#prompt sixteen: struggling

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Headlines

Day #16 - Struggling | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Substance Abuse, Addiction, Minor Mention of Pregnancy | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC, Off-Screen), Minor Steddie | Tags: Clawing Your Way Out Of Rock Bottom, Tough Love, But Love

The headlines never stop coming, never relent, and if he dares to step foot out of his house there's a camera shoved in his face. Struggling, apparently, isn't allowed. The fall from grace must always be captured for the masses to gossip about.

His phone rings again, and again, and he lets it. He's not about to answer the phone and listen to anyone that's on the other end. He's heard it all before, and he doesn't have the energy for more of it. Not for Eddie's nagging or Steve's next plan of action. 

He's tried. They've all tried. It's useless.

He's useless.

Now, there's annoying banging on the door. He ignores that, too. 

"Hey, asshole, I know you're in there!" Goodie hollers through the door, and he's sure the next headline will read:

Former Drummer Evicted, Noise Complaints

Goodie can't actually get into the shitty apartment Gareth's been renting, so Gareth just props his feet up on the couch and ignores him. If he wants to yell through the door like an asshole, Gareth will let him. Gareth puts his headphones on, and blocks out the world. 

He's been good at that recently. Has had to be, if he hopes to survive this.

He closes his eyes and leans back.

Goodie lost the right to talk to him when he voted him out. All three of them, turning on him. Steve too, and Di. His own fucking wife. Giving him ultimatums that they all damn well knew he'd never be able to make good on.

Interventions that would never work, that he never wanted to work. He was fine. He was still showing up, drumming, and they thought they deserved more from him than his work. 

He can drum.

He can't stay sober. 

He jumps when the earphones are being plucked off of his head. 

"Jesus Christ, Goodie," Gareth snaps, but it isn't Goodie. At least, not just Goodie. 

It's Eddie, of course it is, who else could have picked the fucking locks? And of course, that means Steve, too, who is already gathering up the mess, shoving it into a trash bag by the handful.

Jeff standing there, holding it open for him.

They all wrote him off, months ago, and now here they are, harassing him further. It's bullshit. They wanted him gone? Great. Then they need to leave him alone, now. 

"Enough," Eddie says, "bender's over."

"Fuck you," Gareth snaps. He'll be done when he's good and ready, and he doesn't see that day coming anytime soon.

"Get up, let's go," Eddie says, and he pulls on Gareth's arms until he's standing, and then he's dragging him to the bathroom, Goodie kicking him on the ass the whole way, shoving him along.

"Stop it!" Gareth snaps, wheeling around on Goodie, only stopping because Eddie's restraining him.

"Goodie," Eddie warns, shutting the bathroom door, locking Goodie out, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Kid," Eddie says, meeting Gareth's eyes in the mirror. 

Gareth hasn't looked in a mirror in, well, a while. It isn't good. His eyes are dark, and purple underneath. This isn't what he should look like, and he knows it.

He's fucked it all up. His job, his band, his friendships, his goddamn marriage. 

His chance to be a dad in anything other than name.

"She had that baby?" Gareth asks, looking down at the floor.

"Not yet," Eddie answers, opening the shower door, "Here, get in."

And Gareth doesn't want to fight with him, so he does. Undresses and showers, and he feels a little better. Still awful. But a degree less, maybe.

"You can still turn this around," Eddie says from outside the shower door, "it's not too late. I'll help you."

It is too late. Di won't take him back. The band won't take him back. It is too late. Has been for a while.

"I can't fix this, I'm too far gone," Gareth mutters back.

"You're fucking not, shut up," Eddie snaps.

His own band kicked him out, replaced him. His wife left him, is having a baby that's he's not sure he'll have any parental rights to, or ability to see, and for good reason. He's a fuck-up. Unreliable. 

"Let me help you. We have all summer off."

Gareth looks at him, "You took the summer off? Why?"

Corroded Coffin never takes the summer off. They go, go, go during the summer. Five shows a week, at a flat run. That's what they're good at. Covering ground, entertaining crowds. 

"Because you're more important. I'm so sorry that we haven't gone about this right."

It's not Eddie's fault. Gareth knows that. Knows he only has himself to blame, even if most of the time he likes to lash out, and pretend otherwise. 

Down deep, he knows.

Down deep, he'd like to crawl out of this hole, but he can't really see daylight.

He's been digging too long.

"I don't think I can," Gareth whispers.

Eddie pulls him to his chest, hugging him tight, and it's been too long, and Gareth hugs back, "That's okay. I know you can."

And Gareth wants that to be true. Wants the trajectory to change. Wants his life back. All of it. Di, Eddie, the band. 

If he's making wishes, he's gonna wish big. 

"What do I do?" Gareth asks, face pressed into Eddie's neck. 

"Want it back," Eddie says, rubbing his back, "Take it back. Work for it."

Gareth lets Eddie hold him, then finally asks, "Have you talked to Di?"

"All the time," Eddie whispers, "she's wants it, too."

And that's when Gareth breaks, "She'll take me back?"

"Yeah, kid, I think she will if you can show her you're serious about turning this shitshow around."

"She's having a baby," Gareth says.

"You both are," Eddie says, "and wouldn't it be nice to be involved in that?"

It would, it really would.

"And Corroded Coffin?"

"Waiting. Always," Eddie says, and Gareth squeezes him, tight. "What do you say, kid? You in?"

Yeah. Gareth's in.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Prompt #16 - Struggling

They're working their asses off, grinding it out, but they haven't hit the big time yet. Or they're struggling in other ways...

Get those submissions in by 11:59 PM EDT tonight!

Be sure to tag @corrodedcoffinfest and feel free to use the hashtag #corrodedcoffinfest.

This will blog will comment with a 🦇 when your fic has been checked for word count and queued for reblogging.

[rogueddie]

Warmth and Safety T | 808 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

Steve knows he should be in his own hospital room. Not only so other people can visit too, but because of how his head spins as he struggles to walk down the corridor.

The white walls are too clinical, too metalic. They look nothing like the Russians underground lair, but mixed with the sharp stench of bleach and medicine? It's mixing into a cruel cocktail that has his instincts screaming for Robin.

He pushes forward, gritting his teeth and- trying- to ignore the memories trying to haunt him.

"Steve," Eddie greets, when he finally makes it through the door into his room, sounding exhausted. "What the hell, man?"

"I'm fine," Steve lies, hating how breathless he sounds. He sags into the chair next to Eddies bed, grimacing. "Just need a minute... catch my breath. There's, like, so many stairs."

Eddie is silent for a long moment, but Steve can feel his eyes boring into his head.

"What?"

"Wh- you shouldn't be here, man!" Eddie says. He sounds too exhausted for the stern tone to have any effect. "The nurses have told you already. You need to heal. You can't do that if you're dragging yourself around to... I don't know, check on us?"

"I need to make sure you're ok."

"We're in a hospital. We're as ok as we can get."

"I get that, but..."

The clock chimes, the earth rumbling as the town reads apart, Dustin's screams...

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand, alright? But you need to cut this shit out."

"I can't."

"Steve-"

"I need to know that you're alive. I need to know. It's not enough to hear that you're ok, I need to see it. I need to, Eds."

"Jesus Christ," he throws his head back, sighing heavy and dramatically.

But then he lifts his head, smirking a little as he opens an arm out towards him, beckoning him closer.

"Come here, big boy, let me give you a hug."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does as he told, standing up so he was shuffle to the bed.

"You don't have to say it all creepy, man, you'll give me ideas."

"Promise?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. But his playfulness quickly morphs into exasperation again when he huffs out, "just sit down, Steve, come on, come here."

It takes a lot of gesturing and, eventually, slight man handling, but eventually Eddie gets Steve to lay down next to him. He tugs Steve's head down so his ear is resting on his chest and, with some hesitation, he curls an arm around Eddie's waist.

He can feel his heartbeat, thumping against his ear, matching the beeping of the monitor.

"There," Eddie mumbles, brushing his fingers down Steve's spine. "Better, right?"

"... yeah."

His heart is pounding, almost as much as Eddie's is. It's only a little reassuring that Eddie is just as nervous as him- he can only hope it's for the same reason.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Eddie continues. "Who's gonna run around after those brats of you don't heal right? Me? I'm a bad influence, Stevie, you know I'll make 'em worse."

"You'd do great, they love you."

"Noooo," he squeezes Steve a little tighter, whining as high as he can get his voice to go. "Please, I'm begging, I'll go insane if I have to deal with them alone!"

"Now you know how I feel."

"God, I wish I didn't," Eddie sighs, turning serious again so fast that Steve feels like he's getting whiplash. "This whole thing is fucked. Those kids are only, like, fifteen."

Steve hesitates for a moment, before whispering, "I was sixteen, when this all started. Back in 83.x

"Jesus."

"Yeah, it's... I don't know. Like, I know it's horrible, but I like it when it's like this. Everyone in one place, knowing that there's doctors and shit nearby."

"That's not horrible. You know they're being cared for."

"Yeah, but it's worse this time. Like... I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and we won't have made it. This will be some stupid dream and you and Max..."

"We're still here," Eddie brings a hand up to his head, brushing his hair back. "You can feel it, right? I'm right here. We're not going anywhere."

Steve nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on Eddie's heartbeat.

"You know I love seeing you, right? Just... at least get a wheelchair or something. Please?"

Something is his chest cracks at how Eddie's voice breaks, how pained and desperate he sounds.

"Ok. I can do a wheelchair."

"Good. You start taking care of yourself and we can do this everyday."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, hand finally coming to a stop, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, I promise. Whenever and for however long you need. I'll be right here."

[romugh]

KINKTOBER '24 - OVERVIEW

oi! october is js around the corner, and that means kinktober season!! it's my first ever kinktober event, so don't be too harsh on me, i'm excited to see where this goes! i’ve put together a diverse and exciting (and spicy!) lineup for y'all. i will be testing myself and push myself out of my comfort zone, but bare with me! i genuinely couldn't choose what prompts to take, so i mixed and matched some from the previous years as well as new ones. very elaborate but i hope you'll like it! if you'd like to be tagged in some of these fics, feel free to comment or message me!

🍵 minors don't interact! for the rest of y'all, please be aware and mindful of warnings and tags before reading!

🍵 all fics will be top!reader x bottom!y (unless specified otherwise in content.)

🍵 anything related to this event will be tagged as 'romugh's kt '24' :)

🍵 i won't be posting any fics on monday, my uni + work schedule cannot take that... unless i somehow magically find time to pre-write more, this is the schedule and planning for my kinktober! i'll update this masterlist with the link and more info through this month, i'll let y'all know once that's done!

🍵 these fics may vary in length! i'm usually someone who tries to get to at least 2k words in, but some days may just be drabbles if i'm struggling with the timing! word counts will be added to this masterlist as soon as i can :)

— day one (01, oct)``` knife play, gun play, blood kink with natasha romanoff | crimson desires - villain!reader

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— day two (02, oct)``` cloned pleasure, double penetration with natasha romanoff | two of a kind - scarletwitch!reader

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— day three (04, oct)``` office sex, exhibitionism, hair pulling with natalie rushman | corporate affairs - CEO!reader

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— day four (05, oct)``` phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control with natasha romanoff | sensual frequenties - avenger!reader

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— day five (08, oct)``` bondage, blindfold, abs riding, edging and denial with natasha romanoff | bound to deny - avenger!reader

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— day six (09, oct)``` classroom sex, role reversal/roleplay, power exchange with natasha romanoff | teacher's pet? no, student's pet! - student!reader

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— day seven (10, oct)``` public tease, temperature play with natasha romanoff | public distractions - avenger!reader

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— day eight (12, oct)``` humiliation, filming, spanking, sensory deprivation with barbara sugarman | cinematic seduction - fem!reader

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— day nine (15, oct)``` sex pollen, breeding kink, cockwarming, unprotected sex with natasha romanoff | shall we play a game? - g!p!reader

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— day ten (16, oct)``` car sex, innocence, uniform with natasha romanoff | buttoned up, let loose - play'boy'!reader

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— day eleven (17, oct)``` strip club, strip tease, lap dance, lingerie with barbara sugarman | laced temptation - fem!reader

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— day twelve (19, oct)``` monsterfucking, tentacle (?) sex, stomach bulge with natasha romanoff | sweet on the tip of my tongue - venom!reader

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— day thirteen (22, oct)``` staying warm, hate sex, size kink with natasha romanoff | shut up and listen - villain!reader

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— day fourteen (23, oct)``` stress relief, free use, friends with benefits with natasha romanoff | running in circles - medic!reader

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— day fifteen (25, oct)``` mile high club, secret relationship, exhibitionism with scarlett johansson | fuck me like i'm famous - famous!reader

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— day sixteen (27, oct)``` office sex, cockstrapwarming, exhibitionism with scarlett johansson | she's on the floor rolling her eyes at me - fem!reader

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— day seventeen (30, oct)``` magic cock (literally), breeding kink with natasha romanoff | arcane genesis - fem!reader with magic peepee?

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[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 15

Day Fourteen | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Sixteen

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Free use; semi-public sex; oral sex; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie

GIF by chelseasdagger

"I need you to keep quiet for me.” 

The insistence was chased by the press of his gloved fingers between your slack lips. You bit down, savoring the slip of the leather between your teeth as Leto thrust deeper into you. He pressed his face into your neck, struggling to quiet his hypocritical grunts. 

You could hear the clicking of heels echoing further down the hall, and you fought the urge to turn and see if anyone was nearing. You knew that the Duke’s trusted warmaster was nearby, shooting imposing looks at anyone who dared inch just a little too close to your clandestine meeting place. 

Leto had made the request earlier in the week, and while it had initially struck you as odd, he had explained:

"With preparations for the emperor's official order, I'll have several meetings, and little time." He had eyed you sincerely from beneath his heavy brow. "I'll need you at a moment's notice, if you consent."

You hadn't had to think twice.

In the past week, Leto had taken you in so many ways, in so many unexpected and, frankly, often inappropriate places. His office, the barracks, the orchards, in the tall grass by the beach. If he had a single moment, he sent for you.

You'd been given just as little lead time that afternoon. Gurney had handed you a slip of paper, and you'd recognized Leto's handwriting immediately. There hadn’t been any instructions, simply a place to meet. The alcove was familiar to you—one of the few places in Caladan Castle that had relatively low foot traffic. Leto often found you there, reading or gathering your thoughts. It had become a frequent haunt of his as he sought your council, or simply sought a quiet moment with you. You’d shared your first kiss there, and several other confidences and intimacies had followed. 

This was, however, a relatively new intimacy for so calm a meeting place.

Now, Leto pushed your thigh up, pressing your back more harshly against the cool wall as you slotted your foot up against the bench beside you. You slipped your tongue along the worn leather of his gloves, whining softly as Leto’s pace became more frantic. You tipped your head back against the wall, letting his fingers slip from your lips. 

“Quickly,” You whispered, “You’ve a meeting with Hawat soon.” 

Leto grasped your jaw, using his grip to force you to meet his gaze.

“Thufir serves at my pleasure,” Leto gritted out, “I serve at yours.” 

You choked back a whimper as he suddenly drew away. He pressed his hand to your thigh, keeping your legs spread wide as he lowered himself to his knees. He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking over the tender nub with almost punishing strokes. You sucked in stunned breath as you fisted your hand in his curls, hips rolling down against the stroke of his tongue and the brush of his beard. He slid his hand up, fingers brushing across your slick opening. The added bulk of the gloves pressing into you nearly made your knees buckle. As good as it felt, it wasn't enough. You reached down, pushing Leto's hand away before lowering yourself to the floor with him.

You straddled his lap, sinking onto his cock again, watching the flutter of his lashes as his eyes slid closed. You let him grip your hips, guiding your movements as he drove up into you. You grasped his hair, tugging it and nodding hurriedly as your orgasm swelled. Leto growled as you tightened up around him, his hips snapping against yours with such force that your breath caught in your throat. It was only a few moments before his hips pulsed, then slowed as he spilled into you.

You opened your eyes as Leto rested his forehead against yours. You raised your hands to gently cup his face, thumbs brushing the flushed apples of his cheeks. He tipped his head from one side to the other, and you smiled as the tip of his nose brushed yours. 

“May I see you tonight?” He murmured. You couldn’t help the bashful smile that grew on your lips. The man had a planet to govern, an army to command, an emperor to appease—but he still requested your time where he would be within every right to demand it. 

“Of course,” You nodded. You gently smoothed Leto’s hair back and pressed a tender kiss to his lips before you stood on shaky legs, holding a hand out to him. He grasped it gratefully, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go. You straightened your dress, stalwartly ignoring the throbbing between your thighs as you watched Leto put himself back together, pulling up his pants and fixing the fastenings.

You watched him draw his shoulders tight and tip his chin up, as if slipping on some mask to play a part. You reached out, gently swiping away a bit of dust from the sleeve of his jacket. He caught hold of your hand before you could draw away entirely, raising it and pressing a courteous kiss to your wrist. Then he left without another word. You sighed softly, lowering yourself onto the bench as you listened to the retreating thud of his boots.

--

"Should I ask how your day was?"

Leto chuckled softly at your careful hedging. Neither of you had spoken since he'd arrived at your bedroom and settled down with you. You'd simply sat there and waited, watching the day's tensions slowly drain from his body.

He shook his head slowly, tipping it from side to side where it rested atop your outstretched thighs.

"I'd rather you didn't," He admitted.

"Alright."

You reached down, smoothing your hand over his hair before gently tracing the line of his forehead, and over his nose. As you reached his lips, Leto puckered them, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertip. Your smile widened as he turned his head to look at you.

"And you?" He pressed softly. "How was your day?"

You feigned consideration, humming as you directed your eyes toward the ceiling.

"Nothing much to report."

"Nothing at all?"

"No, no. Very routine."

Lowering your gaze to Leto's, you found him smiling playfully, eyes sparkling with a light that you'd hardly seen in the past week.

"Routine," He repeated, pushing himself and sliding his hand up your leg, easing up the fabric of your nightdress as he did.

"Quite."

"I think we can do better than that."

You shrieked with delight as Leto pounced over you, pressing you back onto the bed. Leto caught your lips in a kiss, the brush of his beard making your skin tingle. His fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing across your cunt. You pressed into the touch as you'd wanted to hours ago, sighing softly as his tongue plied gently between your lips. He drew away as the kiss broke, his hand settling against your thigh again to focus you. You opened your eyes as confusion washed over you and found Leto watching you with a gentle reverence.

"I know that I can be...Demanding," He offered, "But I have greatly appreciated your attentions over these past few days."

Your smile softened as you reached up, sweeping your knuckles across his cheekbone.

"I'll always come when you call."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @shanimallina87 ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ; @foxilayde

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here..welcome to eighteen..

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Uh... *checks notes* UH... *flips frantically*...listen my laptop exploded and I lost the original version of this chapter gimme a break. I think it was the oatmeal ch. last off.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

So. Danny is halfway through his squeeze this, please exercises where he has a grippy thing the doctors give him where he tries to squeeze this until they make calm noises again when something bursts through the door.

He’s so distracted that he drops his squeezing machine. 

Everyone immediately gets terse and guarded— the lady who looks out for him the most actually pulls up in front of him? Like, protecting him? With her body?? It’s so far out of left field Danny has to wonder if they’re, like, keeping him for something important down the line instead of just treating him. 

The doctors take shelter behind medical equipment where they can, but whatever the assailant is, it’s too fast for them to put up their defenses. For a second, Danny is instinctually scared— the doctor in the periwinkle scrubs sees him almost every day, changing out his bag and fussing with his lower half under his blankets. The doctor in green makes him do the hand stretches he doesn’t want to do and sit up so that he can do it more often again. 

He’s used to them. He doesn't want that to change, or— Or for them to get hurt. 

The blur darts through the doors and past the doctors and is definitely aimed at Danny, so when the lady catches it (with one hand??) and hauls it up out of reach of Danny’s cot, Danny’s relieved wheeze is genuine and emphatic. Ohgodthatwasscary. 

On the other end of her arm is a teenager. A teenager in a…red…outfit, probably, unless he really likes gray and Danny’s eyes are actually working normally for once. Gray hair. Some kind of face, presumably. 

The teen’s legs keep spinning until he realizes how caught he is. Then he goes completely limp in defeat. 

“Cild Lihting se þridda,” the lady scolds, not unlike how Danny’s heard Vlad scold his cat for throwing paperwork off his desk. “Hwæt eart eow dydest?”

“...Naþing ,” the teenager lies, badly, and it sounds so much like Nothing, mom, wasn’t me, that Danny can’t help but choke out a laugh. 

It makes his chest muscles spasm and his throat sore, sure, but that’s not the point. The lady keeps scolding the teen she’s holding up midair, but the teen lights up at Danny’s choked out wheeze like the sun. Almost literally, actually— the green starts accumulating in Danny’s field of view as his body tries to compensate for whatever’s going on in the atmosphere around him. 

The doctors slowly let down their improvised shields, fetching Danny’s lost grippy tool (ugh) and putting it back in his hand (UGH). Danny gives one, pathetic squeeze of the tool, and then decides to visibly languish, because this sucks, obviously. The fact that no one can sympathize with his struggle isn’t new. Just watch him go limp about it. 

The next time the lady and the teen stop making scolding and scolded noises, Danny looks over; the teenager has been, apparently, wrangled into a hair net and face mask. Okay. So it’s not that Danny is off limits then— or maybe he is, but either way, it’s more about getting people into the right gear than about keeping them away from him. Once the teen’s been sprayed down with something that smells absolutely gross, forcibly gloved, and dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, the teen is back on his feet and hollering as he leaves the lady behind. “Þancie eow!!” 

“Slaw, lytel Lihting!” 

Slow, Danny understands, parsing out the weird words as they reach him. Lytel might as well mean little. This sucks. He can never tell if he’s right when he guesses, and he just gets lucky when people understand him back, or whether people are pretending to understand him more than they actually do. Lighting is a weird nickname for a kid though. 

—And then the teen is a foot away from his face and babbling at top speed, entirely at ease with their proximity and hands moving a mile a minute, and Danny has not been losing enough time for that to be anything other than either magic or a superpower. 

Oh, his brain corrects. The word clicks into place. Lightning. 

It’s probably some kind of magic, Danny’s guessing, because as he’s absolutely flabbergasted that someone is leaning into his face and trying to engage him that talk that isn’t happening, his ghost sense flares with a backwash of OMGHIHELLO!!MIS/SEDYOUMISSED//YOUPLAYING?? that. Uh. Is very…a lot? Very intense??

Very…welcoming?

The lady who minds him but isn’t a doctor sighs, picks the teenager up by the waist (??) and sets him a whole foot back. The teen doesn’t even stop chattering, his aura flaring alongside a story Danny is definitely missing, but not unappreciative of. 

He throws something onto Danny’s bed. Danny drops the grippy tool in order to grab it, to the doctor’s verbal dismay. 

But. 

Like Danny’s model shuttle, which never leaves his side, the thing on his bed is Danny’s. This is Danny’s weird, flimsy, squishy toy.

The teen practically vibrates with pride.

…Okay, then. He’s kind of confused, but like. You know. He’s not against this.

Danny picks the squishy, blue thing in his trembling fingers and shakes it around without any sense of fine motor control, and the thing leaps out of his fingers and lands on the floor pretty much instantaneously.

It makes a weird suction noise. Danny peeks over the bed to find it sitting upright, stuck to the floor.

The teen responds by throwing even more colorful, oddly-shaped toys on the bed.

Danny knows enough about doctors to know that there were probably structured plans on how Danny was supposed to spend his time on specific exercises to target specific muscles and stretch specific parts of his hands, but the teen sits at his bedside and plays with toys Danny doesn’t remember with him, and no one stops them at all.

It’s nice.

For about an hour, until Danny truly tires, it's almost…normal.

[kinardsevan]

Okay, prompt. Tommy and Buck are having slow shifts and one of them decides to call the other.

consider this as existing in the same timeline as to can’t outdrive pain (someday it’s gonna take the wheel)

we survive

Tommy sighs, pushing a piece of paper across the table.

“Riley, you have to at least try to make your art not be derogatory,” he states in a gentle but firm tone. “Miss Sidney isn’t going to let this fly.”

Riley rolls his eyes, tossing a conte crayon onto the table. Charcoal scatters as it cracks in half, and the teenager crosses his arms. Tommy frowns, reaching out for the crayon and setting it back inside the box he’d brought with him.

He’s no stranger to Riley’s moods six months into this endeavor. What had begun as a way to fill some time after breaking his elbow and having to miss weeks of work has become part of his weekly ritual now, occasionally twice a week when he can swing the extra time. Evan has joined him a number of times when the time off has lined up, but today he’s alone.

Riley Collins was almost sixteen and had a rough background, one Tommy could relate to only too well. His mom had died when he was three, and he was left with an alcoholic father who cared so little that at seven, he’d been found digging in a neighbors trash can for food. That had begun the teen’s childhood in foster care, but it hadn’t been the end of it. He’d cycled through multiple foster homes with while struggling with attachment issues. There was a year-long period when Riley was eleven where his father had gotten sober, regained custody, and things seemed like they might get better. Except, Riley had been the ringer by that point. He’d lived in homes with emotional and verbal abuse. He’d seen parents hit each other, and occasionally hit the children. He’d seen sexual abuse through the tiny window of where his blankets didn’t completely cover his eyes when cries of his foster siblings woke him in the middle of the night. He’d faced some of those situations himself, and by the time he cycled back into his fathers home, he wasn’t the same little kid who had learned to become self-sufficient when his father was lost to the bottle.

Either way, Riley’s father made it six months before his sobriety with Riley back home went to hell. There was a DWI, and then an occurrence where Riley showed up to school with a black eye and bloodied nose. Then he was locked out of the house. CPS was still so involved at that point that he was quickly placed back in foster care, but the writing was on the wall at that point. Even though he’d been placed with a family with good values, he was a mess. There were stolen things, broken possessions, a flirtation with breaking the law. Ultimately though, it was a full-on brawl he got into with an uncle which led to his placement in the group home. And the thing was, he was a great student. He could stay invested in his school work and the routine it required without a problem. But when it came to people…he was a mess.

Tommy couldn’t help but reflect that back to his own childhood.

“This is so fucking lame anyway,” Riley bemoans.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You seemed to think it was cool three days ago.”

“What the fuck do you know, old man,” Riley replies, scowling at him. He shoves away from the table, and Sidney is up out of her chair quickly, already calling after him, but Tommy raises a hand to her.

“Let me go,” he tells her softly. Their group is usually a bit bigger, but with school being back in session, half of them have signed up for extracurriculars, so there’s only three today, and Sidney has the other two pretty well covered with whatever they’re drawing.

She looks at him with a hint of apprehension, but then nods, settling back into her chair.

Tommy picks up his sketchbook and moves around the table, walks out the back door toward a picnic table where Riley is pushing a stick into the aged wood, trying to peel a piece of loose long grain with it. He dares a glance up at Tommy and then sighs, looking back down at the table.

“Hey kid. You wanna tell me what that was all about,” he asks, crossing the space between them but still staying a few feet away.

Riley huffs but doesn’t answer as he keeps pushing at the picnic table with the stick. Tommy frowns, taking a few more steps forward and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a tin of Altoid Sours. He pops one in his mouth and then offers one to Riley. When the kid doesn’t immediately take one, Tommy rests the tin on the table between them.

“You know, I used to make a lot of really violent art,” Tommy states. “Still have some of it. Drawings of people getting stabbed, gunshot wounds.”

“Bet Miss Sidney would love to hear that right now,” Riley states sarcastically.

Tommy shrugs. “Probably not. But it was how I dealt. Especially with the people who hurt me when I was your age.” He flips his sketchbook back to the front before setting in front of Riley on the table. The first few pages have older, yellowed paper taped in. It’s been crumpled and some of it is shredded, but Riley looks up at it, skims over the images. He sets the stick down and flips a page over as something that looks suspiciously like comic paneling tells the story of a child and his abusive father. He watches the way Riley runs his fingers over the paper, touches the images.

“What do you know about abuse anyway, old man,” Riley murmurs softly, anger still present in his voice.

“More than you’d think, kid,” Tommy replies. When the teen looks up at him, Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I wasn’t always this built or lean. And me at thirteen, on the huskier side and gay? That didn’t go over all that well in my home.”

Riley doesn’t let on his emotional response to Tommy’s explanation, but he keeps flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. A drawing of a war zone. Drawings of mass military graves. Dog tags. Bloodied fists with colored pastels.

“Least you got out,” Riley comments after a few minutes of silence. “Had someone to help.”

Tommy gives a haughty laugh. “I went to the military to get out. I didn’t have anyone waiting at home if I made it back from Iraq. Everything I’ve done, I’ve had to do on my own.”

There’s still a scowl on Riley’s face, but the ire seems to sink out of it as he listens to Tommy.

“I was not cool when I came back, either,” he adds. “I was really shitty to people I now consider friends. Spent a lot of years alone because I couldn’t figure out how to just connect with people.”

“Least you found people who wanted you around,” Riley grumbles, his voice still soft, like he doesn’t actually want Tommy to hear him. “I got two years.”

Tommy sighs. He’s not sure whether saying something is a good idea. There are still too many what ifs and probabilities for him to be sure.

“You know, Evan and I have been talking to Miss Sidney,” he states in a quiet tone. Riley finally reaches out and takes one of the altoids, pops it into his mouth. His eyes slowly raise, though he doesn’t look directly at Tommy. “But we can’t do anything if you keep showing this kind of attitude in program. They won’t consider it a good placement.”

Riley’s brown eyes meet his then, his sandy blonde hair half hanging in them. He stares at Tommy with a bewildered expression.

“Hailey is-..”

Tommy shakes his head, cutting Riley off. Of course the kid would think they’d want a young child. “Hailey doesn’t fit in our home. She’s six. She needs a mom.”

“Dakota-“

“Doesn’t like fire trucks,” Tommy comments, in reference to another one of the younger kids.

Riley looks up at him, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you two want a baby?”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Do you know how long the adoption process is for an infant? Never mind surrogacy.” He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the fact that for all of Riley’s questions, the idea of living in a house with two men in a committed (carnal) relationship isn’t one of them.

Riley is quiet again for a few moments as he closes Tommy’s sketchbook and places it back on the table.

“I age out in 798 days,” he mutters.

Tommy takes a breath and shrugs again. “Well. I guess that leaves us roughly twenty-two thousand more to have you around with us, five of take a few thousand,” he states. “You know, if you want to.”

Riley looks up at him through his eyelashes with an expression that’s trying suspiciously not to reflect any kind of hope. Tommy recognizes it from the one he had when he’d been told he was going back to live with his father at thirteen. He narrows his gaze slightly as he reaches out for his sketchbook.

“You know, Evan makes a mean shepherd’s pie,” he comments, sliding the book back over. “I could probably get him to whip one up tonight. He’s supposed to be off shift soon.”

“T-tonight,” Riley stammers.

“Only if you want to,” Tommy replies. “And if you apologize in front of Miss Sidney. I kinda promised her you’d be a good fit and you’re making me look bad right now.”

The slightest bit of an upturn happens at the corners of Riley’s mouth. Tommy nods, reaching out for the altoids tin. He closes it and pops it back in his pocket.

. . .

Hours later, in the silence of their home, Evan rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder as they stand in the doorway of what they expect to become Riley’s bedroom. The teen is sprawled across the Queen-sized bed and a pillow that Tommy finds to be suspiciously similar to one from his and Evan’s bed is wrapped tightly in the teen’s arms.

“Dare I say, he’s a little attached to us,” Evan whispers to Tommy.

Tommy chuckles, pointing up to the T-shirts tacked up to a cork board on the wall. “That was his idea.”

Both shirts are worn and faded, one from the 118 and the other from Harbor. The vinyl is half-peeled from the shirts, and only the outline of Tommy’s last name remains on the shirt that belonged to him from how much use it’s seen.

“Who would’ve thought he’d like us that much,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think he feels seen. Understood,” Tommy murmurs back. He takes a breath, looking down at Evan. “He asked if he could take both last names.”

Evan smiles wearily at Tommy. “He can have whatever he wants.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, although he stiffens when Riley moves on the bed, only to settle a few seconds later with a contented sigh.

“And this is why you’re not in charge of the budget right now,” he comments. “He’ll have you talked into a car and three gaming systems in under twenty-four hours.”

Evan scowls at Tommy, turns his head and bites his shoulder. Tommy grunts softly, turning toward him. He pushes Evan gently out of the room, across the hall into their bedroom, easing the door shut quietly.

“Let’s not traumatize the kid on his first night home,” he states, framing Evan’s face with his hands before he dives in for a heated kiss. Evan moans softly into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s shirt.

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to drown me out with the shower,” Evan replies, tugging Tommy back towards the en-suite.

And he does.

[skibasyndrome]

💜 wilmon;

"I mean.. you make me feel like I'm worth something."

CW: underage drinking (depending on how you define that I guesss... they're sixteen and drinking wine)

"I mean.. you make me feel like I'm worth something," Wille says, almost just a sigh in the silence of the night.

Simon isn't quite sure how that would be physically possible, but he feels something inside of his chest shatter at the confession. Who the fuck hurt this sweet, sweet teenage boy enough to make him say something like that, he thinks, then, kicking his slowed down brain into gear, goes, right, because. Right. Something about him never quite being good enough. Which is ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous to think about, because in all his sixteen years on this earth Simon's never met anyone who's quite as good as his best friend.

"Fuck...," Wille sighs next to him, then huffs a laugh, using his legs to, a little clumsily, put his swing back into motion. "Too much, wasn't it?" he asks, then lets out a giggle that's more bitter than amused.

It sends another pang through Simon and he feels the urge to take another sip out of their by now almost empty wine bottle. Maybe he needs to reach Wille's level of tipsy to have this kind of an uncomfortable conversation.

"It's okay," Simon says, and, instead of taking a swig, lowers the bottle to the ground, moving to set his own swing into motion. Which is maybe the second best thing to show Wille... what, exactly? Solidarity? To tell him, hey, I'm here, you're fine, I'm not leaving, you're so good that I can't believe anyone let you think otherwise?

When Simon kicks his feet harder to gain momentum he hears Wille let out a more genuine laugh from the swing next to him, a sound so soothing and bubbly and warm that Simon has to join in.

After a few moments of struggling Wille manages to also pick up speed and synchronize his motions with those of Simon and fuck, that victorious laugh of his feels like it could cure all the needle-pricks of pain and anger Simon feels about his Wille not being treated the way he deserves to be treated. Maybe they'll be okay, maybe Wille will be okay. Maybe Simon can help him after all.

When they swing forward, slowing at the highest point, Wille reaches out, an uncoordinated arm shooting into the space between their swings, and without having to think about it, Simon grabs it, squeezing Wille's warm palm as hard as he can. The seat of his swing sways dangerously, but he grabs onto the chain harder and doesn't let go of Wille either, because Wille is giggling again and Simon needs to keep him giggling, because otherwise he himself might cry, and also because there's a very egotistical thought in his mind that tells him if he lets go now, Wille might not allow this again. And Simon can't let that happen.

sjjsnsnsksmsksosmndndjd we gave up on the 5 sentence-ness of it all a long time ago....... but hey, have some... kinda sad-but-hopeful-ish wilmon childhood best friends to lovers!! Thank you so so so much for the prompt, dearesr anon!!! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I'll write you the next 5 (or more, lmao)

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

The Jeep

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

[AO3]

 “I’m just saying—” Stiles said, sitting back against the velvet covered bedhead. “He’s sixteen now, he’s got his licence, he’s going to need a car.”

“Then we’ll get him a car,” Derek replied from the ensuite.

“Why not just give him the Jeep?” Stiles pressed.

Derek peered his head around the corner of the doorframe. “Because that thing is held together by duct tape and prayers.”

“Then we’ll get it fixed up,” Stiles suggested.

“Or we just get him a new car,” Derek countered, stepping out of the ensuite. He turned the light off behind him and climbed into bed beside Stiles. “One with better safety ratings, GPS, Bluetooth, and all that. A car that’s not going to break down or fall to pieces every time he reverses out of the driveway.”

“A car that crumples like a paper ball at the smallest dent? I mean, I hit Jackson with that Jeep and it barely made a dent.”

Derek huffed out a breath, struggling to smother his laughter and trying to keep a serious face.

“We’ve been through a lot, and – for better or worse – that Jeep has survived everything we have,” Stiles continued. “It may not have Bluetooth or GPS, but it still works after all these years.”

Derek sighed.

He had to admit: Stiles had a point. That Jeep, despite all the damage and duct tape, had held together over decades.

But there was something else; something Stiles wasn’t saying.

Derek leant back against the pillows, turning his head to look at Stiles.

“And…?” he prompted.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Stiles started slowly, “but it was my mum’s car. My dad gave it to me as a way of holding onto her. I always felt like… it felt like she was watching over me. And as silly as it sounds, the thought that she’d be watching over Eli gives me some comfort.”

Derek reached over and took Stiles’ hand in his. He laced their fingers together and gave Stiles’ hand a gentle squeeze.

Stiles blinked back the glistening tears that welled in his eyes.

Derek brushed the ball of his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.

“Okay,” he relented. “You can give him the Jeep.”

Stiles straightened, looking at Derek with a mix of shock and joy.

“On one condition,” Derek added quickly. “We get a complete refit: new engine, brakes, airbags, full service—all of it. And we’re taking the police scanner out.”

“You can replace it with one of those fancy radios with Bluetooth and GPS,” Stiles offered, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder.

A small smile turned up the corners of Derek’s lips.

“Deal,” he whispered, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Stiles’ head.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Eli?” Derek called out from where he stood by the front door.

He heard the footsteps on the wooden floorboards as Eli emerged from his room. “Yeah?”

“You got a minute?” Derek asked.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked as he made his way down the stairs and over to his dad’s side.

“Should you be?” Derek asked as he held the front door open, letting his son step out onto the front porch where Stiles stood waiting for them.

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting about as he searched his memories for anything he might have done that would get him in trouble.

“No,” he answered, but there was an upward infliction at the end of the word that made it sound like a question rather than a statement.

“You’re not in trouble,” Stiles reassured him.

“So, what’s up?” Eli asked.

“Well,” Stiles started. “You’re sixteen now and you have your license, and since your dad and I need the cars all the time—”

“And since you’ve proven you can be responsible and trustworthy,” Derek added.

“—we’re giving you a car.”

Eli’s eyes opened wide, his jaw hanging open. “Seriously?”

Derek nodded.

Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out the key, holding it out in front of him for Eli to take.

Eli recognised the key.

He stared at it in stunned silence.

When he found his voice again, his words were barely a whisper.

“The Jeep?” His voice broke around the word, his eyes glistening with tears of joy as he looked from the key to his dads’ faces. “You’re giving me the Jeep?”

“It’s all yours,” Stiles told him.

Eli reached out and look the key from his dad.

“It’s been fully serviced,” Derek told him. “It has a new engine and everything.”

Eli glanced over his shoulder at the dusty-blue Jeep. “Can I…?”

Stiles nodded.

He leapt off the porch and bounded over to the Jeep, pulling open the driver’s side door and sliding into the seat. He didn’t turn it on; he just sat in the driver’s seat, bouncing up and down slightly with uncontainable happiness. He couldn’t help but laugh with excitement as he let his hands grip the soft, worn leather of the steering wheel.  

Stiles and Derek stepped over to the car.

Eli bolted upright, his eyes widening as he remembered something.

“Does it still have the—?” His words died off as he answered his own question: he pulled down the sun visor to see the photo of Stiles wrapped in Claudia’s arms. He was four – maybe five – years old in the photo, the sun shining on their faces as they both looked at the camera, caught half way between smiling and laughing. He carefully pulled the photo out from where it was held in place by elastic, holding it in his hands as he looked at it fondly.

He sniffed and blinked back tears, trying to hide his face from his parents as he turned to hand the photo to Stiles.

Stiles shook his head, gently pushing Eli’s hand back. “That’s for you.”

Eli looked at him, his brow furrowed slightly with confusion.

“She’s always watching over you,” Stiles said quietly.

Eli didn’t say anything. Tears fell from Eli’s eyes, trailing down his cheeks as he looked down at the photo again. He offered his dad a shaky smile as he slotted the photo back into its place. He looked at his grandmother’s face one more time before carefully and lovingly putting the sun visor back up.

He wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “Thanks, Dad.”

Stiles offered him a kind smile.

“There’s an emergency kit in the back,” Derek told him. “First aid kit, blanket, bottled water, snacks, a change of clothes, and a few other things. And, most importantly…” He stepped around the hood of the Jeep and opened the passenger side door. He reached into the glove box, pulled something out, and held it up.

The moment Eli and Stiles saw it, they both burst into laughter.

A brand new roll of duct tape.

[marvelmusing]

Keep Your Judgement

Masterlist

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the Darkling and the Sun Summoner are supposed dead in the Fold, Ravka turns on Grisha, and you find yourself imprisoned by First Army soldiers. It’s then that you realise your power as a durast has been severely underutilised and perhaps you are meant for more.

My Masterlist • Series Playlist

[masterlist will be updated as chapters are completed]

Chapter One

After being held captive by First Army soldiers, you use your power to escape and free your fellow Grisha, only to be interrupted by someone unexpected.

Chapter Two

Settling into the Sanctuary, an old house fashioned into a safe place by the General, you find yourself recruited by the man himself to free some of your fellow Grisha.

Chapter Three

Journeying to the Little Palace, you manage to evade the patrolling soldiers and find some books that might help you understand the General’s condition.

Chapter Four

During a walk around the Sanctuary, you share some theories with the General, and a familiar face makes an appearance.

Chapter Five

Progress is made with your work regarding the amplifier, and you grow closer to the General.

Chapter Six

Claiming the fox as your amplifier has an unexpected side effect, but you soon gain the confidence to attempt the merge of your forms.

Chapter Seven

After putting your theory into practice, you find yourself stumbling back to the Sanctuary. Even as you struggle to feel human again, your instincts guide you to seek out the General.

Chapter Eight

As the days go by, you and Aleksander grow closer, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by your fellow Grisha.

Chapter Nine

A betrayal is brought to light, prompting you into action to save Aleksander’s life.

Chapter Ten

In the aftermath of the poisoning incident, you and Aleksander become closer than you ever expected.

Chapter Eleven [18+]

It’s the night before the engagement party at the Spinning Wheel, before the plan you and Aleksander have orchestrated comes into fruition. Sleep eludes you, but Aleksander is able to offer a solution for your nerves.

Chapter Twelve

The day of the attack has arrived and you stand by Aleksander’s side as you bring about the end of the Lantsov dynasty.

Chapter Thirteen

As the attack on the Spinning Wheel continues, you do your best to return to Aleksander’s side, though you soon find it more difficult than you anticipated.

Chapter Fourteen

After your return to the Sanctuary, you and Aleksander do your best to recover and make plans for your next move.

Chapter Fifteen [18+]

After taking the capital, you and Aleksander move onto the next stage of your plan - locating Morozova’s workshop to find a cure as Aleksander’s condition worsens.

Chapter Sixteen

Theories about merzost, the very boundary of your powers, and your relationship with Aleksander are all put to the test as everything comes to a head.

Chapter Seventeen

As Aleksander recovers from the impact of merzost on his body, you search for a way to fix the unexpected side effects and together you make plans for your lives going forward.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Sirius Black has been in a whopping total of one relationship. In fourth year, he had a very lovely girlfriend by the name of Mary McDonald. He and Mary are still good friends and he adores her wholeheartedly, and their relationship was really just a bit of good fun.

Sirius Black has kissed a whopping total of sixteen people. All, except Mary, have meant nothing more than a fleeting kiss and a bit of fun. Fourteen of them have been girls, and two very secret ones have been blokes.

Usually, when Sirius gets kissed by whatever fling he’s having at that time, it’s because they want him to shut up. Sirius has a tendency to ramble. He goes on these long, extravagant rants about things that excite him or boil his blood. He gossips and rambles and chatters until his mouth is dry and his jaw hurts too much to say anything else.

He annoys people. He knows that. He’s working on it, slowly. He’s not getting very far, in all these years of trying. He knows this because when he talks for more than three minuets straight, his current make out buddy will just pull him into a kiss and shut him up for a while. And then, if he starts talking again afterwards, they’ll huff and roll their eyes and that’s when Sirius finally stops. He sinks in on himself and hides away and won’t say much about anything for hours.

Sirius only really gets spontaneously kissed when he’s being annoying. He knows this now. And he hates it.

He’s really trying, but he struggles. He struggles so much, it’s just so hard to shut up sometimes when you have such strong emotions like he does.

But he never expected to be too much for James.

He’s rambling, he knows he is. But James never seems to huff or roll his eyes. Sometimes it seems like he zones out and doesn’t listen, but Sirius honestly doesn’t even mind, because James is still there. He might be in his own head, but he’s always still there, and eventually he’ll tune back in and nod along and even ask questions which prompts Sirius to talk even more.

So when Sirius has been rambling for the better part of ten minuets, and James suddenly grabs him and drags him into a quick kiss, Sirius shuts down.

His best friend in the whole world just made him shut up. He’s even gotten insufferable to James. And he knows he’s going on and gossiping about things James doesn’t care about, but if he really doesn’t want to listen he could have just asked.

He didn’t need to make Sirius feel like shit about it.

And it doesn’t help that Sirius has been dreaming about kissing James for years now.

He shuts off, stops talking, and brings his knees up to his chest, “Sorry.” Sirius mutters, and closes his eyes for a moment.

He wants to cry, but he refuses to be so annoying in front of James.

“Sorry?” James asked, sounding confused and kind of offended, “Sorry.” James repeated, and he sounded kind of gutted.

He knows. The worst part is that he knows. He figured it out. He must have. He knows, just from one simple kiss that Sirius is madly in love with him, and that he too hates himself for talking too much. He’s just ruined everything with his inability to shut his fucking mouth.

James has probably been waiting for Sirius to shut up since he got into the dorm, and the only way he could figure out to do it was to kiss his mouth shut.

Sirius is going to cry. He can’t bring himself to say anything before he crawls out of James’ bed curtains and climbs into his own. He draws them shut and curls up under the covers, casting a silencing charm around him before crying himself a headache.

James pokes his head into the curtain after a while. And Sirius really tries his best to not cry more but he can’t help it, he’s so annoying that his cries outweigh the fucking charm.

Just like his mother said. Insufferable chatterbox. He should have let her sew his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry.” James said, sitting at the very end of Sirius’ bed, knees curled to his chest and cheeks stained with sticky tears.

Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say anything, too afraid it would annoy James more. He hates annoying his friends, especially James. Oh, James.

“I shouldn’t have-“ James cleared his throat, “I know we’re best friends, but… well, I suppose we’re not now. But you’re- you’re the one person I’ve always trusted, and you already know, so I’m just gonna say it, okay? I’m… I’m queer.”

Sirius tensed and looked at James, “What?”

“I’m queer.” James confirmed, “And I- I’m sorry I just… I thought maybe you- maybe you felt the same. Sometimes I wonder… when you… you look at me like- like I’m… I don’t know. It’s stupid. It’s all so- I’m so fucking stupid.” James sniffled, rubbing the back of his palm on his nose, “I don’t want to lose you over some stupid feelings, and I know you hate me. I’m sorry your stupid best friend is a queer, I know it’s- I’m… I’m sorry, okay. But I need you to know- I’ve always wanted you to know.”

“You’re…” Sirius sat up, pulling the blankets to his chest, “You’re queer?”

James nodded, “Please don’t tell anyone.” He looked at Sirius through glassy eyes, “Please don’t hate me.”

“James I-“ Sirius launched himself forward, placing his hand over James’ and squeezing it tight, “I’d never hate you. Never. Why would you- Jamie… I’m… me too, okay. I’m… I’m queer too.”

“What?” James sniffled, “You are?”

Sirius nodded, “But I don’t understand what this has to do with me… with me needing to shut up.”

“It has nothing to do with- Sirius…” James pleaded, dipping his head to search Sirius’ eyes, “Where did you get the impression I wanted you to shut up.”

“You kissed me, James!” Sirius defended, “People only ever kiss me like that when I’m being annoying- need to shut up. I… you found my stupid rambling so annoying that you needed to shut me-“

“I don’t find your rambling annoying or stupid, Pads- I’m… don’t you… wait- people do that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m ashamed, obviously, James.” Sirius sobbed, bringing his hands to his eyes, “You’re stuck with a best friend who can’t shut his mouth. Why would I annoy you more by rambling about my petty problems that are entirely my own fault.”

“Because you’re my best friend.” James muttered, pulling Sirius’ hands away from his face, “And you’re meant to tell me these things so I can protect you from them… oh, Sirius, love, I’m so sorry.” James frowned and wiped some of Sirius’ tears away with the calloused pads of his thumbs, “I’m so sorry people treat you that way. I don’t feel like that, love. You know I enjoy your rambling, I love the sound of your voice. It brings me so much comfort.”

Sirius sniffled, “So why would you shut me up like that?”

“Sirius…” James tipped his head with coy smile, “I didn’t shut you up, love. I kissed you.”

“I don’t understand.” Sirius whispered.

“Sirius…” James pressed, “I kissed you.”

Sirius could only blink at him, the dots unable to connect themselves in his head.

James smiled, huffed a soft breath through his nose that Sirius took as an amused sort of laugh. They looked at eachother for a moment, and only a short moment before James was cupping Sirius’ cheeks and pulling him in close to kiss.

This time when James kissed him, it wasn’t to quiet Sirius. It was simply to kiss him. And James kissed him deeply, breathing a heavy sigh through his nose at first contact. His fingers dug deeper into the plush of Sirius’ cheeks and he opened his mouth, slipped in his tongue, and moaned a contented sigh. James kissed Sirius because he wants to kiss Sirius.

Because James seems to feel the same way.

“Oh.” Sirius muttered when the kiss broke, both desperate for air, “You fancy me.”

“Bingo, love.” James murmured, smiling dreamily up at him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips all wet and swollen, his eyes all glassy and soft. He looked positively chaffed to have just done that, and Sirius found his heart leaping out of his chest at the sight.

“You weren’t kissing me to shut me up?”

James shook his head, “I kissed you because every time you go one one of those rants I fight the urge to kiss you all over. Sometimes I even zone out completely and come up with a whole scenario in my head where I kiss you, and you kiss me back, and sometimes we shag and sometimes we don’t, and we lay in bed together, and I get to lay on your chest and listen to it vibrate as you ramble some more. Sometimes I imagine falling asleep to it, to you, because I love you, you make me feel safe. The sound of your voice makes me feel safe, Sirius.”

“Oh.” Came a shattered sob out of Sirius’ mouth, and he melted. James laughed at him softly, wiping the tears in Sirius’ eyes and pulling him in tight for a hug. He even went so far as to scatter kisses all over Sirius’ head.

“I promise I only interrupted you because I found you so unbelievably beautiful in every way that I simply couldn’t resist anymore. I’m so sick of holding back and waiting.” James leant down to kiss his brow, “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you now.”

“I want you now, too.” Sirius muttered, curling into James, “You make me feel safe too, Jamie.”

“I know, love.” James chuckled, “You tell me all the time.”

Sirius blushed and wrapped himself tighter around James, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah.” James muttered, and couldn’t stop smiling about it.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered as his lips brushed against James’. He pressed a singular, soft little kiss there before whispering more, “I’m sorry if I annoy you with-“

“You don’t. You can’t.” James promised, kissing him again, “Sometimes I wish I was the only person you’d ramble to, so I might get to be special.”

“You are.” Sirius smiled, “You’re the only person who doesn’t find it insufferable.”

“You’re the only person I’d never find insufferable.” James grinned and kissed him hard and deep again. It lingered for a while, the kiss, until their lips were swollen and they were panting for air. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Sirius promised, “The person I save my most special rambles for.”

James giggled, “And I’m yours. The person who could listen you nonstop talk for the rest of his life and never grow tired of you.”

“You’re mine.” Sirius agreed.

“Lay with me?” James asked, almost desperate sounding, “Let me lay on your chest whilst you finish telling me everything you wanted to say before?”

Sirius smiled and nodded his head, “And once I’ve finished that, I’ll ramble on about all the ways and reasons I love James Fleaumont Potter, because I’ve been dying to talk about that one for years.”

James kissed him through a smile, and they did exactly that.

★ ★ ★

OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. SIRIUS DESERVES BETTER AND NOW JAMES IS GOING TO GIVE HIM EVERYTHING HE DESERVES AND MORE!!! THEYRE SO IN LOVE I CANT 😭😭😭

Someone find me a James to spontaneously be kissed by please and thank you

If you want to read more of my work you can find it all here :)))

Just tagging a few people who expressed interest in this little drabble, all my prongsfoot shippers have got to stick together in these sparse conditions I swear: @vintagetee13 @fiendishfyre @snarky-magpie @groundzero-v @lapassemirroir @siriuslycomplex

[loosingmoreletters]

For the ask game and because I’m soooo curious about what you’ll do with this: best friends sibling au for wangxian

The way I needed a second to parse this prompt. It’s best friend’s sibling, right?

Wei Wuxian is smart, the kind of smart that meant you either went down in the history books for revolutionizing cultivation or died trying. He knows that most people assume he’s going to die trying in the attempt. He’s fairly sure his mother has had his eulogy written since he was ten and his father started picking out coffins when he hit thirteen.

It’s whatever, Wei Wuxian’s got a goal in life, and he won’t stop accelerating until he reaches it.

Everyone knows it, and he supposes that’s the reason he got introduced to Lan Xichen at the itty-bitty age of five. Well, introduced, is a rather generous way to say his mom grabbed Lan Xichen and plopped him in front of Wei Wuxian in a sort of “behold, a fellow child” movement, mortifying everyone else in attendance, particularly Uncle Lan.

Wei Wuxian struggled to get along with his agemates, outpacing them easily, and Lan Xichen apparently needed someone to poke fun at him before he turned into a total rock. They had an odd give and take relationship, and not just because Wei Wuxian’s parents were independent cultivators and homeschooled him all over the world.

At sixteen, Wei Wuxian knew that Lan Xichen latched on to him because of the end result of a messy divorce. Sects, even in this day and age, didn’t particularly condone divorce. Separation tended to be the end all, which was the reason why they never got to see Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli on the weekends.

But Lan Xichen’s parents had gone through a divorce and Gusu Lan got to keep their sect heir and Lan Xichen’s mom her youngest. She’d wanted custody of both children, but the sects wouldn’t ever allow that.

And all of this culminated in Wei Wuxian accompanying Lan Xichen to the airport to pick said younger brother up. Well, that and the broken arm. Cultivation didn’t revolutionize itself and Wei Wuxian suspected that if he’d spent another hour in the library, Uncle Lan would’ve thrown him out himself.

Lan Wangji, the brother to be picked up and taken to Gusu for the first time in ten years, was sixteen, like Wei Wuxian himself, but that didn’t mean much given how much better Wei Wuxian did around older peers.

And apparently he looked a lot like Lan Xichen—

Oh.

“Well, that was a fucking lie,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Xichen the moment he spotted what could only be Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian supposed that at first glance, Lan Wangji looked a lot like Lan Xichen to someone who’d seen Lan Xichen out of sect robes, but a simple comparison didn’t measure up.

“You never told me your brother was hot,” Wei Wuxian hissed. “How have I known you for two thirds of my life and never known your brother was hot?”

“I’ve shown you photos,” Lan Xichen pointed out.

Well, yeah, but Wei Wuxian hadn’t wanted to see them because he’d been dragged to the Cloud Recesses by his mother only to be told that Lan Xichen would be gone for the summer, visiting his brother and mother. And the Lan Wangji in those pictures had been inherently ugly by virtue of stealing Wei Wuxian’s best friend.

This Lan Wangji was not.

“Does Uncle Lan know your brother has an undercut?”

Holy shit, Wei Wuxian needed to touch Lan Wangji’s head so badly. Squish his face between his hands and bite his lips.

“No,” Lan Xichen said and waved at the Hottest Man Alive, trademark pending. “Would you do me the favor and tell him?”

Wei Wuxian turned to his best friend and snorted. “I love you, but if I piss of Uncle Lan one more time, he’s banning me from the Cloud Reccesses too.”

“Thought so.”

[dreamwatch]

Disenchanted Lullaby

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #16 - Prompt: Struggling | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: depression, chronic pain, referenced drug use | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, slice of life, introspection, the comedown after touring, loneliness, ennui

In all my universes Eddie has Bipolar type 2. Make of that what you will. :)

Technically no pairing... technically...

Eddie opens the apartment door, a rush of stale air meeting him in the hallway. He steps inside and drops his bag, toeing his sneakers off. The curtains are still closed, dust motes decorating the room; there are upturned dishes by the sink that are long since dried. The sofa is a mess of clothes and books, discarded when he was packing. The place is just as he left it four months ago.

He sorts through weeks of unread mail, bills on one pile, junk on another. Starts a third pile when he recognises the handwriting on some letters; Dustin, Mike. Steve. He sticks that one into a pile of it’s own. No overdue notices because he cut off the cable and sent checks from the road for the rent and utilities. Probably confused the hell out of them with all the different post marks.

There’s a lingering smell of himself in the bedroom, an echo of him, and he wishes he’d changed the bedding before he left for the tour. He unpacks his bag, checking for clean clothes, but there’s road-stink on everything so he takes it all down to the laundry, trying to get four months of sweat and cigarettes out of the fabric.

He had the good sense to empty the fridge before he left; he forgot once and came home to find food so rotten it was almost sentient. But that means he has nothing to eat. He’s been living off pizza and Taco Bell for sixteen weeks; there was a venue in Denver that gave them fruit and vegetables among the usual subs and pizzas. He never realised eating a carrot could be a spiritual experience.

The aisles of the local supermarket are filled with women and their offspring, an old lady hits the back of his bad leg with her trolley, doesn’t even say sorry. 

The harsh fluorescent strip light flickers above him as he stares at the deli meats. There’s fifty cents off pastrami. He needs to get bread. 

The strip light hums. 

Maybe some mayo. Should definitely get some oranges. 

“Sir?”

He blinks and looks as the girl behind the checkout.

“Sorry, what…?”

She sighs. “$26.55.”

“Right. Yeah, sure.”

He hands over three tens and walks out as fast as he can. As he loads up the car he notices the twin six packs of PBR at the bottom of the trolley.

The stairs finish off the job the old lady started, he feels flayed and raw, but he ran out of Vicodin about eight shows back. The apartment is quiet enough that he can hear the whistling of his tinnitus. He thinks about calling Wayne but it’s lunchtime in Indiana and the old man will be sleeping. He’ll catch him another time.

He’s in pain and exhausted, so he slides out of his jeans, climbs on top of the dirty bed and sleeps.

Wayne used to say that his mother ‘suffered with her nerves’, and Eddie could never make any sense of that until he started high school. They didn’t see it for what it was at first, teenage boys and their angry moods, but Wayne recognised it eventually. Eddie’s been on and off meds ever since.

Right now he’s off. But they numb him, dial him down when he needs to be dialled up, so he doesn’t take them when he tours. It’s not smart; the last few weeks he’s felt it creep back, insidious tendrils grabbing him, pulling him down. His ‘nerves’. He needs to call his doctor.

It’s amazing how many people think everyone in a band lives together like The Monkees, all trapped in one big house. They did, when they first moved to Indy and found a two bedroom shitbox. Now, though, they can’t wait to get the fuck away from each other the second the tour ends. Weeks trapped on a bus with no privacy and very little hygiene doesn’t do much for long term friendships. By the end any camaraderie has begun to curdle. 

Gareth and Matt live with their girlfriends now, Jeff with his wife and baby. They have solid families, good reasons to not be in the same room as one another until they have to get back into the studio. Eddie has his books, his records and a television set. He considered getting a dog for company but there’s nobody to look after it when he inevitably goes back out on the road.

He doesn’t verbalise it because it’s painful to admit, even to himself, but he’s lonely. He made some friends in LA, just for him, never to be shared. An actual boyfriend once. Or maybe just a lover, Eddie’s never sure where the line started and ended. But he has a habit of pushing people away, doesn’t even know why he does it. Hurts just to hurt.

He glances at the letters on the table. The letter from Steve. 

The red light of the answerphone blinks at him, telling him the tape is full.

He sits down with a beer and a bag of pretzels and switches the television on, flicking through the channels until he finds the Wheel of Fortune; he and Wayne used to watch that together. 

He really should call Wayne.

It’s nearly eight o’clock. He’d have finished his vocal warm up by now, finished his stretches, gone for a piss before drinking more water, drinking more beer, finishing up with a line of something. Roadie hands him his guitar, the black Flying V, he runs some scales. Hears the chanting as the crowd get antsy while their techs do the last mic check and clear the stage. Jeff is always first so the wall of sound has already built before Eddie walks out. A crushing roar that rumbles deep in his chest before he even strikes the first chord.

The crowd applaud as Gary from Sioux Falls solves the phrase: There’s No Place Like Home.

Eddie gets up for another beer. Comes back with two.

[ochrearia]

RBG ART PROMPTS LIST

All of these are things I'm pulling from my Poly Propaganda fanfic series because there are an alarming amount of drawable parts, either super vague or super specific lets get it.

(THIS POST WILL BE UPDATED WITH EACH NEW PART THAT COMES OUT BY THE WAY)

Part One:

BF smacking his dumbass leg straight into a metal pole while he daydreams about smooching GF and Pico

BF confined to the bed with an ice pack on said pole-smashed leg like a doofus

Part Two:

3. Pico relenting to GF holding his head in her hands, pushing his cheeks into the touch

4. Yourself shaking BF by the shoulders (THINK, MARK) telling him to snap out of his stupid fears

5. Pico and GF littering BF's cheeks with kisses after the scare

Part Three:

6. "I'm going to kiss the shit out of you if you keep this up." "Maybe that's what I want, hitman."

7. Little spoon BF big spoon Pico

Part Four:

8. Pico flaunting his new chromatics with a smug ass look and a mic

9. BF and GF with flushed faces because Pico's voice is hot

10. Pico laughing his ass off because he's got simps for his voice

Part Five:

11. Pico and BF fighting over the TV remote like toddlers

12. BF being an asshole abusing the fact Pico is ticklish

13. GF happy and indulging in the laughter of her boys

14. Any one of the three laughing w/ the provided synesthesia-induced colors

Part Six:

15. Pico gently holding a """"sleeping"""" GF in his lap while he talks out loud about how he's grown to love her

Part Seven:

16. BF and Pico riled up and pissed about some prick insulting GF

17. GF using her demon wings and purr to cuddle and placate them both

18. Flustered Pico because BF and GF always gang up to tease him

Part Eight:

19. BF being held by Pico and GF while he rides out a bad day

Part Nine:

20. All of the kisses in this part honestly there's a handful

21. Goofy smile and happy Pico because he's got silly butterflies in his stomach while he gets kissies

Part Ten:

22. 3 tired idiots in their sleepwear trying to unpack boxes

23. Trio piled together on a blanket-less bed, BF and Pico using GF's arms as pillows

Part Eleven:

24. FRIDAY NIGHT PAMPERIN'

25. "You can't go from frat boy to horrendously homosexual in two seconds!" "Waaa waaa it’s called bisexuality you ginger homophobe, pick a struggle goddamn."

26. GF and Pico taking the wildest double takes after BF admits to loving hearing them laugh

27. Pico whacking the shit out of BF with a pillow for the prior comment

Part Twelve:

28. BF and GF holding onto Pico for dear life while a thunderstorm goes off outside

Part Thirteen:

29. Absolute menace BF abusing the fact Pico and GF get all hot bothered and weak to his neck kisses

30. GF and Pico turning the tables immediately in revenge flustering the fuck out of BF

Part Fourteen:

31. BF's dream sequence

32. Yourself helping BF calm down + hug + Silly Billy music box lullaby

33. GF telling Yourself she's proud of him (accidentally sets him on an immediate spiral to a breakdown)

Part Fifteen:

34. Literally any of the three struggling with being touch-starved. Pick one or all

Part Sixteen:

35. Pico having a mental crisis over possibly being in love with both BF and GF

36. GF and BF comforting Pico after his outburst-breakdown

37. "Wanna be in a poly relationship with us?" "I'm scared about being in a relationship again but yes, yes I want to so badly"

Part Seventeen:

38. CUDDLE SANDWICH.

39. Pico hugging BF and/or GF like it's his last second alive

40. BF and GF joke fighting over who'd get to keep Pico in their pocket

Part Eighteen:

41. BF and GF dancing all silly in golden hour light

42. "My heart. My home. Together you are both, two people together as one. Where my love lies."

43. BF kissing the breath out of Pico

44. Stupid lovesick idiot snuggle pile

Part Nineteen:

45. Pretty tooth gap smile Pico

46. BF menace-ry

47. Puppy dog eyes GF

Part Twenty:

48. GF with her demonic features out being a hot girlboss

49. Dumbfounded BF having the hots for GF lmfao. Pico "Close your mouth BF fuck's sake"

50. Literally any part of the flirting. Jesus christ.

Part Twenty-One:

51. Koala-bear cuddly Pico

52. BF and GF reminiscing, also trying to get their stupid ginger to SLEEP DAMMIT

Part Twenty-Two:

53. Cherryblast kisses

54. BF dumbass smoking cigarettes and being distracted by random trinkets

55. BF MELTING TO UNDER-JAW KISSES

Part Twenty-Three:

56. Yourself/Silly Billy sticking halfway out the mirror talking to BF

57. BF absolutely yapping about being in love like a FREAK

58. Pico and GF in an absolute trance because Boyfriend.XML yaps. Literal heart eyes

Part Twenty-Four:

59. GF in BF's shirt

60. BF in Pico's sweater

61. Pico being an absolute sucker for both of them

Part Twenty-Five:

62. Pico and Nene about to kill the shit out of each other

63. "I DO NOT HAVE A LOVERBOY VOICE" -Pico, lying,

64. Darnell and Nene just being amused as fuck over how lap-dog core their friend has become

65. But in the same vein D and N are secretly really happy for Pico so it works out

Part Twenty-Six:

66. Pico losing it over the realization his two special someones trust him with their lives

67. Demon weighted blanket GF for Pico

68. BF spouting "I love you" over and over to the sleeping Pico in his arms

Part Twenty-Seven:

69. Pico calling BFGF freaks and attacking them /silly

70. BFGF with knowing looks watching Pico lean into their hands without thinking about it

Part Twenty-Eight:

71. Hypothetically, RGB existing as space debris for the rest of their lives, because they'd rather be together than alone

72. BF singing without his auto-tune microphone and absolutely enamoring GF and Pico

73. Pico kissing the knuckles of BF's hand because he would be a hand kisser.

Part Twenty-Nine:

74. Pico drowning in his own guilt and fear of being controlling over BF and GF

75. Yourself and Pico staring each other down like the stubborn shits they are

76. BF and GF terrified while Pico breaks down in their arms because seeing him upset makes them upset too

Part Thirty (M FOR SEXUAL CONTENT):

77. I mean it's just 1.8k words of body worship as of last update. Just any part of it tbh. Pico gets fucked up by GF and BF LMAOOOO

Part Thirty-One:

78. Pico completely asleep and being GF's personal teddy bear

79. GF using her magic to remove her offending musical emotions out of her head and glaring at them in the air

80. Pico having a heart attack over the form of how GF sees him, holding it to his chest and being so fucking in love

81. Pico also exploding into a blush because BF and GF kiss his musical self

Part Thirty-Two:

82. BF cuddled up against Pico's sweater nuzzling his nose in it

83. GF and Pico sad/angry that the world taught BF his birthday wasn't important

Part Thirty-Three:

84. Pico just horrendously collapsed on the couch because he can no longer move bitch is TIRED

85. BF CARRYING PCIO BRIDAL STYLE WHILE HE YELLS ABOUT NOT NEEDING TO BE CARRIED (he does)

86. Shy Pico soaking in the hot bath when BF and GF beg him to let them take care of him

87. All three of them in bed, Pico's nose pushed into BF's thigh while GF rubs his bare back in comfort

88. Pico squeezing the life out of an M-Raptor plushie

89. Freckle kisses...

Part Thirty-Four:

90. GF "I want to hold", BF "I want to be held", Pico "Both"

91. Pico losing the war against being sappy

92. GF in the kitchen with her scented candle hoard

Part Thirty-Five:

93. Pico singing to a "sleeping" BF

94. BF and GF arguing like an old married couple over who gets to be serenaded by Pico while he just sits there dying of embarrassment

95. Pico giving in and singing to both of them

Part Thirty-Six:

96. BF and GF flirting with each other calling each other pretty

97. A dozing Pico, comforted by his partners being flirty and loving behind him

98. Pico getting 3 seconds of victory by making BF blush calling him a pretty boy

99. GF giving Pico chin scritches that he enjoys far too much

100. BF getting Pico back, calling him a pretty boy and making him red in the face instead

Part Thirty-Seven:

101. Koala-Bear Pico with GF while she sleeps and he cuddles her for comfort

102. BF with Pico in his arms, petting comforting patterns into his back and singing the song "i5 pt. 2" to him with his real voice

103. Hypothetical post-fic trio cuddle pile where they're all tangled up in each other

Part Thirty-Eight:

104. Full demon mode GF with the black and red monarch butterfly patterned wings

105. Demon GF's lavender skin glowing with magic as she leaks the song of her emotions out into the air

106. Hurt/Comfort on the balcony, GF crying while clinging to BF and Pico

107. RGB back in bed cuddling with GF in the middle this time, for once

Part Thirty-Nine:

108. I mean. It's literally just about PicoBF and PicoGF makeouts... Staring directly into the camera like it's the office

109. But also BF calling Pico a "Needy Little Thing" on purpose

Part Forty:

110. More YS and BF shenanigans

111. BF bouncing around like an excited puppy about his poem

112. Pico not being able to Handle Poetry Written About Him

113. Storm of Demon Kissies for the boys!!!

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Week Three: Masterlist

Week Three is over! We're over halfway finished now. You all did so great, and I appreciate your participation so much! This week, we covered 7 prompts and there were 53 total entries: 52 Fics Written, 0 Pieces of Art & 1 Other Works submitted.

Don't forget there is also an AO3 Collection if you'd like to use it!

Color-Coded Ratings Key: General, Teen, Mature, Explicit.

Day Fourteen: And the Winner Is...

Fic Submissions:

take a break to win by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 773 | CW: exhaustion | Tags: overworking, famous corroded coffin, friendship

JULY 14: and the winner is... by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 982 | CW: Strong language, a lot of American football talk and subsequent confusion | Tags: Jeff (Richardson is his last name in this particular story), Eddie, Gareth and Grant, and one very badass Violet Richardson, Jeff's eldest daughter

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 14 - And the Winner Is... by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 616 | Tags: Angst, brief FOI references, introduction of Phil the Manager, Wayne being the best uncle/dad in the world

Getaway Car by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Mild Sexual Themes, Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Steve is to Corroded Coffin Music Videos as Alicia Silverstone was to Aerosmith Videos in the 90s

My Occupation is Syncopation by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Steddie (background) | Tags: banter, Gareth wears glasses, not as often as he should, 90s Corroded Coffin

Day 14: And the Winner Is… by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 518 | CW: mention of poverty and bullying | Pairing: Jason Carver x Tammy Thompson (bear with me here) | Tags: Jason Carver, Tammy Thompson, Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin, Grammys, 1990s

The New Generation by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | Pairing: Hellcheer | Tags: It's time for a new generation to take on the talent show at Hawkins Middle School

Day Fifteen: Let's Talk About That Fic Submissions:

homework by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 990 | CW: none | Tags: therapy, gareth pov, personal growth, self-discovery

JULY 15: let's talk about that by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Dustin Henderson. That’s pretty much it. He’s the content warning. Eddie should know better than to listen to his wildly overconfident ideas. There’s also a mention of fire and injury, but no one is seriously hurt. | Tags: Corroded Coffin, Hellfire boys, Nancy Wheeler

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 15 - Let's Talk About That by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 994 | Tags: Older!Eddie, Wayne, Angst, hurt no comfort, death and grief, Eddie-centric, dialogue heavy, Jo pulls a Flanagan for the umpteenth time

Got You Good, Kid by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: CW: Language, Smoking, Mentions of Unplanned Pregnancy, Eddie Being a Bit Lot of a Dick | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/OFC (Off-Screen), Background Steddie | Tags: Modern Day Setting, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie and Gareth are BFFs, But Gareth's Keeping Secrets, So They're Fighting, Fucking Interviewers, Fucking Paparazzi, Fucking Eddie

Day 15: Let's Talk About That by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 877 | CW: mention of vomiting and getting sick (not described), stage fright, takes place in 2024, older Corroded Coffin, loosely based on Joseph Quinn's Tonight Show experience | Tags: Eddie Munson, Jeff, Grant, Gareth, talk show, flashbacks

Stream Punk by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | Pairing: Eddie x Reader | Tags: Modern AU - Corroded Coffin hosts a live stream and fans notice you walk through the background

Day Sixteen: Struggling Fic Submissions:

always struggling by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 971 | CW: none | Tags: steddie, post-break up, modern era, open ending but assume they get back together, pre-famous corroded coffin

JULY 16: struggling by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 911 | CW: Strong language, tiny bit of angst, surgery mention but no graphic depictions of, don't worry | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 16 - Struggling by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 901 | Tags: Modern!Corroded Coffin, Older!Corrded Coffin, memes, friendship, bickering and banter, pop culture/social media reference (link at the end of the fic)

Headlines by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Substance Abuse, Addiction, Minor Mention of Pregnancy | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC, Off-Screen), Minor Steddie | Tags: Clawing Your Way Out Of Rock Bottom, Tough Love, But Love

Day 16: Struggling by @munson-blurbs | Rating: M | WC: 877 | CW: drug abuse (cocaine), alcohol abuse, addiction, some comfort | Tags: Eddie Munson, Jeff, Grant, Gareth, Corroded Coffin, Wayne Munson, addiction, drug and alcohol abuse, tour life

Disenchanted Lullaby by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: depression, chronic pain, referenced drug use | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, slice of life, introspection, the comedown after touring, loneliness, ennui

This One's For You by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 658 | CW: Language | Tags: A letter from Eddie to you. Yes, YOU.

Day Seventeen: "This One's For You" Fic Submissions:

love doesn't wait by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: M | WC: 685 | CW: implied/referenced sex | Tags: famous corroded coffin, side steddie, jeff's love story, love confessions

Serenade by @medusapelagia | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: None | Pairing: Steddie

JULY 17: this one's for you by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 969 | CW: Grief, loss of a friend | Tags: Hurt/no comfort, Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Elliot

Stayin' Alive by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie, Mention of Pre-Robin/Vickie | Tags: Post S4, But Eddie Lives, But Is Still Recovering, Getting Together, First Kiss, The Band Has a Surprise For Eddie at The Hideout, Steve Harrington Just Wants To Help, Henderson Too

Know When To Hold 'em by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 999 | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

Day 17: This One's For You by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 541 | CW: I cried writing this, canon-compliant, breaking the fourth wall | Tags: Eddie Munson, love letter, fanfic writers

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 17 - This One's For You by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 638 | Tags: Grief, Peace, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intentionally Left Vague, Character Death (You can read it as Eddie visiting his mom OR Jeff visiting Eddie.)

Rock 'n Roll All Night (Or Until Bedtime) by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: G | WC: 1000 | CW: None | Pairing: Eddie x Reader | Tags: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

Day Eighteen: Freak Fic Submissions:

Get Lucky by @mrsjellymunson | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: longing, self-deprecation, ogling, allusions to sex | POV: Grant (Unnamed Freak) | Tags: Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, The Hideout

frankie by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: M | WC: 930 | CW: temporary character death | Tags: canon-adjacent events, frankie pov, eddie munson lives

JULY 18: grant by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: chronic illness, celiac disease (which was fucking hard to get a diagnosis in the 90s), a tiny mention of weight loss if you squint, food aversion | Tags: Grant (Unnamed Freak), Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff, gn!Reader

Charles III by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: None | Tags: Band Practice, Goodie & Gareth, The Birth of a Nickname, He's Goodie Goodwin the First

The fourth member of the band by @medusapelagia | Rating: T | WC: 994 | CW: None | Pairing: Freak & Eddie

Day 18: Freak by @munson-blurbs | Rating: G | WC: 643 | CW: canon scene, Grant (Freak) is neurodivergent, anxiety | Tags: Grant, Eddie Munson, Gareth, Jeff, Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Hellfire, Corroded Coffin

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 18 - Freak by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 961 | Tags: Friendship, new friends, a bit of self deprecation, teenage angst, typical teenage snark, Freak #3 is named Dave, whats the friendship thing where you think someone's a raging bitch/asshole and then that ends up being your best friend? yeah that...

Hello, I've Waited Here For You by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: period typical attitudes to women, period typical homophobia, internalised fat shaming, period typical sexism, sexist language | POV: Matt (Freak) | Pairing: Steddie, Matt/OC | Tags: Falling in love, CC is a family, secret relationship

That's Not My Name by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 687 | CW: Language | Pairing: None | Tags: Why is it that no one knows his name?

Other Submissions:

Eugene Faulkner: Fluff Alphabet @hawkinsmafia | Other Type: Character Alphabet | Rating: G | CW: None | Pairing: Eugene Faulkner x Reader (no assumed gender)

Day Nineteen: In the Garage Fic Submissions:

from garage to library by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: M | WC: 930 | CW: mild language | Tags: they're really just trying to make it, they're all idiots

JULY 19: in the garage by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Some douchebag neighbor (typical Hawkins), strong language. No slurs but the dude isn’t real nice. Hashtag SatanicPanic | Tags: Corroded Coffin, Tim Emerson, Douchebag neighbor Marty (def not based on a real life douchebag neighbor Marty from my childhood or anything, nooo)

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 19 - In the Garage by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 690 | Tags: Older!Corroded Coffin (it's the late 90s...), the pure boys will be boys energy, car speak thats probably wrong

Sweet Talkin' Lola by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Jeff | Pairing: None | Tags: S4, "Welcome to Hellfire" Missing Scene, Misheard Lyrics, Band Practice

Day 19: In the Garage by @munson-blurbs | Rating: G | WC: 732 | CW: Principal Higgins is an ass, anxiety about being accepted, divergent from FoI | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Jeff, Grant, Principal Higgins, Corroded Coffin

Untitled by @br0ck-eddie | Rating: T | WC: 322 | Pairing: None

Check Him Out by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 977 | CW: Language | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | Tags: Eddie gets a nice surprise at work when you come in with a car problem.

Day Twenty: Under the Covers Fic Submissions:

under the covers by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: E | WC: 962 | CW: angst with an unhappy/open ending | Tags: friends with benefits, gareth/eddie, unrequited feelings, anal sex, mention of steddie

JULY 20: under the covers by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 944 | CW: Protected p in v sex, angsty sex, the accidental slip of someone else’s name | Tags: Gareth Emerson x fem!reader, Gareth x unnamed female groupie

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 20 - Under the Covers by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 937 | Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC | Tags: Unofficial official Hymn of Heaven, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie is simping hard, Fluff, allusion to monsters and nightmares, DnD references

Louisiana Rain by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex, Brief Mentions of Past Trauma/Loss | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC) | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Marriage, Post-Corroded Coffin, Gareth & Eddie are BFFs, Traveling Sucks, Delayed Flights, Coming Home, That Middle of the Night Quiet

Untitled by @br0ck-eddie | Rating: T | WC: 308 | Pairing: None

Day 20: Under the Covers by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 656 | CW: None | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, Erica Sinclair, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, birthday party, cover band

Safe Haven by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: G | WC: 922 | CW: fear of thunderstorms | Pairing: None | Tags: fear of thunderstorms

Rambin' Gamblin' Man by @dreamwatch | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: period typical homophobia (alluded to) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, sharp suits, Steve Harrington is stupid for Eddie Munson, Fluff but make it lustful

[jaidens]

Hello sweety 🤍

Can I request headcanons or a prompt about Dean Winchester dating a female nephilim? She's the daughter of lucifer but tries to live like a normal human being. Though sometimes her powers go crazy and she struggles with handling them.

Have a lovely day and drink enough!!

the only bad you've ever done was to see the good in me

pairing [s] : dean winchester x reader

warning [s] : nothing | this isn't really good i apologize 😭🙏

a/n [s] : ty for the request sweets! have a great day too!

“Dean,” He hears his name called with a terrified shout and a yell. “I can't stop it!” Dean runs to your room, as your eyes flick between red and your natural color. Sam is standing there, almost completely terrified as he is staring at Dean. You're in the middle of the floor, with your knees curled up to your chest.

“C'mon look at me!”

He sits down in front of you, grabbing your hands in his. You thrash your head against the bed and yell as you hold back the strength that attempts to get at Dean.

Dean always loved your eyes, catching himself staring at them while you watched as the sun sets. Sitting on the hood of the Impala, drinking from a soda. The way he swore they glittered in the reflection of the ocean that rides waves. You would always get angry at his staring. With a smile and a laugh, you'd cover your face and tell him: “Stop staring Dean. Take a picture it'll last.” He thought they were filled with life, understanding, and the answer key to what he craved in his life. Love.

Your hands shake as they grab onto his grayish blue jacket feverishly. The lights swing and flicker as the pain starts to worsen. The headache rings in your head and you look terrified. “Dean it hurts! What is happening?!” Dean tries to hold your thrashing arms with his, tugging you close to him.

It was a successful hunt. You saved a family from being killed for revenge, the pride that fulfills you makes a permanent smile on your face. You were sixteen years old; same as the boy who is relaxing with the gun in his hand. “Dean, let's get home c’mon.” Dean kisses your temple and lets you carry him to the Impala where Sam and John are already turning over the engine. Your arms are soft and warm, pulling him into a deep sleep.

“It’s okay. Breathe, sweetheart.” Dean hides the way his voice quivers and how he shakes as you try and reach your breath that seems worlds apart. The lights that hang almost slam against the ceiling before they're relaxed, only moving slightly. Your eyes are back to the way Dean loves them, how he knows them, how he's memorized them.

“Dean!” You shout at him, getting twisted in the creme-colored sheets that are laid on the bed messily. After an unforgettable night, Dean woke you up with soft neck kisses and his hands tickling your side. “Stop!” He stops for a second and admires you. You lay in the natural sun that seeps through the curtains, letting it shine into your eyes and he can see every color that blings in the light.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I don't know how—” You try to apologize before you're cut off by Dean shushing you. You flinch when he goes to hold you closer to him, letting his head go in between your neck and shoulder. Your heartbeat is still jumping out of your chest as you attempt to calm down.

“It’s okay.” Dean tells you while Sam leaves, shutting the door on his way out. “I swear, it's fine. I will always be here for you.” You're watching him and the way he messes with the t-shirt that is his that hangs down to on your thighs.

“I almost think I'm good sometimes. Then, I swear he wants to remind me where I come from. A horrible person.” The words make Dean frown, and shake his head in disagreement.

Dean has a scrapped palm and knees. You're running after him on the playground when he fell. You run to him, sit down, and wipe off the rubble that connects to his skin. “Are you okay!? I’m sorry, I didn't even realize about the bump there.” Dean shakes his head in disagreement and stands up with your help. “It’s okay. I’m fine ... now .. tag you're it!”

“You’re better than half of this damn Earth. Don't you say that. The only wrong thing you've done is saying that you're a bad person.”

There's a box of kittens in an alleyway as you and Dean attempt to find evidence for the hunt. You immediately stop everything to go investigate the cardboard box with ‘FREE’ labeled on the front. “No, Y/N. We aren't taking them.” Dean tells you firmly and you look up at him and cross your arms. “Well, we can't leave them. Let's at least take them to the animal shelter, so they won't freeze out here tonight.” That's where Dean remembered why he fell in love with you.

You kiss Dean, hand gliding up his shoulder and relaxing. “I’m sorry— thank you. I'm tried really hard, I'm sorry.” You apologize and Dean gives you a smile, lips curling up.

Dean Winchester wasn't a good person by any means, but you made him a better person. Even if you weren't biologically, the way he holds you in his arms while kissing the top of your head makes you understand differently. The words you and him share are sacred to your heart. “Thank you.” Is all you say to him as he closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

This is how you fell in love. With his dumb and stupid self, with perfect everything and magical hands for not just 1967 Impalas. Dean was your better half, and truly, you couldn't find anyone else to fill that void in your heart.