winchester's 45th birthday week, and happy Friday! I was absolutely blown away by everyone's incredible posts for Dean this week, you guys. It made me all emotional.

Back with my fourth week of fics I've read and loved recently. If you missed last week’s you can find my previous rec lists here for more!

26 January 2024

american oracle by @handsliketruth and whiskeyjuniper (@satinsolace) I spent all last Sunday reading this one and it was such an immersive experience! An earthquake shakes something loose in the bunker, seemingly trapping Dean, Cas and Sam inside with it as they attempt to fix what's gone wrong, only the bunker isn't going to make it easy for them! Super creepy, twisty, reality bending and really beautifully, unsettlingly written. Whatever's happened is messing with their minds, and the creeping horror of real or not real persists, but even through that the Dean and Cas of it are really fascinating in how they navigate their intense feelings for each other. I was also incredibly impressed with how the effects of canon wrapping up were woven into the plot in such a powerfully potent way, exploring fate, free will, and the future. Really a stand out (and I know a lot of you have been reading it because I found this fic open in no less than three separate tabs in my bookmarks when I came to read it myself. So adding one more rec to the pile!)

Slouching Towards Bethlehem by @norahastuff (art by @logsdrawsthings) is a brilliant and seamlessly written missing conversations DCBB fic set in seasons 4 and 5. The dialogue is so on point for that era Dean and Cas, at times I had to remind myself what came from the show and what was brand new. As they navigate their way towards the apocalypse, and Cas watches over Dean in reality and in dreams, it seems hard to find solace. But in getting to know one another better, they both question their parts in the grand plan, and also find peace, connection, and company in their deepening bond.

A Fic About Dean’s 45th Birthday by @scoobydoodean both does exactly what it says on the tin AND made me cry lol. After Mrs Butters plants the seed in his head that he's too old to celebrate his birthday, Dean gets a little upset, but he doesn't let on to anyone. The poor man just wants to be appreciated and celebrated on his birthday! But he feels guilty about causing a fuss, and anyway, he can still show his love through making sure everyone else's days are marked for the occasion. But on his 45th, his family is acting a little suspicious, and they seem to want him to stay away. Angsty, sweet, give that man his krispy treats!!!! Check out Dean with Scoobies.

found it here in your love by nevernevergirl (@yorkesteins) is another Dean's birthday ficlet, but taking a 180 spin on it. Cas has plans. LOTS of plans. Dean deserves to be celebrated. But some pesky snow has derailed Cas' thoughtfulness, and despite his best intentions he's awfully upset about letting Dean down. "In which learning to live your life after nearly two decades of saving the actual world is a process. They're doing it together, though." Sweet, domestic, heartwarming love (even when there's a tantrum involved.)

Plus shout out to @angelsdean's I spy Dean's birthday game, @dean-isms's birthday party watchlist, and ALL of the incredible fic, art, AMVs and edits you made. TALENT.

[bylerficrecweek]

BYLER FIC REC WEEK 2023

Calling all Bylers! There are so many talented and amazing creators in our community, and it’s time to show them some love! There are quite a few fics and authors that are very beloved by this fandom, and while they absolutely deserve all the hype they get, there are so many other amazing fics and authors out there waiting to be discovered! We want to help you shine the spotlight on your underrated faves and share the love.

How it works:

Byler Fic Rec Week will last from Friday, 3rd of March to Thursday, 9th of March. Each day will be themed around a different genre of Byler fanfic for you to rec your personal favourites of. Don’t be shy, share as many fics as you want that fit the day’s theme— the more the better! We’ll be reblogging all the recs that get shared to this account as an archive of hidden gems, and using the tag #BylerFicRecWeek2023. The specific genres for each day can be found here.

All you need to do to rec a fic is to share its title, the name of the author, and a link to it (You can embed hyperlinks to the fic and the author’s AO3 profile by highlighting the text, choosing the infinity symbol, and pasting in the URL). If you want to you can also add the AO3 summary, your own description, how it makes you feel, or anything about the fic that you think will make people interested in reading it. If the author has a Tumblr and you know the @ you can also tag them, so they know you like their fic enough to recommend!

You can share your rec lists by:

Posting them to your own blog. Make sure to tag #Byler so more people have a chance to discover your recs! Also use the tag #BylerFicRecWeek2023 so we can definitely find your lists to reblog!

Submitting them to this blog. Don’t feel comfortable making posting a list to your own blog for whatever reason? No worries, we’ve got you covered. Submit a list to us and we can post it for you. Note that posts you submit will include your username.

Sending them in as asks. If you’d prefer to use asks over submissions or you want to remain completely anonymous, feel free to send your recs in to us as asks! You can’t embed hyperlinks into asks, so please include the full URLs of any fics you share like this.

Other ways to get involved:

If you feel extra motivated, you can show your appreciation for your favourite fics with fanart, edits, gifsets, moodboards— however you like! If you tag fancontent for a fic you’re reccing with #BylerFicRecWeek2023 we’ll be sure to reblog it! Make sure to tag the fic’s author when you share your creation, because they’ll definitely want to see it.

Rules/FAQ:

NO NSFW. This blog will not post or reblog any submissions, asks, or posts made with the #BylerFicRecWeek2023 tag that contain NSFW fanfics. if you post a list containing multiple recs and only one of them is NSFW, we will still not share it.

Byler should be the MAIN pairing of any fics you rec for this event. Any side pairings are fine, but the fic needs to be centered on Byler.

There is no hard limit on how popular fanfics you rec for the event can be, but the main purpose of this event is to bring attention to smaller works and their creators. If you can, try to share recs for fics you haven’t seen talked about or that you feel deserve more attention than they get. Well-known writers and their stories are fantastic, but we want to help uplift other authors too.

Fics don't need to be completed for you to rec them! There are a lot of great ongoing stories that deserve to have more people on the hype train for new updates. That being said, please don't rec fics that have been confirmed  to be abandoned, or that haven't been updated since 2020. Anything that's received an update since then is fine to rec, as fics can come off hiatus at unexpected times.

Don't worry if you don't have fics to rec for each genre; you don't need to participate in every day to get involved.

Blog run and moderated by: @apatheticlexicographer , @willelfanpage , @ice-sculptures , @aceoflanterns , @miwism , @super-nova5045

[anincompletelist]

rwrb christmas recs! ❤️

hi all! :D i wanted to rec some festive fics for the holidays for fic rec friday this week!

I'm sure that I've missed some and that some are still to be posted, which will be included in the january rec if so! but here are a few that I've particularly enjoyed reading this month -- the holidays can be a difficult time for many of us and fic - both reading and writing it - can be such a wonderful distraction!

I hope all of you are doing well and being kind to yourselves and to one another this season. happy reading, and as always be sure to spread the love with a kudos, comment, or reblog if possible. enjoy, and happy christmas! <3

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fell apart (in the usual way) by @hypnostheory (E, 12k)

Henry is a mess around the holidays, and he's expecting to have a tremendously horrid time without Shaan. Fortunately, Alex has plans to make his Christmas both merry and bright. (Bodyguard!Alex Part 2)

When I Think About You by @clottedcreamfudge (E, 36k, wip)

Dream sharing is absolutely not a thing, even though Alex would very much like it to be. The magic of soulmates, however, means that someone you’ve never met – someone whose soul is tied to yours, in whatever way that manifests – can appear in your dreams, like an extra character who keeps popping up over and over again. They won’t be having the same dream as you, and you won’t actually meet, but whatever you remember from the dream can start to take shape in your waking hours; you can figure things out, bit by bit, dream by dream.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What's On My Mind) by @affectionatelyrs (E, 4k+)

With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought.

Every Day's a Holiday (When I'm Near To You) by bleedingballroomfloor (E, 30k)

I know this is a long shot, but if anyone’s going to Texas/anywhere south for the holidays and is crazy enough to drive there instead of fly, I’m looking for a road trip buddy. We can split gas money and snacks if you pick good ones. DM me if you’re interested. And Henry knows he's about the make the most idiotic decision he's ever made in his life. [Or, Henry impulsively tags along with Alex on a road trip to Texas with absolutely no plan. Surely this won't backfire.]

The Christmas Guest by @omgcmere (E, 17k)

Alex is looking forward to a relaxing winter break catching up with his sister after her semester abroad, but June's gone and ruined everything by inviting her insufferable international student friend to stay with their family for a real American Christmas experience. Henry is irritatingly gorgeous with a completely obnoxious superiority complex, and Alex is prepared to hate every single second he's forced to spend in his presence. As Alex starts to get into the Christmas spirit, however, he finds that maybe there's more to Henry than meets the eye - and maybe, just maybe, this will actually be the best Christmas ever

❤️ and if you finish all of these or don't see something you like, be sure to check out this wonderful collection!

New Traditions: A Red, White & Royal Blue Advent Calendar Event

featuring so many beautiful and lovely works by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @adreamareads @lizzie-bennetdarcy @whimsymanaged @raysletters @sparklepocalypse @thinkof-england @littlemisskittentoes and more!

❤️ as well as a few rwrb holiday fic roundup posts I've seen floating around:

cricketnationrise's holiday fics / @cricketnationrise chamel's holiday fics / @cha-melodius railmedaddy's holiday fics / @rmd-writes allmylovesatonce's holiday fics / @three-drink-amy clottedcreamfudge's holiday fics / @clottedcreamfudge

❤️ and, last but most definitely not least, a wonderful and thorough rec from @roseharpermaxwell (thank you for all you do!)

RWRB FirstPrince Holiday Recs

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happy reading friends! :D

xx

[monstersinthecosmos]

but now the cosmos crawls with monsters

KACY. 30s. She/They.

This blog contains adult content, please do not follow if you are a minor.

hi friends! I'm Kacy, I write fanfiction! I like ducks and heavy metal! I mostly use this space to talk about The Vampire Chronicles, but I also like Sheith, and horror films, and kink theory! I am an asexual porn writer and I'm obsessed with Marius!

LINKS

AO3 - I am monstersinthecosmos on AO3, I write porn about VC, Sheith, and sometimes YOI!

Bsky - kacycarr on bsky - you will find mostly Sheithing here!

Ko-Fi - feel free to buy me a coffee if you like my fics! I have some fics available for purchase in digital download and paperback! I will also invite you to check out projects I created & co-mod called @vamptember (vampire prompts during the month of September!) and @priapus-at-the-gate (the VC Kink Meme!) VC STUFF!

I mostly use this space to talk about VC since the fandom is either dead or toxic as fuck on other platforms. I've been into VC since like THE YEAR 2000 LOL. I had fics that got taken down in the FFnet purge! Ancient! Marius is my favorite character and I'm more partial to Marius subplots/timelines. I'm also really into the Devil's Minion and Trinity Gate! I'm super into whatever the fuck was going on with Marius & Daniel! I could talk about Armand all fucking day! Pandora is my hero! Please expect posts about these things! I didn't love the AMC adaptation so I don't talk about it very often, because I try to focus on stuff I enjoy. ♡ TAGS

#stuff i wrote - IT'S FOR STUFF I WROTE. contains fics and discussion of fics. if they're very short they might only be on Tumblr and not on AO3.

#deep ass thoughts about vampires - my meta tag, sorry I came up with the name while I was stoned back in 2016 and I'm too lazy to change it :)

#trauma hole theory - if you want even DEEPER ass thoughts about vampires, this is where I park thoughts related to "do vampires have neuroplasticity?" and "would therapy even work on them?" #asexual vc - I don't really shut the fuck up about vampires being asexual so if you wanna hear about it CLICK HERE

#simple italian perv - MISC SMUTTY THOUGHTS to keep the rent low lol if you're new here I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me

#the skateboard of shakespeare - I visited Tulane last year and documented a ton of info from the Anne Rice collection! I use this tag when I share! #vampire chronicles- for book stuff!

#vampire pajama party on amc - this is my tag for the AMC show; I'm not a big fan of it so please feel free to mute if you don't want to see salt posts. (I have a second, even saltier tag called #the rolin jonestown massacre if you want to mute that one as well!)

#devils minion girlies - STILL WORKING HARD TO POPULATE THIS TAG but if you like thinking about Armand & Daniel as lesbians please see this tag. #unethical marius - I've been really obsessed lately with thinking about an AU where Marius is an unethical therapist LOLLL please feel free to peruse or mute as needed. #vampire music - I have like a ND relationship to music and I love sharing it even if no one else cares and taste is subjective but if you ever want vampirey music recs they will be here :D #fandom lolitics - I try not to share too much discourse & drama but it's here if you want to mute it! #vcficfriday - when I have time & remember to I like to share fics I've read on Fridays!!!! Please feel free to use this tag in your own blog as well, to build up fic writers!

I THINK THAT COVERS IT, FELLAS, please be kind to each other and don't be shy to send me asks if you have any questions!

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 9

prev next || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: A company formal. Your red dress. You dance with Jackson. Miguel is watching.

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 5.3k+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, cursing, jealousy, arguing, angst, the yearning, fingering, oral -m rec. creampie, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"What was that?" You asked him, wondering why he looked so flustered. Lyla popped in all the time, although, in fairness, this interruption was a tad dramatic - sudden and noisy.

"I programmed Lyla to...make sure I'm not a dick to you."

Miguel didn't ask about your date. Or hangout. Whatever.

He didn't look up any information regarding your whereabouts over the weekend. He didn't engage Lyla in any off-hours reconnaissance.

He didn't listen out for any office gossip.

Nope, he was an absolute professional about the whole thing.

"How was your weekend?" Your sweet voice chimed as the two of you entered the lab Monday morning.

"Uneventful," he shrugged. "So, about these numbers we ran..."

He kept his mind on the task at hand. He was definitely, for sure not at all distracted by your gorgeous legs peeking out of your fitted skirt.

He didn't stop by your office that afternoon. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. He was moody as hell though. Probably hungry.

On Thursday evening, he asked you to accompany him to a charity event on Friday evening. His company was being recognized - the mayor would be there. It was a big deal.

"I'm already going," you chuckled. "Remember, our whole department was invited."

Oh. Right.

"Besides forgetting I'm already going, did you actually just ask a girl to attend a formal event with one day of notice?" You teased him.

He had no answer. Because if your whole department was going, then Jackson would be there. Damn him.

"Is he going?" Miguel practically spat, folding his massive arms over his chest as he stood (safely) in your office doorway.

Rising from your desk chair, you started gathering your items to go home for the night.

"Is...who going?"

His fang sank into his bottom lip - this, you could see from across the room.

"No one. Want me to walk you out?" He deflected.

"Sure," you nonchalantly shrugged.

As you strolled out of the building, you thought the tension in his muscles might literally, physically split his shirt where his biceps bulged. He must be starving: what else could have him this agitated?

He said nothing else until you were outside the main entrance.

"Get in," he ordered, nodding to his car. "We'll take you."

"It’s okay. I - "

"Are we going to have this damn argument every night?" He huffed, referring to the fact that his driver had driven you home every evening this week. The ride you had taken with Miguel last Friday - the night you were almost certain he was going to kiss you - had spawned a bit of a new tradition.

"Just get in," he added, a little softer.

So you did. You always wanted to be around Miguel, any chance you could get. But his hunger thing was really getting to a breaking point. And there was no winning with him. If you expressed your concerns, then he accused you of not staying objective about his condition. Or assumed you were asking him to feed on you. But if he didn't feed soon, he was going to quite literally tear someone's head off.

Plus you had to deal with his grumpy ass every single day. Enough was enough.

So as you sat in the back of his car, beside him, his leg tapping impatiently, you tried to figure out how to broach the topic.

"Miguel?" You spoke his name softly, initially hoping to stay as far away from an argument as possible.

If he heard you, he didn't answer, staring straight ahead, practically vibrating with tension.

Slowly stretching your fingers out, you tentatively brushed his forearm, bare where he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

He flinched. "What?" He snapped, jerking his arm away, as if your touched burned his skin.

"I'm sorry," you squeaked, withdrawing your hand, your eyes wide and worried.

His jaw clenched as his eyes flashed red.

Right then, the Don't-Be-a-Dick Lyla alarm sounded, which he quickly silenced, muttering, "Shut the fuck up," and, "I wasn't doing anything," in the process.

You gave him a moment to collect himself before you spoke again - this time without touching him.

"Are you all right?" You softly asked, gazing at his profile. His hair was disheveled - dark waves carelessly falling over his eyes. His strong jawline twitched and he was breathing rather dramatically through his nose.

"Fine," he muttered, not even sparing you a glance. "Almost there."

"Can't wait to get rid of me?" You shot back. "Then why did you ask me to get in? I could've taken the train if I'm such a pain in your ass."

He didn't answer.

"And you asked me to the gala tomorrow night? Are you serious?" So maybe you were picking a fight, which was a terrible idea. Then again, was it starting a fight or just expressing yourself? You'd always been a blunt person - it was one of the first things Miguel admired about you. You were sick of stifling your opinions in hopes of not pissing him off.

That was bullshit abusive behavior and you were not going to stay in that cycle with him - walking on eggshells like a victim.

Besides that - you weren't actually afraid of him. You liked all the unhinged and violent things he'd done to you. You wanted that side of him too. It was Miguel who could not accept himself, and had been punishing you for it.

Well you were fucking done.

"I didn't realize you already had a date when I asked," he coolly responded, completely throwing you for a loop with his change of attitude.

"A date - what? What are you talking about?"

He finally granted you a glance, briefly, before turning back to stare out the car window. "Jackson. You're going with him, right?"

You scoffed. "What the hell gave you that idea?"

"You didn't say yes to me," he reasoned, more with himself than by actually conversing intelligently with you. "And he's in your department, so...I guess he asked you already."

It took you a moment to digest how incredibly thick your brilliant boss was being. "I'm sorry...what? First of all, I didn't say no to you. I just said I'm already going to the event."

Shifting in your seat, you turned your body to face him. "And secondly, you're assuming that a woman who says no to you must have another date? I am perfectly capable of taking myself to the gala. Or going with a friend, or another co-worker. I don't need a man to take me."

Miguel rolled his eyes, turning to to face you. "Are you done?" he asked, infuriatingly. "Because I just wanted to ask you to save me a dance. Unless you had a date."

That comment left you a little speechless. But he wasn't getting out of this so easily. "I'm not worried about the gala anyway. I'm worried about you." Reaching for his arm again, you squeezed gently. "You're hungry. And no bullshit, Miguel. I'm really worried about you."

Shrugging your hand off his arm he shook his head firmly. "You're off the clock. We can talk about it in the lab."

God you were going to rip your hair out of your head. Then his hair out of his. And then...you weren't sure what, but he was driving you crazy. His complete dismissal for your concern, combined with his arrogant treatment of you possibly having a date. Your fists clenched by your sides as you fought with all your might not to shout at him or punch him or something.

Finally, mercifully, your building appeared and you practically sprinted out of the car and up to your apartment.

You barely made it through the door when you got a message on your phone.

'I'm sorry. You're right, I'm hungry. I'm trying. I'm sorry.'

Squeezing your eyes shut, you sank down on the edge of your couch, wondering if you should even bother with a reply. Your heart ached for him, but would he ever be able to, or someday want to give you even a piece of his?

You waited so long to reply that you finally gave up, not knowing what to say. You showered and got ready for bed, tossing and turning agitatedly. What you wouldn't give to use Miguel's body for some stress relief. Or just some fun.

After staring at your ceiling for a half hour, you felt your phone buzz beside you.

Another message. Jackson this time.

'Can't wait to see you at the gala. Save me a dance, ok?'

Well, there it was. You were dateless for the gala, but now scheduled for two dances with two different men. Fun. Truth be told, you had a great time with Jackson last Friday, but it did honestly feel like an after-work hangout and not a date. He didn't make any moves, and you didn't feel anything but friendly affection.

Every other feeling you could possibly muster was wrapped up in Miguel O'Hara.

You typed out a quick response, letting Jackson know you would definitely dance with him. Right as you hit send, your phone buzzed again. Miguel was calling in.

Of course you instantly answered. He almost never called.

"Miguel?" You answered with his name, assuming something was wrong.

"Hey. I hope it's not too late," he answered slowly, sounding uncertain.

"No. No, I'm awake," you gently responded, sitting up in bed. "You okay?"

A long silence followed, prompting you to call his name again.

"I'm here," he sighed. "I'm...I...I'm hungry. I almost killed someone."

Your skin prickled with heat. "Did you feed?"

You heard nothing but the sound of him breathing in and out, heavily.

"Miguel."

"I didn't. I stopped an attack - I...I saved someone and then...but I didn't feed or anything. Roughed him up though. He's in the hospital."

"Shit," you huffed, now pacing your bedroom floor. "What do you want to do? You're not going to stay out there, are you?"

He kept pausing infuriatingly long between questions.

"I...I was hoping you could talk me out of it," he confessed, his voice strained and a little desperate. "You're the only person who doesn't take my shit. Tell me to go home. I should go home, right?"

Shaking your head, you laughed out, somewhat bitterly. "I feel like the last person you listen to lately. Everything I say to you is wrong. I honestly can't believe you're even asking me anything."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he sighed over the line. "This whole...lifestyle change is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

Ugghh, you knew it. "Just come over," you offered, without thinking too hard about it. "Come over and we'll figure it out, okay? You need to get off the streets."

He waited so long to answer this time, you thought maybe your phone dropped the call.

"Miguel - "

"I'm outside your window," he finally admitted, his voice muffled, as if he might be trying to keep his voice down.

You whirled around, glaring at your closed curtains. "What the hell...how long have you been there?"

Even as you interrogated him, you rushed over to let him in, ending the call and tossing your phone on the nearest chair.

Miguel's bulky form squeezed in the window rather gracefully, actually, clad deliciously in his dark blue spider suit.

He held up his hands defensively, assuming you were going to tear him a new one. "I know I shouldn't be here. I'm an asshole, I know. I just...I'm not...I don't really feel well..."

"Come on," you urged, wrapping your arm around his waist to urge him to join you in walking to your bed.

He sat down on the edge, letting out a weary sigh as his elbows hit his thighs. He pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration before resting his head in his palms.

You attempted to ignore the fact that Miguel had come to you for help - that he was in your home, in your bed. Just a few weeks ago, you would already have climbed across his lap and fused your lips with his. The two of you wouldn't have slowed for a second until you were both sated and he was full of your blood.

But now...what could he need from you?

"Let me get you some water, okay?" You softly offered. "Then I want you to try to get some sleep."

Miraculously, he didn't argue, and he allowed you to help him lie back on your bed. When you returned with water, just a minute or two later, his eyes were closed.

You didn't actually believe he was asleep, but he seemed, at least, peaceful. So you carefully set the glass of water on the bedside table and left him alone, trying to ignore the delicious fit of his skin-tight suit.

Miguel didn't actually fall asleep when you went to get him some water. But, in your home, with you, he felt safe. Steady. True, there was the temptation to sink his fangs into your neck, especially if he could have your body too, but he kept his eyes closed, focusing on simply being off the streets, here with you.

His spunky, brilliant, beautiful guardian angel.

He wasn't going to touch or harm one hair on your head. Lyla would help make sure of it, and he certainly didn't want to have her chiming in at a time like this.

He felt terrible for taking your bed, but eventually, you lay down beside him. His heart thundered at the thought of sharing your bed, but still, he remained a statue.

"You're safe here, Miguel," he heard you faintly whisper. "I won't let anything happen to you."

God, if he wasn't a monster, he would roll over and kiss you breathless.

But he remained perfectly still, his eyes glued shut until he heard your breathing slow and relax. Even then, he waited longer, until he was certain you were out cold before he finally turned onto his side.

Tucking his hands under his cheek, he smiled at your adorable, sleeping form. His heart burned in his chest. Sometimes it was difficult to even look at you.

"I miss you so much," he whispered, the words rushing out of him before he could think to stop them. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rolled all the way over and stared at the wall so he wouldn't do anything stupid, either in or out of this apartment.

When you woke up the next day, Miguel was gone. Of course.

But once you got into the lab, he pulled you aside for an unprecedented in-lab personal conversation.

"Listen...I wanted to thank you for last night," he sincerely voiced, ducking down closer to your eye level. With a gentle smile, he went on. "I know I'm not an easy person to work with, but...you have no idea how much you helped me last night. It meant so much to me."

His warm, crimson eyes roved over your features, skimming their way down to your mouth, your throat, your chest, and finally, back up to lock onto your gaze.

"Sometimes I feel like you're my guardian angel."

You were floored. Swallowing hard, you nodded, your eyes wide.

"Of course, Miguel. I'm always here for you. Anytime. Anything you need."

He regarded you with the most tender smile you'd ever seen. "You'll save me a dance tonight?"

"Yeah," you laughed warmly. "I would love to dance with you."

Then he was back to business. You didn't speak about anything else personal for the rest of the day.

You arrived at the gala in a killer dress. Your aunt and your neighbor/friend had helped you pick it out and you were excited.

It was a deep ruby color, like Miguel's eyes. That's exactly the shade you envisioned when you first laid eyes on the gown. It was sleeveless, with a deep V cut down the middle past your breastbone, and a laced, corset back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you could imagine Miguel sliding his hands into the fabric covering your breasts, or using his talons to slice open the tight corset ribbons on the back.

The skirt was a high-low style, with the front, center hem being the shortest, and the fabric billowing down to the floor behind your ankles.

Since your promotion, you were easily able to afford the dress, after saving a little for it first.

You arrived at the gala alone, demonstrating to yourself, and to Miguel, if he cared, the you did not in fact need a man to escort you around for the evening.

The event was huge, and you had a little trouble locating co-workers from your department, but you finally did, and grabbed a drink in the process.

Jackson arrived a few minutes later and made a beeline for you. "Look at you!" He marveled, reaching in to give you a quick hug. "You look amazing - I could see you all the way across the room!"

You thanked him and returned the compliment, relieved, honestly to see a such a friendly, familiar face. You and Jackson shared a drink before he led you out to the floor for a dance.

You were a little nervous about dancing, but Jackson insisted you would be fine. "My mom made me take lessons for five years," he explained. "I hated it then, but it comes in handy sometimes."

He wasn't wrong. The two of you glided around the floor for a few songs in a row, and you were having a good time. But as the hour drew near for the presentation to Miguel for his company, you started to wonder where your boss could be.

Honestly, you had one eye peeled for him the entire time. You liked Jackson, but the room felt empty without Miguel there. You were dying to see him, and you could only imagine how delicious he would look in his suit or tux.

Not only that - you hoped he would like your dress. You knew red was one of his favorite colors.

You never saw him until his name was called and he was presented his award on a small stage at the front of the ballroom. He was charming and engaging and gave a lovely, but brief speech. You and your coworkers clapped animatedly. He had made you all proud. And it felt good when he recognized your department.

You tried to make your way through the crowd to the stage, to at least congratulate Miguel, but by the time you squeezed through the party-goers, he had vanished.

He owed you a dance, and you were honestly hoping to spend some off-duty time with him tonight, with or without Jackson hanging around nearby.

Feeling frustrated, you grabbed another drink before moseying back to your colleagues. You danced with a couple of other co-workers, and even did some fun dances with a few of the girls. Jackson asked you for another turn around the floor, and you accepted, silently wilting inside at the thought that Miguel wasn't even going to show his face, let alone dance with you.

A slow dance with Jackson came to a close and you decided to go find the restroom. You didn't really need to go that badly, you just wanted a breather.

You rounded a corner to head toward the restroom, when out of nowhere, a strong hand covered your mouth while a massive arm pulled you through a darkened doorway.

Your first instinct was to scream, but Miguel's voice fell on your ear -warm and husky - his breath tinged with a bit of alcohol.

"It's me. It's okay. It's me."

Slowly removing his hand from your mouth, he expected you to turn around and smack him or at least curse at him, but you remained in your current position, facing away from him and simply wilted in his embrace.

"You're here," you sighed, nuzzling the back of your head against his chest. "I was waiting for you."

He wrapped both arms around your waist from behind and pulled you close. "Didn't seem like you were. You looked busy."

You should have been pissed. But he was holding you, so you didn't care. It struck you then, that he would always be the one your eyes would search for in a room. That he was the one who filled an empty room, just like he filled your heart.

God, you loved him. It burned the heart out of you, but it couldn't be helped.

"W-were you watching me?" You finally managed, thrilled, instead of angry at the idea.

"How could I not?" He breathed on your ear, his fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, through the fabric of your dress. "I mean, look at you. You're stunning. How could I look away? Tu eres mi hermosa angel de la guardia."

"I-I thought you might like the color of my dress," you confessed in a rush. "It reminds me of your eyes."

A growl rumbled in the expanse of his chest. "You thought of me when you picked it out? Mi corazón..."

His lips left your ear, attaching themselves to the smooth column of your neck.

You shivered. Was he actually kissing you? "Of course I was thinking of you. I'm always thinking of you." You gasped out as one hand slid over your stomach, between your breasts, to the expanse of exposed skin. Miguel's fingers gently traced your collarbone, the tips of his talons teasing you, before his fingers wrapped around your throat.

"I saw him dancing with you," he growled, giving you the slightest squeeze. Gripping your jaw, he forced your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, which he tauntingly scraped with his fangs.

Your knees gave a little as you gasped for air. "You didn't dance with me," you breathlessly accused. "I was waiting all night for you. But you weren't there. So I danced with him instead."

"Are you sure you didn't wear this for him?" He snarled, slipping his hand back down your chest. "Because his eyes were right here the entire time." As he said the word 'here', he slid his hand into the easily accessible fabric covering your breast and squeezed the soft flesh.

You gasped as his one talon grazed your hardened nipple. "Maybe his eyes were looking," you gasped, relishing the feel of him fondling you after so long apart, "but you're the one touching me."

"That's fucking right," he husked, both of his strong hands caressing your breasts as he thrust into you from behind. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel his hardened length.

It made you moan so loud that he covered your mouth again.

"Shh, baby," he darkly chuckled, nibbling on your ear.

You quickly nodded, indicating you would be quiet and his hands returned to their task. Still positioned behind you, his left hand slid inside the easily-accessible right panel of your dress, caressing your breast, kneading the flesh. It felt so fucking good - you had been desperate for his touch for too long.

As if reading your mind, his right hand snaked down your stomach, over the curve of your hip to the conveniently high hem of the front part of your dress. Without a second of hesitation, and without express permission, he dragged the fabric upward with this thumb and first finger, tauntingly sliding his other fingers over the bare flesh of your inner thigh.

He stopped when he arrived at your warm center. Your warm, bare center. He rattled off a string of curses in Spanish before cupping your mound and growling on your ear.

"You didn't wear fucking panties?" Another string of Spanish followed, but you were too distracted by his hand cupping your cunt, and his erection rubbing insistently against your ass.

"Was this for him?" He spat, dragging one finger through your slick folds, talon extended, although not pressing down enough to tear flesh. You almost shrieked in pleasure as he thrust that finger inside you. "Is this for him too? I'll fucking tear out his throat."

"Unh, Miguel," you panted, pushing your hips down on his finger. "Your eyes, baby. The dress...matches your eyes."

He knew that. You already told him, but he wanted to hear you say the words. "And the rest?" He pressed. "Tell me why you're soaked - why your cunt has been bare all night."

"For this," you gasped, as he slid another finger inside you, retracting his talons and curling his fingers forward. He groaned as you rotated your hips, fucking yourself down over his hand. "Wanted this. Wanted you."

"Good girl," he panted, pushing his cock against the delicious swell of your ass. "My beautiful girl. Always so good for me. Always wet and ready for me."

"Yes...Miguel..." You gasped as his thumb pushed firmly over your needy clit. "Feels so good. Please...please don't stop."

"Not gonna stop, angel," he purred, working you faster, groaning as you rolled your hips so vigorously, you might as well have been riding cock. "You've been perfect for me. Gonna make you feel so good tonight."

His words alone sent you careening right over the edge. Your knees completely gave out, you were gasping and moaning so loudly, you were sure it would draw unwanted attention at any moment. Your cunt gushed over his hand, your walls fluttering around his fingers as he worked you through your release.

You were trembling, the release felt so good. You hadn't been with anyone else and he had been driving you completely crazy. It was such a relief, but it only lit a fire, leaving you desperate for more.

Finding your footing, you reached down and pulled his hand out of your cunt so you could turn around.

"Hold on a second," you instructed, yanking open his belt and unfastening his pants.

"Baby, what are you - "

He moaned out as you pushed his clothing down roughly to his knees, allowing his hard cock to spring free.

"Touch yourself," you commanded, gripping his wrist and pushing his hand toward his cock.

He groaned, sliding the hand coated in your juices over his flushed length. You wet your lips at the sight, sinking to your knees.

He was already gasping for air as you stroked his balls with your fingertips.

"Fuck. Baby...you don't have to - " he started.

"Shhh," you interrupted, wrapping one hand around his shaft and starting to gently stroke him. "Want your cock."

And you did just that, using your grip on him to set him on your hot tongue, waiting until his fiery red eyes locked onto yours as you rubbed the tip of your tongue over his slit, tasting the salty wetness collecting there.

Pulling back for a moment, you relished the slight and rare shred of power you held over him. "Ask me," you ordered.

His jaw clenched, but he wasn't about to argue with you at a time like this. Not with you on your knees, so pretty for him.

You teased him with a few kitten licks to his tip, tickling the base of him with your fingertips. "Ask me."

"Open," he commanded. His version of asking was likely going to be to tell you what to do. "Wanna fuck your pretty mouth."

"Mmm, that's not asking," you playfully chided, fingertips still toying with him. This was dangerous ground and you knew it. "You can do whatever you want to my mouth, baby. You can come down my throat, but you need to ask me."

He roughly grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and forcing them open. "I said...I'm gonna fuck your mouth." Then he shoved his cock deep inside, all the way back to your throat, causing you to gag.

"Good girl," he purred as you struggled to regain your composure. "Gonna make a mess of you, hermosa. Want to see you cry for me."

You jerked away, gripping his shaft with force with both hands. "Fuck you," you spat. Then you took him in your mouth anyway and sucked hard.

He growled in protest, holding your face still as he started to fuck your mouth.

Fuck, you loved being used by him. As he thrust in and out, filling up your mouth over and over, all the way back to your throat, you breathed through your nose and hollowed your cheeks to make it good for him.

With both hands, you twisted and pumped his shaft - every bit that wouldn't fit into your mouth, encouraging him to fuck your face faster and harder.

He was right - he did make you cry. Tears stung the corners of your eyes, mingling with your mascara to track down your face. As soon as he saw the mess he was making of you, he snarled in triumph.

"Fuck, you look pretty like this, crying on your knees for me. Want you to swallow me."

So you did. With a few more violent thrusts, he shot his hot load down your throat, his thrusts growing sloppy as he emptied himself in your hot cavern.

He didn't leave you on the floor for long. As soon as you were done swallowing, he dragged you to your feet and pushed you up against the nearest wall.

Without a word, he licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, his tongue lustfully rolling over yours. He groaned at the taste of himself, loving that you sucked down every drop he gave you - his perfect girl.

Wrapping his arms around you, his lustful, filthy kisses soothed into something a little more sensual. He pulled you against his chest, using his strong hips to pin you in place against the wall.

"Come home with me," he whispered, between sweet, soft kisses to your mouth - your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. "Let me take care of you tonight. Need you so bad."

Your senses were completely overwhelmed. You would be lying if you even tried to pretend you didn't wish for a sexy interlude like this with Miguel tonight. But reality was starting to set in, and all the words he'd thrown back in your face seeped into the moment, poisoning it.

"We...I shouldn't," you finally managed, halfheartedly attempting to pull away from his embrace. "You asked me not to."

He knew you were right, but he was desperate for you. The realization he'd had last night in your bed - the sight of Jackson dancing with you again and again...he was at his breaking point.

He kissed you again, tenderly, his lips caressing your own as his arms held you close.

"Will you at least let me make you come one more time?" He murmured temptingly. "Want to hear those pretty sounds you make. Want to feel you squeeze my cock. I'll make it good, baby. I"ll make you feel so good."

"Oh god," you gasped, realizing his hands were already wandering, pushing up your dress. "Miguel, wait, please, wait."

He did stop, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours - your breath mingling with his as you panted. "I want you," you admitted, grasping his arms, trying to focus. "I'll always want you but - you won't feel the same on Monday. You'll shut me out, you'll blame me."

"No," he protested, brushing his fingers temptingly over your cheek, tracing down your neck. "I won't. I need you."

"You don't," you insisted. "Not all of me, not really. You only put up with me for your research. You don't need me. You don't need anyone."

"Mi corazón, por favor," he breathed, desperately grasping at your hips to pull you closer. "You're the one person I need more than anything. You have no idea how much I've missed you."

He whispered your name, brushing his lips over yours. You kissed him back - you couldn't help yourself. His tongue rolled over yours - his hands sliding up the curve of your back. He swept you up into his strong arms, pulling your feet off the floor, kissing you endlessly.

When you parted for air, he brushed his nose against your cheek.

You had a decision to make - your heart and your body wanted nothing more than to spend the night with Miguel, in his arms, in his bed, with him inside you. But your mind was trying to protect you.

next

@deputy-videogamer @toecurlingstories @zephyrixx @wordacadabra @juleshadalittlelamb @thexsanctuaryx @tsukkie-daisuke @minigirl87

[jazzerdoc]

FIC REC FRIDAY

this week's theme is: a fic that surprised you OR a fic with a great twist

tag the fic that surprised you and / or a fic with a great twist and describe why it's so good. then tag some fellow associates to see what everyone else is reading. the broader the fandoms the better and don't be shy to rec older fics! make sure to tag #fic rec friday or @welcometololaland so that she can compile the masterlist.

Thanks for the tag @welcometololaland and @cha-melodius (And Lola I borrowed your Fic Rec Friday pic.)

These are both RWRB fics (I’m moving fast here, peeps; having a glorious time in Florence - Italy - with one of my tagged peeps).

So I, too, would include @rmd-writes’s TO THE VICTOR, THE SPOILS. Such a good surprise!

But I would also like to include @clottedcreamfudge’s THE COST OF ANYTHING, because there are so many twists and turns and surprises in this story; it was hard to keep up with and exhausting (in a good way). TCOA was an emotional rollercoaster of a fic for me, and I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t comment on it, which is not to say that I didn’t assail ccf privately about it on the regular. So here’s my public endorsement, ccf. 💜

I hereby tag my usual suspects: @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @the-amber-fox @cinnamoncoffees @rmd-writes @everwitch-magiks @indomitable-love @clottedcreamfudge, most of whom have way better fic organizational skills and fic memories than I have. Do it or do not do it, my friends. It’s ALL GOOD. 🥰

[thehauntedinfirmary]

Fic Rec Friday Edition 24

Welcome to Fic Rec Friday! We're in the mood for some longfics for this cozy December evening, so settle in and read along!

Hell for the Holidays by ma_malice Complete | 23k words

“There will be no sacrifice,” Shane said for the third time since they’d landed in Illinois. “Not so much as a chicken. Stop being weird.” Shane takes Ryan home for the holidays. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Santa Daddies by drunkkenobi Complete | 3k words

“I really think we should just tell her,” Shane argued. “Kids find out anyway, might as well have our girl be ahead of the class.” “Shane, she’s three!” Ryan shot back. “All kids should believe in Santa at three!” Or: Ryan and Shane vs The Santa Problem

The Young and the Hopeless by mccxxvi Complete | 54k words

He lifted the towel to wipe his small mirror, when he saw it. There was writing on the mirror, a single word wiped into the condensation, written with a finger, a set of tidy, straight letters. Alexander. Ryan almost screamed. The ghost wanted Ryan to find his murderer and bring him to the light. Alexander must have been whoever murdered him. Ryan sighed, resigned to be the detective responsible for it. “Fine, I’ll find this Alexander you want. But I don’t know what to do afterwards,” he said to his empty room. A 1960s Professor!Shane/PhDstudent!Ryan gothic novel flavored AU fic, because i know a market gap when i see one.

A Ghoul's Guide to Life, Death & Afterliving by MercurySkies Complete | 70k words

'Shane was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that, to quote ‘the’ Charles Dickens with an emphasis on the 'dick'. They didn’t tell you the great Victorian novelist was also a grade A asshole in high school but then again what do they tell you in high school? Shane Madej was dead, as dead as one disembodied soul standing seemingly above his own corpse probably can be.'

The Last Days Of The Bergara Gang by PhyllisDietrichson Complete | 41k words

“Plus,” and he smiles with all of his white teeth, “if we’d left you there much longer to cardsharp that crew, likely your night would have ended with a knife to the throat.” He reaches out as if to graze his fingers over Shane’s clavicle, then remembers himself at the last minute. His hand hovers in the air. “And what a shame it would be, to mar that throat.” “Do you—what do you want, Bergara?” Shane stammers out. He winces at the waver in his voice. “You,” he responds, his eyes sweeping up to meet him with a gaze that pierces Shane between the ribs.

hey boy, take a look at me by weakspots Complete | 18k words

Ryan is 27, for Christ’s sake, and he’s not exactly hideous, so there’s really no reason to spend his money on a dude — a dude — whose face he’ll never see but whose livestreams he’s been jerking off to for roughly 4 months now. He should be going out and partying and fucking random chicks. Or a guy, whatever, just to get it out of his system and confirm to himself that he really is 100% straight. Because he is. This is morbid curiosity, if anything.

Whatever The Opposite Of Lesbian Sheep Syndrome Is by orphan_account Complete | 9k words

Shane was the one who kissed, not the one who was kissed. Shane was the one who did the holding, not the one who was held, and that was fine.

made it so far in time by addandsubtract Complete | 12k words

“I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure the you I’m friends with is older,” Ryan says, and then winces.

use somebody by bodhirookes Complete | 10k words

“You’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met,” Shane says over the sound of Ryan’s workout noises, which are equal parts distracting and hideous. “Why can’t you just be a lazy asshole like the rest of us?” “I have a figure and reputation to maintain,” Ryan grits out, not even pausing to look at him. “Can’t be a big, bad ghost hunter without my guns.” Or, Shane has a thing for Ryan's muscles and Ryan has a thing for Shane having a thing.

a child's answer by deerie Complete | 2k words

“You know, it’s kind of sad about the Queen Mary,” Ryan says as they make their way to the mess hall. “That’s where I saw a ghost for the first time.” Shane stares at him incredulously. Ryan can tell that he wants to say something, but is refraining. He’ll have to find the video of the tube of toothpaste being knocked off the counter as proof to show Shane. Ryan remembers the panic he felt in that moment: the revelation that something existed outside of the realm of what he understood. It’s the same feeling that he had when the Kaiju first appeared, thrashing and tearing and ripping buildings and bridges to shreds.

A Symptom of Time by fightingfuries WIP | 12k words

"Sure," Shane says easily like he doesn't believe Ryan for a second. "You're living out the plot of the 1993 Bill Murray vehicle Groundhog Day. Now where does the kissing factor in, exactly?" "You were all like 'I'm Shane, I don't believe in magic but you should find a tall brunette to kiss.’" Shane laughs again, helplessly. "I'm the tall brunette? I obviously meant Andie McDowell." He catches himself. "If I had said that, which I didn't, because time loops aren't real."

Want to learn more about The Haunted Infirmary? Check out our pinned post!

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 4

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Serenade by @porcelaincas

“Will Solace,” Nico said. They were so close now that Nico could see that there were golden flecks among the blue in his irises. “Are you trying to serenade me?” or the one where Nico falls for Will even before the battle against Gaea and it all culminates on a warm summer night.

i am always a deep deep sucker for fics where will and nico know each other, at least slightly, before BoO. theyre so fascinating and for what. in this one in particular...oh will helping nico in the bronze jar is crazy. i don't want to spoil it but my ass was sat on that seat reading.

2. Stupid Teens by tihsho

Will likes getting gifts, and Nico likes the way Will blushes whenever he gives him anything. It should be a simple situation, but nothing's ever simple for Nico. Something's bothering Will, and Nico can't do anything about it. Never mind that he still can't seem to put a name to these feelings, either. Maybe there's a point in here about anger and nuance, or maybe it's a point about being young, or self acceptance, or whatever else. Or maybe Nico's just reading into it too much.

yes the homophobia scene is a little gratuitous. HOWEVER. the beginning scene is so dorky and ridiculous that i actually smile WIDE every time, first time i read it i laughed out loud. and the whole nico likes to spoil will a little bit (a lot bit) even well before they got together headcanon is GODSENT its one of my favourites. and i also like in this one how will maybe needs a minute to get comfortable in his sexuality too!!

3. Find Happiness in Misery by percyspandapillowpet

"Nothing can make me happy, Solace," he spat bitterly before turning away and wiping furiously at his face. "I like to try." --- In which Nico is searching for happiness, for his childhood, and for a Christmas present.

this is an older fic, but i think it still holds up!! i love any fic that goes over the whole mythomagic thing tbh. theres so much story potential there and this fic had a very sweet premise.

4. Looks Like We'll Be Trapped Here For A While by percyspandapillowpet

Nico stopped in his tracks and turned towards Will. “The Aphrodite cabin is planning to prank us. Today.” Will raised his eyebrows. “How do you know?” "They were talking about it. I just heard them.” Sighing as if it were just what he was expecting to hear this morning, Will reached up to scratch the back of his head. “Okay. What do you want to do about it?” Nico pondered this for a moment. “I think we should hide.” “Hide? Where?” Will asked. “We can’t leave camp, and it’ll be awfully boring to stay in the forest or something all day.” After a quick mental scan of all possible locations, Nico realized there was only one unfortunate solution. “Um…how about my cabin?”

cheesy and fun!! the mythomagic scene in particular made me giggle. in particular i love this part and feel like you should all be made aware of it:

“It’s…a game I used to play, when I was little,” he replied carefully.

Will looked up at him. “Do you still remember how to play?”

He felt his entire face turning red. “Well…kind of, I guess, but I’ve outgrown it…”

Will glanced at the back of the box. “What’s the attack power of Athena?”

“Five thousand,” Nico replied automatically, and then immediately groaned. That stupid game was so hardwired into his brain, and now Will was going know how much of a weird geek he was—

But Will was smiling. “That’s adorable. Teach me how to play.”

nico being physically unable to hold the stats back....unbeatable headcanon. adore

5. Pawsitively Perfect by percyspandapillowpet

“Is that…” Nico couldn’t even finish is sentence when suddenly the thing mewed. A moment afterwards, it revealed its tiny brown face, turning to face the son of Hades with round, curious eyes that seemed much too large for the rest of its head. Nico would be lying if he said it wasn’t the most adorable little creature he had ever laid eyes upon. But soon enough, the reality hit him. Will had a cat. Cats were not allowed in camp. Will had brought the cat into the Hades cabin, so if they were caught, they would likely both get in trouble. Not that Nico was scared of getting in trouble with the cleaning harpies—it was safe to say he’d been through a lot worse. What he didn’t think he could handle was the shame of being ridiculed as the kid who tried to hide a kitten with Will Solace. Jason would never let it go. Nico glanced from the kitten’s face back up to Will’s, which was somehow equally as endearing with his pleading-blue-puppy eyes. He knew what he was going to ask just from his expression. He sighed. “Will, you can’t keep it.”

bleeding heart will my beloved. sweatshirt thief nico u are so real. honestly a power couple what more could u want. a kitten? there's a kitten, rest assured.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec 36

welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

People Will Say (You're In Love) by @azapofinspiration

For some reason, people keep on mistaking Keith and Lance as a couple. Lance has some ideas as to why that is, but Keith has some too. Really, whose fault is it?

this fic is so ROMANTIC it makes me swoony. this is also an excellent trope. we are so in love and so good for each other that everyone thinks we are in love because we are too close to see it but no one else is. we are our own bubble. idc how cliche it is i love it

2. With Flying Colours by @azapofinspiration

They say that the Lion chooses the Paladin. The Blue Lion chose Lance to be her Paladin. And then all the other Lions seemed pretty okay with him piloting them as well.

the funny thing about this one is that my bookmark is all hoo boo the lion change is so bad but this is good but now im like the lion change truther lol. but if u are hesitant about the lion change i highly recommend this! it makes PERFECT sense that lance would be the one to pilot them all, u know? the fluid one

3. Aim by @azapofinspiration

There's something that's been bugging Shiro about Lance. He finally asks about it. He feels like he should have expected that answer.

I LOVE THIS ONE ITS SO FUNNY. i also have incorporated this entire ficc into my belief system. if ur looking for a good shiro & lance fic and also a fic that will make u GIGGLE then head over.

4. In Stitches by @azapofinspiration

With every stitch, a bigger picture can be seen. And each one is made with love. In which everyone on Team Voltron learns more about Lance as he knits the day away. And maybe he learns something too.

knitter lance is so important actually. shame the show only mentioned it once and never again bc if lance is one thing its crafty. luckily azap is the reigning monarch of found family in missing vld moments

5. The (Not-So) Necessary Rescue by @azapofinspiration

Lance has been captured by the Galra, and Shiro and the rest of the team rush to save him. Due to a bit of luck, they manage to get there to rescue him but... Well, it turns out that it may not have been as necessary as Shiro thought. In which Shiro learns that he has severely underestimated Lance and Lance is freaking awesome.

i LOVE this fic. nothing is more funny to me than the idea of the team rushing to try to find and save lance and discover him w his foot halfway out the door already lol. i have read this fic like ninety times. also i swear ive already recced this one but whatever double rec bc this fic rocks

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[welcometololaland]

911 lone star tag game

thank you @tellmegoodbye for creating this tag and for tagging me 💜 sorry it took me so long to get to it. thanks also to @lemonlyman-dotcom @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry

@chicgeekgirl89 @thisbuildinghasfeelings for the tags and @howtosingit and @captain-gillian mentioning my name, unfortunately for you i have taken that as a tag.

When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?

someone (it may have been @three-drink-amy) was yelling about the proposal in a group chat somewhere and i was stuck at home, injured, completely unable to walk, miserable and hating life...so I opened a YouTube video to see what the fuss was about. and then i watched all 3 seasons over the next 2 days.

Which season is your favorite?

three

Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)

if you'd asked me a year ago, i might have had a different answer, but now (after over a year of almost exclusively writing carlos), i think it has to be him. i just think that i understand carlos a lot better than i used to. aside from tarlos...it's a hard toss up between grace and paul.

Top five episodes. Go!

you don't write 9 fics about push unless you really love push, so it's 3 x 04 every day for me. i'm actually sick for the pilot (1 x 01). i love a good origin story. my three others would be 3 x 13, 3 x 07 and a fight to the death between 3 x 18 for the proposal and 4 x 16 for soulmates.

If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?

i think the logical choice is nancy, because we really don't know a lot about her. the more she is on the screen the more i am starting to really enjoy her as a character and i'd like to know more. i'm also obsessed with getting as much reyes family backstory as i can. i'm CONVINCED tia lucy has to turn up somewhere. i need to meet that queen.

What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?

total cop out answer for me - i have no hopes because every time i start clowning i get the fear i might curse it. i'm just here for the ride, kids.

What do you think is going on in this still?

see answer above - i think the obvious answer is something about gabriel's death/the murder investigation but i'm not counting my chickens before they hatch or whatever the saying is. (also, they could def be trolling us and it's some scene in which tk is hangry and carlos is calling up the pizza place around the corner to ask where their order is because it's been 50 minutes and how long does a pizza really take?)

We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?

it's no secret that i prefer sexy scenes when there's more at stake - a frantic hook up is hot but i prefer anything with feelings upon feelings upon feelings. so i hope whatever it is, it's emotional.

Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?

i wrote a whole fic about it, so it's hard to go against my own narrative. but i assume somewhere in texas. it definitely wasn't the under the tuscan sun remake carlos had apparently been dreaming about (but i hope they get there one day).

Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.

there's actually too many to mention, and somehow even though i've only been in this fandom for coming up two years, i feel like i'm a relic 😂 i have so many personal favourites that have come across my dash (a lot of them due to fic/fandom rec friday which i miss with all my heart). but i do want to say that if you create for this fandom in any capacity, whether that is art, fic, gifs, vids, metas etc., your creations are such a gift. every single one adds something that the fandom didn't have before and makes us as a collective all the richer 💜 also, i think it's important to acknowledge the importance of the members of the fandom who are readers or beta readers, or even casual observers. everyone i've come across on this site or in the ao3 comments or discord has such unique experiences and personalities and adds so much flavour to this fandom! so thank you for being here! and thanks to @tellmegoodbye again for giving me an excuse to just ramble on about that.

an open tag because i'm very late, but if you haven't participated, please consider this a tag for you 💜

[palmviolet]

hi!!

would you mind sharing your top steddie fics??

looking for great recs

hi! i'm ashamed to admit that i haven't read any steddie in... months. maybe a year. as a result i haven't got anything recent to recommend — but here are some of the ones i enjoyed anyway. if you want any more, my ao3 bookmarks are public!

matches burn after the other - limerental (5k)

It's ten years later. Steve's a hospice nurse. Eddie's got the virus. It's kind of weird and sad and strange and inevitable. Or something. And not as sad as it sounds.

Weakened Like Achilles, with You Always at My Heels - HMSLusitania (53k)

The graduating classes of 1985 and 1986 invite YOU back to West Hawkins! Welcome reception Friday, May 24th at 7:30pm. School and town tour to follow on Saturday morning. Memorial service Sunday. If you are a graduate of the class of 1985 and need driving directions to West Hawkins, please RSVP * Due to current government restrictions, we are not currently able to offer a site visit to the Hawkins Exclusion Zone Steve Harrington goes home for his ten (well, eleven) year reunion with a nagging secret that's slowly ruining his life. In the ten years between, he finds the family he always wanted and, unfortunately, the person he wanted to share it with.

windowsill - lagardère (laurore), MissAntlers (13k)

“It’s about finding what you’re invested in,” Ms Kelley had said. “It will help with the process of recovery. You need to find it, and nurture it.” Whatever Ms Kelley meant, surely it wasn’t this: using Lucas’ binoculars to spy on Steve Harrington as he climbs out the window of the Munson trailer. (recovering in the aftermath of Vecna's attack, Max is stuck at home. Somehow, spying on Eddie Munson has become her number 1 hobby.)

let's do the time (loop) again - alchemystique (34k)

“Did you, uh… did you sing to me, once?” Eddie asks, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car and staring up at the sky so he doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t desperate for everything promised in the eyes that haven’t left Eddie since Eddie woke up in that hospital bed. It’s just – Time loops, and the King of Hawkins High going back over and over and over again just to stop Eddie Munson from dying, and – “Fuck,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t remember, but there’s a song that won’t leave his head, and the voice is soft and warm just like the way Steve smiles at him and – “I didn’t think you remembered any of it.” --- Eddie died in a time loop a hundred times and all Steve got was this tee-shirt.

You're the Driver, You're the Road - stereobone (8k)

Eddie meant it when he said once he graduated, he was getting the hell out of Hawkins. He just didn't realize that Steve was going to keep showing up.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you - @greatunironic (34k)

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?” Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

Waiting Room - @kissmejusttokiss (55k)

Sometimes, Eddie thinks they should have left him in the Upside Down. But people are happy that he’s alive. Or, at least, that’s what they keep telling him. Dustin follows him around like letting Eddie out of his sight will bring about the second coming of hell. Constantly asking if he’s OK, never taking yes for an answer. The other kids do the same, lingering and worrying, but with a softer approach. Robin calls him every day and he gets used to her impromptu visits even if sometimes he doesn’t manage to get a word in edgewise. And Steve… Steve is an enigma wrapped in an atrociously good-looking riddle. Eddie navigates the aftermath of surviving the final battle and tries his best not to lose the only good thing to ever happen to him. (Even if that means making a deal with the devil.) sequel to 'i can't save us, my Atlantis'

sir stephen strider finds his suzie - @lesbianrobin (5k)

Dustin watches Eddie's face as everyone else giggles. He's retained his typical intimidating smirk for much of this encounter, but as Steve stumbles through his fictional seduction, Eddie's eyes soften. His smirk slowly turns to a small grin. “Didn't Wizard Romeo and Juliet both die?” he asks, in that same low, grumbly voice he always loves to use for big scary bad guys. The effect is jarring. “Well, yes, but… they loved each other first,” Steve says, oddly sincere. “I think love is worth the risk. Wouldn't you agree? And then, uh, I'm gonna take off my helmet and, like—” Steve tosses his hair, shaking it out dramatically and running a hand through it afterward to fix any wayward strands. "Ew,” Mike says. Nancy presses a hand over her mouth, but it does nothing to hide her smile. Usually, this is the point where Eddie would make them all roll initiative. Dustin has his D20 ready. But Eddie smiles. Eddie fucking smiles, and not in that maniacal way he does before siccing something horrific on them, he fucking beams, and says, "You're gonna scrape your neck on his mace doing that, just so you know."