It’s a whirlwind romance from the moment Louis meets Chef Harry Styles. But when they start planning for their biggest event of the year, a New Years party for Selley Inc., Louis finds it harder to try to ignore the secrets Harry keeps. Especially when everything falls apart on Christmas Eve. Should Louis listen to his heart and trust Harry? Or is everything exactly as it seems?
The door will open and he’ll smile wide and genuine at the people who raised him, his teary-eyed mother and rosey-face step-father. He won’t think about the cabin in the woods again until next December.
We’ve all dreamt of getting locked in a shopping mall overnight, running around with no abandon. But what happens when you actually do get locked in one on the night of Christmas Eve? Oh, and just so you know, you’re not alone.
Or a tooth rotting fluff filled Christmas fic based on the prompt “Getting trapped in a shopping mall together during after-hours in which they were Christmas shopping too hard.”
Feat. an extremely generous and teddy bear hearted Harry Styles and a head over heels Louis Tomlinson.
summary: a note from steve leads to an unexpected confession
pairing: roommate!steve rogers x reader
word count: 1.2k
warnings: modern!au, mention of alcohol, brief mention of sex (kinda??), also brief mention of cancer, steve is a huge simp, reader is oblivious, cheesy confessions (bc that’s what i do best apparently), disappointing number of fridge notes despite the prompt, a flashback in italics
a/n: here is day 10 of my summer writing challenge with the prompt leaving cute notes for the other on the fridge and with this i am finally caught up (again) !! thanks to both kathie and my bf for proofreading this bc i simply did not want to. enjoy <3
Summary: With Bucky’s professional career taking off, you couldn’t be more proud. But the major leagues can open a lot of new doors for people, and you’re left wondering if what you have is still enough.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst, insecurities, ftlotg!bucky and his lovely simp self <3
a/n: This is a oneshot for my series ‘For the Love of the Game’, but it can be read by itself for some baseball bucky fluff :)
He had no idea who you were—that much became clear the second he plopped down in the seat beside yours and started talking about Bucky’s many admirers.
You hadn’t really expected the assistant manager to recognize you. With the new recruits only just joining the team, you were still a newbie in the stadium. And that was fine; you’d have plenty of time to get acquainted with everything in Bucky’s work-life as time went on.
Just not right now, and definitely not as some guy named Joe—as his name tag suggested—glanced down at your “Barnes” jersey and decided that you’d enjoy the inside scoop on the Dodgers’ newest pitcher.
Had to write something for this for dear jay; hope you enjoy, my friend!!
The familiarity of fighting alongside Sora is drowned out only by the aching memory of the way Sora had stared at him without any sense of recognition just moments before the fight itself had broken out. Riku fights almost on autopilot, his body moving with the ease of years of practice alone, completely disconnected from his mind. His mind, which is a maelstrom of fear, a cacophony of terror that everything he’s refused to believe is coming true in front of his eyes.
Sora, stripped of the memories of their friendship in his quest to save Kairi. It’s as damning a signal as any that his hopes have all been misplaced and ill-advised.
Seriously though, imagine this. You’re a random person in Quadratum and one day as you walk down the street you see THIS dude. Some anime-looking guy with the most bleached hair ever, in full motorcycle gear, sitting on this slick-looking motorcycle… and suddenly you look closer and you realize that there’s some edgy anger and devil theme on it. And then you get even closer and you realise that the whole bike is covered in Disney stickers. And this dude is scrolling through a phone with the goofiest case you’ve ever seen, also Disney themed. Some edge anime-looking teenager covered his motorcycle with Disney stickers. It’s a goddamn statement.
He also looks like he’s on a mission because he’s looking at that phone with the most intense look ever. Now you’re lowkey intimidated because you haven’t seen many people with this kind of energy in real life.
And then some black blobs show up. And you think your eyes are playing tricks on you but wait no they’re mini versions of that monster that showed up on the news the other day.
And the next moment there’s a burst of purple fire and they’re anihilated. And you turn to see where the hell THAT came from and… It’s the edgy Disney guy. Holding a MASSIVE key at the general direction of those things, not even bothering to look up from his phone, even more engaged in whatever he’s doing because he’s now typing furiously.
And the oversized magic key vanished in thin air with fairy sparkles. Because of course it does. And then he turns and looks at the crowd that’s staring at him in shock. Sighs and asks if this happens often. Somebody shows him that Insta video of that dumbass that didn’t run when the giant shadow Kaiju was attacking the city.
And suddenly this dude is glowing from happines, immedietely gets on the bike (no helmet because of course) and heads to the general direction of the area. Never mind it’s still quaranteed for safety reasons. He just fucking goes.
I need to put this in a fanfic. This reblog got way out of control.
“Peppy, he’s been telling me he loves me all this time. The apple blossoms, the tulips, the Austrian roses…”
Midwinter Mysteries by @prinzessineilis // E // 19K // Draco/Neville // pureblood courting rituals !!!! secret admirers, gifts and mystery, Hogwarts professors?! ALL THE YES.
Except, it was an arrangement of camellias, three by three. Three white as a sign that the sender thought he was attractive. Three in pink to show longing. Three in red for ardour. It was a perfectly ordinary, perfectly organised, perfectly traditional courting gift. A declaration of intention in the language of flowers.
A Love Languageby@signifiquint // M // 8K // Wolfstar // ugh I get all sappy when these two get the life and love they deserved, and this fic hit the nail on the head. so sweet, their little family is so perfect.
“Phlox. Ahem.” He paused, a blush spreading over his cheeks, despite Remus being unable to see his face. “ Our souls are united.” Sirius grasped around for Remus’ hand, twisting the bands he found on his ring finger around and around.
More recs (including some art & podfics) below the cut!
To the rest of the world, Lena is the lone atoning Luthor, and Supergirl her redeemer. And the only thing in the universe more potent than her fury at her ex-best friend is her drive to right the wrongs committed by her bloodline, so Lena lets them believe.
If that means she has to spend her days shoulder to shoulder with the woman who broke her heart, so be it. She’s learning, at least, to have a little fun with it along the way.
so the question becomes: what wouldn’t kara do for her?
chapter 1 of 3, mature, an alternate (hornier) take on lena’s s5 ‘villain arc’, one-sided enemies to convenient inconveniences to lovers
a.k.a. that winter holiday trope fic i’ve been talking about for 800 years is now up on A03!
-
Lena Luthor is going to die.
She’s going to die very soon and she’s going to do it right here on the road to god-knows-where, Colorado, her hands still clutching the wheel of this foul-smelling rental car, buried under five feet of snow for the remainder of the season until some fortunate family of possums digs her up in spring, probably. (Do they have possums in the mountains?)
But before she dies, she’s going to kill Sam Arias.
-
In which Lena Luthor hates the winter holidays, until her best friend lures her to her cabin in the mountains where she’s promptly held hostage by a very well-timed snowstorm and the irresistible charm of unexpected guest Kara Danvers. (But Lena will literally kill a man before admitting to that last part.)
i need a fanfic where Ed has Izzy teach the crew how to sword fight and Izzy has them all spar him one by one to gauge their levels and they’re all complaining that Izzy isn’t going easy on them and just using it as an excuse to rough them up
and Ed just laughs and goes “You think he isn’t going easy?” and grabs his own sword and Izzy gets that manic little look in his eyes as he settles into a fighting stance and everyone looks a little nervous because yeah Izzy is good but that’s Blackbeardand they think he wouldn’t kill Izzy but it’s never a 0% chance
and Ed barely gives Izzy a second to breathe before he’s launching at him and it’s. it’s almost not even a sword fight the way they glance off of each other and flow from one movement into the next. their feet and elbows constantly just miss each other in a confident way that comes from years of dancing with the same person and their swords never touch skin, only metal and leather. the dance, because that’s what it is, is so beautifully distracting that the crew doesn’t notice Edward is losing until his weapon hits the ground and Izzy has him backed up against the mast, sword tip against his throat
both men are panting in exertion but smiling at each other, open in a way the crew hasnt seen. of course it’s stede who breaks the moment, clapping and cheering them for “a marvelous show! truly, Izzy, you must teach us—“ and Izzy tenses up back into First Mate Izzy Hands again and goes right back to running them through drills like nothing happened
OP the grip you took on my mind with this post skjghkdfhjdfg
Mererid could tell by the set of the shoulders of his master that the Emperor was bored by the audiences he had to grant. It took until the last noble of the day for the Emperor to pull himself back together again. Or, well, at least sit up straight.
“The princess punched a man. Not slapped, punched!” The noble whined. Mererid had seen the incident. The Princess had been right, in his ever so humble opinion. “She also keeps showing her legs! And she shoved a man into an alcove and didn’t come out for minutes!”
Emhyr sighed deeply. It was probably taken to be disappointment in his daughter but Mererid knew it was more likely he was annoyed with the noble. “Which men? And I assume she still wears trousers when she shows her legs?”
The noble nodded, stilted. “Yes. Trousers. It’s improper.” He shook his head. “A princess should wear skirts. And cover her… womanly parts.” His eyes widened as he thought and realized something. “I don’t know who she punched, but the man in the alcove was General Voorhis.”
A/N:A few months ago, I teased that the dirtiest place Will has fucked you is movie night at Benny’s. Lots of people asked how that went down, so here ya go. :D
Pairing: William ‘Ironhead’ Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: 18 + NSFW - language, Explicit unprotected sex, having sex in front of others, dirty talk.
It’s been three days since you last fucked your boyfriend Will Miller, and it was starting to make you both antsy. The kisses he leaves you with in the morning have been causing you both to be late; the gentle touches that typically leave butterflies in your stomach have you aching to sink your nails into his skin and drag him to the bedroom. But instead, long hours and planning for a conference have you both on edge. It’s movie night tonight, and the urge to cancel and sink down on your boyfriend’s cock is strong. But as little as you’ve been able to see Will, it’s been weeks since you’ve seen the boys, and you know Will is looking forward to it.
He parks outside of Benny’s, and you grab the few pizzas you’d picked up and the container of brownies, Will coming around to take them out of your hands, always the gentleman. “Just a couple hours, baby,” he gives you a soft kiss, “then I’m fucking you into next week.”
Pairing:Dad!Will x Wife F!Reader; Dad!Will & Daughter OC (Lucy)
Plot:You try to soothe Lucy as she misses her daddy.
Contains:comfort
Lucy is inconsolable. You’ve tried everything. You’ve tried rocking her, distracting her with her favorite toys, snacks, the TV, but nothing is working. You’ve even tried showing her pictures and videos of Will which worked for all of fifteen minutes. Seeing his face and hearing his voice isn’t enough for her. She needs to be held by him.
okay but geralt after he and jaskier finally fess up to each other suddenly getting SO FLUSTERED AND SHY
FOR NO REASON. IT’S SO ANNOYING.
he and jask have shared baths before. he’s seen the bard naked a hundred times. BUT NOW THAT IS HIS LOVER. THAT IS HIS LOVER NAKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.
OH FUCK
OH GODS
LOOK AWAY LOOK AWAY LOOK AWAY
geralt wasn’t unaccustomed to the lusty looks. the quick glances from the corners of eyes; the quirk of upturned lips; the waft of the scent of wanting from across a bar.
he knew what the demands of his profession and the mutations that had made him suited for the work had done to his body. he knew what he looked like. for a self-satisfying number of people, he looked like sex in battered black leathers, and thats just what he gave those bold enough to ask.
jaskier had been different from the start. from posada. jaskier had looked at him, had wanted, then set his shoulders and asked him what he’d thought of the song. it was something… different. it wasnt that the wanting went away, for either of them, if geralt felt like being honest. it was that jaskier had never asked. not in so many words, of which he never seemed to run dry.
geralt assumed that if jaskier didnt ask, he wouldnt either. didnt want to be rude about it. might as well save the bard the last shred of privacy he had left.
a life on the road didnt afford either of them modesty. in the first week, geralt had enough eyefuls of bare bard ass to last him his whole extended life through, and that was before jaskier stopped the increasingly dramatic shenanigans to avoid being caught starkers in front of the witcher.
then… then there’d been the contract in toussant for geralt. the wine in toussant for jaskier. the kiss in toussant for both of them. the hangover in toussant for jaskier and finally, the long, tearful (for jaskier) discussion in toussant and suddenly, they were Something.
suddenly, the glimpse of a collar bone through an unbuttoned doublet sent geralt’s gaze skittering away, back to where he had been brushing roach. the ripple of muscles in jaskier’s back while bathing in a river. the curve of his spine while dressing for the day. the bob of his adam’s apple whole swallowing ale. he’d seen all of it before, but now it made his throat dry and his eyes dart elsewhere.
it came to a head at an inn after a particularly gruelling contract.
jaskier had insisted on a bath for both of them and a soft bed. a warm meal. the creature comforts that geralt was still getting used to allowing for himself.
for the first time, geralt found himself hesitant at the rim of a bath. should he get disrobed first, watch jaskier climb in after him? the very thought sent a flush of heat through his body.
“alright. out with it,” jaskier said curtly from behind him. the tone of his voice made geralt turn.
jaskier stood nude, hands on his hips, and geralt was mortified to feel a blush creep across his cheeks. he tried to force his gaze to stay, to drink all of jaskier in, but he only could cling to a few scant seconds before he turned and tried to pass it off as busying himself with his armour.
“there you go again!”
geralt hmm-ed. he’d been caught and he knew it.
“no, no, mister.” fingers, lithe but strong, lit under geralt’s chin and he allowed his head to be turned back to jaskier. “what is the matter with you? for weeks, you’ve hardly even looked at me. is there…. have i done something?”
geralt’s heart lurched.
“no,” he said, too quickly. too loud. he saw jaskier flinch and he reached up to encircle jaskier’s wrist with his hand, marvelling at the pulse he could feel under his fingers and how it jumped at the contact. “no.” he said again. “i just…”
jaskier let the silence hang as geralt worked at the knot of words on the back of his tongue. he stepped forward, hesitantly putting a hand on geralt’s flank. on reflex, geralt covered it with his own. he wanted it there, he wanted jaskier there, wanted him to know.
hewanted, and that’s what worried him.
“then what, love? it’s not like we haven’t seen each other before. i’ve seen your outside and even a few spots on the inside, given the givens,” jaskier joked. geralt snorted, leaning into the hand jaskier placed on his cheek and allowed his eyes to slide shut for a moment, basking.
“i want you.” geralt finally said, looking back to jaskier. “and when i look at you, i look at you like i want you.”
“how on earth is that a bad thing?” jaskier laughed shakily, a blush resting high on his cheeks. “i could do with a little wanting,”
“could you?” geralt asked, finally allowing his gaze to rake over his lover in full.
“i could,” jaskier laughed, leaning in to kiss the witcher while wheedling him from his armour. “and a little taking, if we’re being frank,”
the bath wasnt nearly big enough for the two of them, and neither was the bed, but when did a little close quarters hurt anyone?
Summary: “I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then.” —Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader, Jake Lockley x fem!reader, Marc Spector x fem!reader
Word count:9.2k
Warnings: Rough non-con, panty kink, violence, blood, gunplay, glove kink, asphyxiation, murder, creepy behavior, kidnapping, discussions of mental health
Note: the wait is over! writing this one hit a little too close to home lol. i want to thank my wonderful beta @nephilxterra for everything she did to workshop this. love you to pieces!
Why do I like this? I shouldn’t like this. Ugh, you mastermind! Once again, you’ve written everything out so well, and it grabbed my attention from the first sentence.
Steven and Readers budding friendship and love is so endearing, and I truly couldn’t help but fall in love with it. He was so endearing! The bits of Marc we got were so enrapturing, it truly encapsulated his fear and anxiety for Reader, and what beast lies within Jake Lockley.
Finally, let’s talk about Jake - because holy shit, that is a whole can of beans I didn’t want to enjoy, like at all, but I did. He’s very well written and I begrudgingly enjoyed the snippets of him throughout the story, as well as his full control at the end. I’m not a fan of non-con - at least I thought I wasn’t. So thank you for awakening that part of me? Lmao! Truly compelling and I couldn’t steal my eyes away from reading on!
Thank you so much for sharing something so dark yet well-rounded and pleasant!
There’s more than one way to be in hell. There’s more than one way to be lost. Sometimes all it takes to change a person’s life is meeting a stranger at the right place at the right time.
Dean Winchester is a brother, a son and a man without a purpose on a short road to nowhere. One night in a rundown diner off a Kansas highway he meets a hitchhiker in a tan trenchcoat with his sights set on anywhere but home. The two decide to head there together.
A/N: I saw this gif and absolutely just had to write all my filthy thoughts down somewhere. Because lets face it, he could absolutely be doing something else in that gif…right? So…enjoy :’)
Imagine being Soldier Boy’s girl.
Imagine, after years of being kept in confinement, he’s broken free and he sees you again.
Imagine that moment, your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach swooping with excitement before it travels to your core. You remember what he’s capable of. You remember the feel of his tongue against your dripping centre, the stretch of his cock as he entered you.
Imagine, the raw, animal mentality he would fuck you with - it’s been years after all.
Imagine him giving you that look before he stormed across the room, through the sea of people that surrounded you both as he takes you in his grasp.
Imagine him, pulling you into a side room, his biceps straining against his shirt as he manhandles you in the best way possible.
Imagine him ripping off every item of clothing you were wearing, as you do the same to him.
Imagine your fingers, tracing the lines of his muscles as he hungrily gazes at you, his thick fingers already preparing you for what’s to come.
Imagine, his warm palms grasping at your hips as he spins you around causing you to brace yourself against the wall. He pulls your ass out, his feet kick at yours to widen your stance before you feel the breach of his warm, hard dick.
Imagine him fucking you relentlessly, pounding into you with everything he has, years of pent up aggression, of sexual thoughts of only you.
Imagine the look on his face as you come around his cock, causing him to release an animalistic roar before he comes himself, filling you with absolutely everything he has.
