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syluss-karaoke-teacher · 2 days ago

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Love and Deepspace - Nightly Rendezvous - Part III, Rafayel

Third part is up!! Rafayel and Sylus are my main boos, and I absolutely adored Intertidal Zone and the sensuality of it. This (and Sylus' upcoming one) were written wholly after the cards had dropped, so it's more faithful to the card's plot, but still with my own interpretation and imagination sprinkled in hehe.

Word count: 2248 words

MDNI! Tags and main text under the cut. You have been warned.

NOTE: This fic is only posted on tumblr and on AO3 under the pseud Yuli_Hunter. All other uploads on any other websites are non-authorized. I do not own any part of Love and Deepspace as an IP, but I do own this piece of fanfiction, and you are not allowed to repost it, copy it or otherwise claim it as your own.

That's it, enjoy! ❤️

Tags: reader!MC, fem!reader, PWP, fingering and oral (f!receiving), PIV, what do you mean I'm starting to repeat myself with these tags?

Not beta-read we die like Grandma

~*~*~

The bathroom is quiet, and the water in the tub is warm. After the blazing desert sun you thought you would never want to feel warm again, but the sudden snowfall, along with having to leave Rafayel to his own devices, reversed those thoughts. You sigh and lean your head back against the edge of the bathtub. You are not quite sure how long you have been here. After you woke up in the hotel parking lot the rest of the evening has been a blur. Your thoughts have been occupied by Rafayel so completely that at times you could have sworn you heard his voice in the empty room. The look he gave you before you left… You are sure you could spend an eternity gazing into the beautiful nebulae of his eyes and still not unveil all the mysteries hidden there. Today you would have wanted nothing more than to envelope him in your love so completely that you could have erased whatever sorrow held him captive. Alas…

You shift in place and the water splashes higher on your chest. The goosebumps it causes makes you realize how lukewarm the water has turned. You see that the falling snow has piled up on the windowsill, and decide it’s finally time to leave. But to do what?

You dry yourself with a towel and wrap it around yourself as you step into the bedroom. As you circle the room aimlessly you spot your black cocktail dress from the first night of your trip. It’s laying on the backrest of an armchair, carelessly tossed there after, well… You had tried to make Rafayel feel better on your first night here. You blush a little as you inspect the garment. It’s the only fancier dress you have with you for the trip, and you could have worn it to the art salon as well if not for Rafayel’s insistence to go alone. Seeing that he is yet to come back, your options are either to wrap yourself into a bathrobe, order room service and watch a movie all by your lonesome or use the opportunity to dress nicely for your own sake and eat dinner at the wonderful hotel restaurant. You turn the dress around for a moment longer before making up your mind.

Your push-up bra hangs discarded on the armchair along with the dress, and you slowly ease it and the dress over your still damp skin. Afterwards you go looking for a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, only to realize that your suitcase isn’t in the walk-in closet where you left it. You frown at the row of men’s shirts hung up in there and idly wonder how Rafayel has packed so much again that he feels the need to spread his outfits into your room too. It wouldn’t surprise you to find his paintbrushes in your makeup box next.

The suitcase isn’t in the bedroom either and at this point your tired brain starts to catch up. You go into the bathroom and stare at the vanity table. Cologne, a silver razor with shaving cream, hair mousse…

“Oh.” No wonder you only found this one dress and bra in the room.

Suddenly there are noises coming from the front door, and you walk towards them without a second thought. As you are almost out of the bedroom you come face to face with Rafayel.

His eyes are upon your face instantly. Before you have a chance to react, he grabs you by your wrist and waist and swirls you around to lean against the wall. He buries his face into your neck, sighing deeply and laying kisses onto your heated skin.

“Rafayel… what are you doing here?” you managed to ask as your mind threatens to go hazy again. You don’t seem to be faring that much better than Rafayel was earlier.

Rafayel pulls back for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, yet the heat in his gaze is enough to make your stomach flip. He pushes his thigh between your legs, and instinctively you grind against it. The action reminds you of your missing underwear and causes a shiver to run along your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and a small sigh escapes your lips.

That seems to flick a switch in Rafayel, who surges forward with a groan and captures your lips in a searing kiss. It’s demanding yet gentle; it forces every thought, every last shred of your attention onto him. Rafayel circles his arm more tightly around your waist, pulling you fully against his thigh. With his other hand he cradles the back of your head as he licks your lips to ask for entrance.

You were never good at poetry, but for Rafayel you will have to learn some day: there are no ordinary words to describe what he does to you. Only a few moments of kissing and you are left feeling like a teenager again, thighs trembling with need and lungs begging for oxygen as your lover pulls back to admire his work.

“Wh…what are you doing here Rafayel?” you try again, and when Rafayel still won’t answer, you playfully bite his lower lip as he leans in for another kiss. Rafayel groans at the feeling and pushes his hips flush against you. He is rock hard, and it makes you feel a little bit better about your sorry state.

“This is my room. You came in here, not the other way around,” he finally murmurs. He runs a slender finger over his bruised lip before laying his hand on your chest. Slowly he lets his fingers slide down the black fabric of your dress as his eyes are fixed upon yours. Your breath hitches as he reaches the hem of the short skirt and grabs it, then pushes it upwards until your naked pussy is exposed.

“What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at the even—tahhhh—” your question ends in a moan as Rafayel’s fingertips brush against your slick entrance. He rubs against you with such faint touches that it drives you mad.

“Did you plan on leaving the room like this?” he asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice, and pointedly ignores your own question. You feel yourself clenching over nothing and end up grinding down on Rafayel’s hand. He lets out a playful tsk and releases your cunt before reaching for the zipper of your dress. Once unzipped it takes only a few tugs to undress you and leave you clad in just the push-up bra.

With a pleased hum Rafayel leans down to kiss your breasts as he returns his hand to your core. He cups your sex and slides his index and middle finger inside you. He starts to slowly pump into you as he nuzzles your cleavage that’s rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts.

After leaving a mark of blossoming red onto your left breast Rafayel lifts his head with a lazy smirk. He brings his other hand to your face and presses his thumb in, sliding it back and forth a bit for you to get the gist. Your eyes widen and you whine pitifully before starting to bob the digit in your mouth, wetting it at the same speed he is doing to your cunt.

Rafayel’s eyes are almost black now with how wide his pupils have blown up. His mouth hangs ajar as he uses both of his hands to fill you. The fingers inside you curl against your g-spot and you moan around his thumb. You bring your own hand to circle your clit as you brace yourself for your impending orgasm. Rafayel grasps your chin, forces you to look only at him. You feel yourself racing closer—

Ding-ding!

The intercom on the wall near you suddenly bursts into life. You squeeze your eyes shut, and hear Rafayel cursing softly.

You have a call waiting!

It’s a small wonder Rafayel doesn’t use his Evol to blow up the offending device. The call signal rings again, and you slip Rafayel’s thumb out of your mouth.

“You should answer. It could be important.”

Rafayel turns back to you, and you look at him with the most innocent expression you can muster. You lick your lips and clench around his fingers. Your slick has dripped down to his wrist by now, and you are still infuriatingly close to your orgasm. The blazing annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes is nothing but a turn-on at this point.

Rafayel grits his teeth and pushes the ‘accept call’ button harshly. The intercom crackles to life, and an unknown male voice starts to talk. Rafayel’s hand slips out of you, and it makes you panic for a full two seconds.

“I am busy,” Rafayel barks at the intercom before grabbing your hips with his hands and hoisting you up into his arms. He crosses the short distance to the bed and sits you down onto it, crawling between your legs as the man on the call still asks him questions. You manage to hear the words ‘salon’ and ‘early’, before Rafayel rolls his eyes and dives his head down. You can only hope his friend doesn’t hear the sound you make as Rafayel goes down on you.

Strong hands hold your hips down as Rafayel brings you back to the precipice. His tongue is hot and heavy against your folds and he moans around you like a man starving. You grab his purple hair a bit too forcefully, but that only makes him more determined to please you. It isn’t long before you are bucking your hips futilely in his grasp.

“Raf, I’m so close, I’m—” you try to warn him, but Rafayel merely hums and pushes his tongue into you. Then you are tumbling over the edge, cumming straight into his awaiting mouth.

You chant Rafayel’s name like a prayer as he eases you through the aftershocks. His hands massage your hips, and he kisses the shivering skin of your inner thighs.

As you come to your senses you look at his beautiful visage between your thighs. He stands up slowly from the bed while pressing light kisses up your leg. With a final kiss on your toes he lays your heel on his shoulder and brings his hands to his belt buckle. You lick your lips as he slowly undoes his belt: something about the sure movements of his hands mesmerizes you. Rafayel toes off his shoes and pushes his pants and underwear down. As he does his cock spring free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of it is flushed angry red and slick with precum. Rafayel hisses and brings his hand down to stroke himself. Despite having just come you feel your arousal simmering to life again as you watch Rafayel pleasure himself. You arch your back to unhook your bra, which has grown uncomfortable, and then move your free leg behind Rafayel’s backside to gently coax him forward.

“Please Raf, my love,” you whisper hoarsely, and hear his breath hitch in response, “I need you.”

You see Rafayel’s chest glow red above his heart. He crawls onto the bed, kneels between your still spread legs and lifts your hips up and over to his lap. He nestles his aching cock between your folds, rubbing up and down as he leans over you.

“That’s my line,” he murmurs and captures your lips into a soft kiss. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sharp intrusion as he suddenly pushes in and buries himself almost to the hilt into your pulsating heat. You moan into the kiss and claw his back as he rocks back and forth. The air between you is hot and heavy. You feel like choking on nothing, and Rafayel steals what little oxygen there is with his kisses. You can do nothing but hold onto him as he sets the pace.

You are a sweaty mess: your hair sticking to your forehead, and you are sure that your face is as red as Rafayel’s dress shirt. Yet, when he pulls back enough to lay his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes, pure beauty is reflected in them. You can’t turn away, not even with the risk of drowning.

Rafayel turns louder the closer he is. His gasps, groans and whimpers tumble out of his mouth as he quickens his thrusts. He changes his angle ever so slightly until your voice matches his, and when he feels you tightening around his cock, he releases your hip to help you along with his fingers.

“Sing for me, cutie,” he pleads. And when have you been able to deny him anything? You come apart around him, your whines high-pitched and your back arched off the mattress. Splendid colors flash behind your closed eyelids as your orgasm coaxes Rafayel over the edge with you. As he stills inside you so do his moans, and in that silence you swear you can feel him coming straight into your womb with how deep he holds you in place.

You lay like that for a while, Rafayel still inside you, running his hand through your hair as he searches your eyes for an answer to a question you didn’t know needed an answer. He kisses the palm of your hand and the tips of your fingers, and you smile up at him.

“As long as you need. As much as you want.”

So he does.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #yuli writes #smut #rafayel smut #fanfiction #lnds fanfiction #lnds fanfic #lnds smut

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 days ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @gayjinkies! gayjinkies has 7 fics posted on AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @Gayjinkies:

I’m a lover, boy

lover, you can’t be wrong

heartbeat (increasing heartbeat)

any solitary pleasure

Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs?

"Their writing is absolutely masterpiece. I LOVE their characterisation of Steddie!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @gayjinkies answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started reading Steddie during a really weird and stressful time in my life. I’d be reading literally the entire night through for months on end. Reading about these dumbass boys was one of the only ways to escape for a while. When my day-to-day chilled out a bit, I figured I may as well give writing a go, since I’d read, I swear to god, hundreds of fics by that point. I immediately fell in love with thinking up the most idiotic, goofy situations to plop Steve and Eddie into. I’m also a sucker for enemies-to-lovers dialogue and the possibilities are endless with these two. There’s so much potential chemistry and tension and canonically unexplored backstories which makes it so much fun to write!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I don’t think I have an all-time favourite! One of my favourites is friends-to-enemies-to-lovers because ohhh the layers…the betrayal…the yearning… I also love reading hidden identity fics, I eat them up so damn quick. And then the usual suspects: forced proximity, miscommunication, requited-unrequited, fake dating, only one bed. Honestly I could list so many that I love with my entire heart.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I’m not sure if Crack counts as a trope?? If so, then that for sure. The more absurd the better, in my book. I love taking the most ridiculous situation I can think of and trying to write it believably enough that readers could think, “huh, yeah, I can see this happening. This makes sense for these two.” Apart from that, I love writing miscommunication. It’s so much FUN, and as I’m typing it I’ll be shaking my head, clicking my tongue, muttering, “if only you guys just talked…” and then not allowing them to properly talk for another 10k words.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such an impossible question, there’s no way I could pick just one out of so many absolute bangers 🤚 blipblot’s A Lick and a Promise is phenomenal and I’ll shout it from the rooftops (I’ll shout about literally all of their fics from the rooftops, they’re just so spectacular) I’m reading Big Talk by occasional_loverboy which is SO FUCKING GOOD. let’s exchange the experience by jamiethegardener is an absolute favourite. Vulture by GriefAbyss is currently and very actively consuming my thoughts. throw me one by Adure is one of the first Steddie fics I fell in love with right at the start and it’s one of my all-time favourites.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Ohhhhh so many. I would love to write a secret identity fic and a fake dating fic, and I’ve got ideas bouncing around my head for both of those. They’ll get written eventually!! I also haven’t really written slow burn yet because I love instant gratification with ensuing angst and drama, but I would love to try my hand at it!

What is your writing process like?

Controversial, maybe! I can’t write any scene without having written the scene before, everything is written sequentially. I don’t plan or draft at all, so scenes just develop as I’m writing, which makes it impossible to jump ahead in the plot and write because the story changes every time I sit down to write more. It also means that if I get stuck on one particular scene, the entire fic grinds to a screeching halt until I figure a single line of dialogue out 🫠 So it’s slow going a lot of the time! I also don’t really edit apart from checking my spelling and grammar, so not much is left on the cutting room floor! Also, I only write while blasting pink noise through my headphones. I sometimes have music playing in the same room but the pink noise stays on the entire time.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m not sure!!! Probably using way too many em dashes, which I say hesitantly for fear of people reading my shit and noticing my overuse 😬 I also recycle specific phrases all the time, which are usually ones that I use in my day-to-day as well. They just seem to snake their way into each and every fic.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve discovered that I really do need to have finished writing before starting to post, otherwise there’s a chance it won’t be updated for months as my focus jumps to other projects.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I’m really proud of set my wings on fire. It was my quickest turnaround time from idea conception to finished product, and it’s also the only fic I’ve written that’s just one scene. I also experimented more with structure and writing style with that one. It’s the most love I’ve ever put into a fic and the most fun I’ve had writing so it’s very special to me.

How did you get the idea for any solitary pleasure?

Ahhh, my stink kink fic. Not to put my friend on blast, but they were chatting with me about a guy they’d hooked up with who had a cologne collection totalling over $10,000. When I asked my friend if the guy smelled good, they replied that they didn’t really know, they prefer natural musk and sweat over fancy colognes. I heard that, immediately thought, “sounds like a certain someone…” and knew I had to thrust a scent kink upon Eddie.

When writing heartbeat (increasing heartbeat), what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect how difficult it would be to orchestrate a phone sex scene! I think dirty talk is one of my weaker areas in writing, so not being able to fall back on action descriptions when it came to Steve and Eddie’s interactions was hard. I’m a big fan of non-verbal communication and not having that as an option was definitely challenging.

What inspired I’m a lover, boy?

I don’t think there was any particular inspiration! The plot for I’m a lover, boy literally popped into my head fully formed one day, and I spent a bit of time just kicking it around before writing it all down.

What was your favorite part to write from lover, you can’t be wrong?

I love writing Steve & Robin scenes, and lover, you can’t be wrong is riddled with them. I’d never written anything from Steve’s POV before and exploring their friendship has been so lovely. Their conversations flow and I love that for both them and me.

How do/did you feel writing Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs??

Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs was the first Steddie fic I wrote, after having not written creatively for years. It was written after a solid few months of sleep-deprivation and stress and I don’t really remember much about how I felt while writing it! I think for a while I was very sure I was never going to post it, so I didn’t care about whether it was actually quality writing or not, which was freeing!! It was a good stepping stone to getting back into writing because it was a zero-pressure experience.

What was the most difficult part of writing Are You Sending Out Your Love Signs??

Probably literally just starting it!! I hadn’t written creatively since high school, and I hadn’t really been good at it then, so I was 100% convinced I wouldn’t be able to do it. Most of my experience is in writing research studies, so it was hard to push past that and embrace flowery, fun fiction writing.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In my most recent fic, call my bluff when I roll the dice, there’s a scene where Eddie accidentally humiliates Steve regarding the size of his dick, and I had SO much fun writing it. The entire fic was built around that scene that I’d had in my head for ages. I love writing emotionally-driven dialogue and also Very Silly dialogue, so that was such a fun one to write.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a bunch of WIPs and even more ideas that haven’t been put on paper yet! I’ve got a long-form fic half written that I’m very excited about which I refuse to start posting until I’ve finished it, but it’s in the works! I’ve also got a third of a gloryhole fic written which I’m also keen to finish and post. Apart from them, I’ve got a bunch of crack ideas that I’m very sure will be posted in the near future!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I wanted to thank steddieunderdogfics for everything that you do 💖 big love to you guys!!!

Thank you to our author, @gayjinkies, and our nominator! See more of gayjinkies' works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics

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autisticlenaluthor · 2 hours ago

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i broke it down even more because i’m autistic and love numbers

and i’m abbreviating “autistic lena luthor” to ALL for the sake of this post

18/35 of the ALL fics are *multi-chapter -> of these 18 fics, i’ve written 10. that makes me responsible for 55% of the multi chapter ALL fics on ao3

the remaining 17 of these are oneshots. i’ve written 3 of these -> which is 8.5% of the 35 & 17.6% of the 17

now for some other stats:

62% of ALL fics include the “hurt/comfort” tag

54% of fics that include both the “ALL” and “hurt/comfort” tags are mine

the first ever ALL fic was posted on august 15, 2017.

the most recently updated fic in the ALL tag was by me, on january 2, 2025

the most recently posted new ALL fic was posted december 19, 2024

22% of the total ALL fics have a taylor swift lyric for a title

*by multi chapter, i’m including fics with only 1 chapter uploaded- as long as they’re WIPS labeled as being more than one chapter total

i did the math and i have written 37% of the fics tagged “autistic lena luthor” on ao3.

anyways if you’re autistic and like lena luthor, you should check out ao3 user scrappylittlegleek (me)

#autistic lena luthor #autistic behavior by tumblr user autistic lena luthor #the 22% for the taylor lyric thing is most definitely skewed by the fact that most of those fics are mine #bc taylor is my (other) special interest #so i may need to break it down further #either excluding my fics #or only using a small sample size of my fics #that is more on par with the number of fics other ALL authors have published

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yellowocaballero · 1 year ago

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dude psyched ur reading orv, insanely curious about ur takes

My friend @charterandbarter put it best.

ORV is pretty fascinating to me. It's really just a self-insert isekai OP webnovel, and it is nothing else. Its medium is trashy and lowbrow, and its genre is almost devoid of high art. OP isekais are 'id' stories, meant to be satisfying and fun and contain very little of substance. ORV is a very well executed OP isekai - it contains the elements of the genre that make it satisfying, it understands why people read the genre and enjoy it, it reproduces those elements very well, and it is very concerned with telling an enjoyable story. ORV really, really loves webnovels and isekais and shitty wishfuillment stories. There's a lot more to ORV than the 'fist pump' moments of kdj doing something cool or pulling a fast one on a shmuck, but those moments are the undoubtedly the point of ORV, as they are the point of all SIOC isekai OP webnovels. And that's the point of ORV.

Metanarrative stories are cheap. Neil Gaiman's written 30 and millenials love waxing philosophical about the power of narratives. These metanarratives tend to describe stories as a theoretical framework through which we understand the world and our lives. Therefore, stories are tremendously important and valuable because they contain the totality of religion, history, culture, relationships, and lives. ORV says this too. But this theory tends to land at mystifying and exalting stories on virtue of them being stories, which I think misses the point. Stories aren't special because they're stories. They're not more sacred for containing our lives. What ORV says is that stories are important, because our lives are important. I like that a lot more.

ORV says that stories are our way of ordering a disordered world. A history, culture, nation, and religion are stories. None of those stories are true or real, because histories/cultures/nations/religions are constructs - they're how we interface with reality. They're created with a purpose, told for a point, pulled together into a narrative, and are satisfying or dissatisfying based on certain factors. ORV's perspective on fiction is deeply seeped in its own nature as 'low art'. There's something very cynical and commercialized about narratives in ORV, and every narrative in ORV is being told for a quick buck or to try and spread an idea for an individual's gains. It's a very unromantic, unimpressed view of narratives and fiction. It's pretty much the only way a SIOC OP isekai webnovel like ORV can talk about it without being disingenuous. And it's remarkably raw and visceral as a result, because ORV loves SIOC OP isekai webnovels like kdj loves yjh. Fiercely, insanely, like breathing, exactly for what it is. No pretensions.

It's bizarre, because ORV is about love. It's not about love for anything that deserves it. Not for a story with a lot of literary merit, a main character who is a remotely kind or lovable person, or art itself outside of its commercial or philosophical value. kdj really, really, really fucked loved TWS - because it was there, and because it lasted 15 years, and because it was fake, and because it was what he had. He loves yjh because yjh was his only companion in a dark world. That's fiction. Fiction helped him survive, because love is a way of ordering a disordered world.

I'm still reading myself, but ORV seems to be about how we manage to live in a hard world, and how to find it within ourselves to love each other and find meaning in that hard world. I see why kdj's the protagonist: he can find merit in something for existing, and loving it for being there, and he holds onto something because he has it. He sees the value in that. He read it in a book.

TL;DR: ORV is well-executed trashy commercialized art that is so obsessed with trashy commercialized art that it's looped straight back around into being somehow the most raw and visceral depiction of love I've seen in a long time.

#wish i could lie to myself and say that yall aint getting orv fic but :/#my asks #I don't know what it'd be about but it'd be written under a heavy burden #of having to write the most insane thing physically possible #writing boring orv fic is a sin and baby the fucking ao3 tag is tartarus #hey why do i have to type kdj and yjh #why can't i just say dokja or joonghyuk #why are we full naming everybody at all times #this is the only webnovel i've ever read and its a big learning curve for me

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copia · 3 months ago

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Cool Cat 🔞 — 3.5k, copia/aurora, temperature play, blowjobs, copia's eternally overheating balls — more tags on ao3

She’d made her excuses to the concerned Ghouls—some of whom knew the plan, all of whom would hear the full tale later that night—and left to fetch the last few ice cubes the building had to offer. The rest, of course, had gone down her Papa’s pants. Copia pulls his signature move. Aurora decides she can do one better.

for ghostober by @kroas-adtam — day 3: temperature play

#HEY CAN I INTEREST U IN UHHH #THE FIRST KINKTOBER FILL...... MANY DAYS LATE #i am so nervous #this isn't the first thing i've written but it is what will link my tumblr to ao3 for the first time #there's normal stuff on there. it's so cool and normal #only vanilla sex #in fact i don't even know what sex is #i have written nothing odd or extreme whatsoever and certainly no other fluids involved #shhhhhhhhh trust me #user copia all tag #user copia fic #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #aurora ghoulette #ghostober 2024 #(hello to the op of the ghostober prompts feel free to ignore this i'm just tagging for credit)

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stellewriites · 1 month ago

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thanks for the tags @dwarvenagenda & @pricegouge !! 💓

it was fun to check my stats for this year :3

funny to compare how i started my year vs how its ending (fandoms im writing for, fic length range, themes and tropes i’m preferring, etc).

i’ve found that although ive maybe written less and had less interaction in general from readers this year i’ve truly found some amazing people that i consider good friends on here now :’) and i wouldn’t swap that for anything!!

blank copy below and npt: @pricetagged @ohlawdthebirds @sentientcave @syoddeye @gloard @wraithdance @buttdumplin @luvrodite @mikichko @lewistoferrari @disgustingtwitches

#very ironic that my top fic is inspired by the same tv show that my top spotify song came from too #like it truly took over my year apparently…#i’m trying not to push myself to suddenly go on a writing rampage bc i really wanted to hit 200k by the end of the year BUT #it’s meant to be fun not about hitting goals so this is teaching me restraint lmao #i know i’ll have written a lil bit more that’s just not posted on ao3 but not enough to make a difference #plus i had suuuuper bad writers block and a major confidence crisis mid year and i haven’t had that in a while before #i think having a community helps and is lovely in a way i’ve never experienced but it also made me feel like i had to compete (totally my #own feelings and anxiety at play. not at all anyone else putting on that pressure)#but it’s been a learning curve for me to try and just enjoy it and not focus on stats and churning out content - previously i’ve only ever #interacted with people through comments so i had quite a skewed view of ‘if i want to talk to people about this then i have to create to #get their attention.’ which isn’t true or healthy! but i know that now and im going my best not to fall back into bad habits #tag games #tag game

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shitouttabuck · 1 year ago

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Buddie unintentional cuddles can power me through a whole week, so the prompt 3. Person A waking up to Person B curled up and sleeping on top of them really spoke to me <3

hiya thank u frida and @colonoscopys for sendin this one in (and an anon too!!!) very much distracted me from my wisdom tooth woes. i need to add a disclaimer that this is NOT kink it’s just sleepy drunkenness please trust me lol (rated t even!!!! not horny!!!!!!! just unbelievably stupid!!!!)

bed-sharing prompts: person A waking up to person B curled up and sleeping on top of them

put on a slow dumb show for you | 2.2k | read under cut or on ao3

Buck wakes with the same unshiftable heaviness on his chest that he gets mid-panic attack. Except—his body is incredibly confused, because while the physical pressure is bearing down, making breathing a struggle, every other cell in his body is telling him the opposite: no reason to panic, he’s warm and swaddled and safer than he’s ever been.

His brain scrambles to organise this juxtaposition of sensations. The room is dark, and not unfamiliar, even if he’s spent the night in here less than a handful of times. Eddie’s digital alarm clock is blinking at him, and Eddie’s recently mounted décor of three framed photographs on the far wall is facing him, and Eddie’s entire fucking body is draped over Buck’s and crushing the breath out of him.

Oh. Okay. The second half of his cells were right, then—he’s safe. His heart can stop racing now. And it does, a bit.

But his brain keeps reaching for puzzle pieces, laying them out for assessment before him. His mouth tastes like he licked the bottom of a public trash can, and there’s a sharp twinge behind his temple, and he feels more than a little nauseous.

That’ll be the last five tequila shots Ravi pressed into his hands pre-karaoke. Eddie’d just stumbled off stage, arm-in-arm with Karen, fresh off a You’re Still The One duet that had Karen sniffling half-way through and making grabby-hands at an amused but equally-smitten Hen. Buck had only enough time to whoop as Eddie curtsied dramatically before they were calling his name.

Buck’s good at a lot of things, but singing is not one of them. He’d whined and stammered and straight-up crawled under the table before Ravi, sweet, evil Ravi, had ducked down to join him with a tray of shots. After that is—a bit of a blur, to be honest. There was some Carly Rae Jepsen, maybe? He remembers sliding back into their booth next to Eddie and watching the rest of their friends be disgustingly romantic.

That, coupled with the best friend he’s a little unbearably in love with singing the most hopeful love song ever written, is just a recipe for Buck’s heart to get a little messy. And maybe it made him bolder with his affection than usual? Clingier, anyway. He must’ve been pretty needy for Eddie to let him crash in his bed. But Eddie’s always making sure Buck has what he needs, so that isn’t anything new. And Eddie must’ve been pretty wasted too, if this total lack of personal space is any indication.

Buck doesn’t think Eddie’ll mind waking up like this—a perk of having a physically affectionate straight best friend is that he’s mostly oblivious to a classic no homo situation. He breathes deep, weight on top of him grounding instead of suffocating, lets himself tentatively wrap an arm around Eddie to hold him steady as his chest rises with the depth of his inhale, and closes his eyes again.

Except Eddie snuffles and shifts and then jams his knee directly into Buck’s bladder. After the drinks he put away tonight? Buck’s dangerously full bladder.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, desperately trying to shift Eddie to the side. “Oh—fuck.” He clenches—everything, really, because he’s too old to wet the bed and too fond of the life he has to wet Eddie’s bed, as the aftermath of that really only involves fleeing the country.

In the end, fear of that outweighs any qualms he has about waking a peacefully slumbering Eddie, and he all but shoves him off, gasping a breath of relief when Eddie’s weight shifts from his bladder to his thighs.

“Whu—what?” Eddie slurs, scrambling up with a pinched expression. “Buck? What’s wrong?” He sits up clumsily, straddling Buck’s thighs.

“Nothing,” Buck says, voice strained. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—really need to piss. And…” He gestures uselessly between them, face contorted in apology.

“Oh,” Eddie frowns. “Okay. Cool.”

“Cool,” Buck echoes, feeling hysterical. “Um, I’m gonna…” He tries to tug his legs free from under Eddie and Eddie clambers off obligingly.

Buck swings himself out of bed and hurries down the hall to the bathroom, cursing himself for everything from waking Eddie to ruining what could’ve been the cuddle session of his dreams to going and fucking falling in love with his best friend in the first place.

He lets the door swing shut behind him and absentmindedly lifts the toilet seat, shoving a hand into his boxers and then just about leaping a foot in the air when the door squeaks open again and Eddie shuffles over to stand behind him, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.

“Um,” Buck says, feeling dizzy for reasons that are only partly alcohol related. “Uh.”

“D’you need a hand?” Eddie asks sleepily.

Buck laughs nervously, frozen facing the wall with his hand down his boxers. “Uh. What?”

Eddie yawns, muffling the back-half of it into Buck’s shoulder and crowding closer, plastering himself along Buck’s back. Does Buck have alcohol poisoning? Is this the tequila version of an absinthe hallucination?

“D’you need me to hold it?” Eddie clarifies, nuzzling Buck’s shoulder gently.

Buck chokes on his own spit, body buckling as he pulls his hand out his underwear to thump his own chest. No, he skipped straight past the alcohol poisoning, he’s dead, not even a coma could dream this up.

Eddie steps back, frowning in concern when Buck finally spins to face him, eyes wide. His whole body is taut, stark contrast to the sleepy slump of Eddie’s shoulders.

“Do I—what?” he manages.

“Sorry, I wasn’t, like, trying to baby you,” Eddie says, looking unsure. “But after earlier—”

“Earlier,” Buck echoes. Eddie’s gaze has dropped to south of Buck’s navel, where his boxers have rucked up enough to leave a considerable amount of his happy trail on display. He yanks the waistband up quickly, and Eddie’s head snaps up too, cheeks dusted pink. Then his face, his perfect, beautiful face, falls.

“Wait, Buck—do you not remember? After karaoke?” he asks, taking a step back. “Oh, I—I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“I wasn’t,” Buck insists, racking his brain, and oh.

The tequila-soaked memory swims up, Buck desperate for the toilet and stubborn about being able to get there himself, despite tripping over his stupid Bambi legs not two steps from their table. Eddie laughing and slinging an arm around him, half-carrying him to the men’s room. Buck standing in front of the urinal, frowning and arms flopping helplessly at his sides.

“Eddie,” he’d whined. “My hands aren’t working.”

Eddie’d laughed again, fond and warm, and asked if he wanted to sit in a stall.

“No,” Buck had pouted. “My zip…” He’d turned to Eddie, lopsided grin and beseeching eyes, and Eddie’d shaken his head and come to stand behind him. He’d undone Buck’s zipper and asked, “Alright?” and Buck had pouted some more.

“Can you help?” he’d asked, mortifyingly pathetic. Eddie’d raised an eyebrow and snorted, and then Buck had said, “Eddieee. These are my nice jeans. My hands don’t work. Your hands are perfect.”

Eddie’d muttered, “Might as well happen like this,” and slipped a hand into Buck’s jeans and—ah. Held his dick while he peed.

“Oh,” Buck says now, voice small. “Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, somewhat blearily. “Why? I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I know—I don’t think we’re on the same page. I don’t—” Buck closes his eyes and presses the heels of his palms into them. “I don’t think it meant the same thing for us.”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face is suddenly unreadable. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes another step back. Buck wants to cry. He basically tricked his best friend into touching him—doesn’t matter if Eddie did it platonically, because drunk or not, genuinely needing help to piss or not, Buck’s pretty sure his own intentions were not all that innocent.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” he says. “I was drunk as hell—that’s not an excuse, but it won’t happen again. I—I’ll be better at keeping it to myself. The last thing I ever want is to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

Something passes over Eddie’s face. “Wait,” he says slowly, “you asked me to hold your dick as friends?” There’s an uncertain lilt to the question, like he truly doesn’t know what the answer is anymore.

“Uh,” Buck says. He could use the confusion to wrestle the cat back into the bag and then ship said bag one-way to Nicaragua, but Eddie’s looking a little lost, arms crossed in his black vest and boxers and mismatched socks. Buck can’t be the cause of that. “No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I swear I wasn’t trying to trick you. I was just really drunk.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, stepping forward again and reaching out to tug Buck in by the hem of his t-shirt. “What’s the problem then?” He slides a warm hand under Buck’s shirt, smoothing it across his skin.

Buck inhales sharply, blood rushing to his brain and cheeks and cock so quickly he reaches for the porcelain toilet tank behind him to steady himself. “W-wait. Were you holding my dick as friends?”

Eddie blinks at him, disbelief slowly overtaking the slack sleepiness of his facial muscles. “You thought—is that generally something your friends do for you?”

“No, but…” Buck falters. “Why—why did you, then? Why else would you…”

“I was holding your dick because I want to kiss it,” Eddie snaps, and then claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. “I want to kiss you,” he amends. “You, not your—I mean, sure, that too, but. Can you say something.”

The many million times Buck has daydreamed and fantasised and wished for this, he’s never anticipated fuzzy patches in his memory of it. But these things are clear: waking up with Eddie plastered to him like he wants to touch Buck at every possible point, Eddie following him in here unprompted and pressing up against him with unchecked affection, because even in his sleepy state Eddie just wants to make sure Buck has what he needs, even if what he needs is help holding his dick in a context that’s soft and sleepy and miles from sexual.

“You came in here to hold my dick,” he says, grin spreading.

Eddie’s cheeks are so rosy, rosier than they’d been with the flush of alcohol, even. “I came in here because I didn’t want your uncoordinated drunk ass pissing all over my bathroom.”

“Aw, Eds, you romantic,” Buck says, stepping closer. Eddie sighs exasperatedly, tilting his face up expectantly anyway. But, oh—

“Did we kiss already?” Buck asks, heart dropping. “Do I not remember?”

Eddie brings up one large palm to rub Buck’s sternum gently. “Nah. Didn’t seem like the right time. I kinda—I wanted to do that not-drunk.”

“Oh,” Buck says, sagging with relief. “Good.” Eddie gives him a sleepy, wonky smile, and Buck says, “I’m not drunk now.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, stepping back and patting Buck’s chest. “Nope, just hungover and harbouring the most toxic tequila-flavoured morning breath anyone’s ever had.”

“Don’t forget desperate to pee,” Buck grins. “You gonna help a guy out?” He flaps his arms limply, batting his lashes at Eddie.

Eddie grumbles unintelligibly, lips twitching with amusement as he bodily rearranges Buck to face the toilet again. Buck melts back into the cradle of his arms, safe and sleepy and sated enough that his dick doesn’t do any more than he needs it to right now, even with Eddie’s warm hand wrapped around it.

They stumble back to bed, Buck belatedly remembering he’s not washed his hands but deciding not to care if Eddie doesn’t, and when Buck flops down, Eddie’s right back on top of him.

Buck wheezes as the breath’s punched out of his lungs, and it becomes a laugh, and this time he wraps both arms firmly around Eddie to hold him tight. Eddie exhales into the crook of his neck, breath hot and a little gross, and then lifts his head to press a close-mouthed kiss to the corner of Buck’s lips.

“This one doesn’t count,” he murmurs against Buck’s cheek. “I just can’t believe you thought I wanted to hold your dick as friends, so. It’s an almost-kiss. An IOU. Tomorrow I’m gonna kiss you till one of us passes out. Not as friends.”

“As enemies,” Buck whispers solemnly and then grunts when Eddie digs an elbow into his ribs. “As anything you want, s’long as I can keep the kissing and the dick-holding and—this.” He tightens his arms around Eddie, feeling his chest reverberate against Buck’s as he laughs.

“Deal,” he agrees, nestling closer, messy hair getting in Buck’s mouth as he shifts. “But just so you know what I want—and I don’t mean to skip ahead—though I guess we’re doing the regular dating bases all out of order anyway—” He sighs, deep and satisfied as he gets comfortable, and says, “I’m ready to have and to dick-hold you every day of the week, you know?”

Buck didn’t know, but now he does, and in eleven months’ time when he and Eddie are saying these words in front of their friends and family, sans penis, not one single person can blame him for lurching forward and kissing the adoring smirk off Eddie’s face miles before poor ordained Bobby gives him the go-ahead. Doing true love in order is overrated, anyway.

#911 fic #buddie fic #this might be the silliest thing ive ever written im so sorry frida and rain #911 #buddie #i was gonna say i have no defense for this bc the only painkillers i’m on are ibuprofen and paracetamol #but turns out i’ve had a fever all afternoon so let’s conveniently blame cognitive impairment for whatever this is yeah #writing tag #im posting it to ao3 because its over 2k but like. perhaps it shouldnt be immortalised over there.#bed sharing prompts #mine

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