#so many fics are gonna be written with that prompt now

[wecoudvebeenballsdeep]

Chat GPT about to be the most inspirational prompt author after that

[hidey-writes]

six sentences saturday

That night, Shen Wei’s squadron tent is uncomfortably quiet with Yan-wuzhang’s bunk empty beside the door. Shen Wei lies in bed, eyes on the fifth bunk that had belonged to Xiao Four, before the Snake Tribe boy had gotten so badly hurt in a battle that he’d been called home. It’s long since been stripped of bedding. They’d needed the cloth over in the infirmary. The stack of papers Xiao Four had stacked carefully at his bedside is also long gone, letters from his parents and older sister back home that he’d kept. Letters that Xiao Four had let Shen Wei read through once when he’d asked to, just to see what it was like.

from the second draft of the pride fic. drafting ... continues. so slowly, though the quality of what's appearing is kind of a pleasant surprise - the scene i wrote today is much closer (80%?) to a final draft than everything else i've got so far. unfortunately, i've had to scrap the working title completely and i don't know what to call this guy anymore. fortunately, i am hurting my own feelings so so bad while writing this and having an excellent time!

[gothcsz]

𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — made by yours truly 🖤

hiiii 🖤 alright you guys, i’m just gonna go ahead and say that i haven’t been in this fandom for long… like at all (five months give or take… she’s just a baby!) so i don’t have many works yet, but @jolapeno was kind enough to tag me in this amazing idea of hers, so i had to jump on it! it’s hard for me to compliment myself, and the imposter syndrome do be kicking my ass when i see/read all the beautiful fics that get written and posted (for free, mind you) on the daily—but i will say i haven’t had this much fun in fandom in so long, so for that, i thank all of you for making my experience so nice 🖤 on top of participating in this self lovin’ tootathon, i have also just hit a follower milestone that genuinely brings tears to my eyes! who would have thought that me thirsting over my favorite fictional man would bring so many readers, friends, and overall cool people my way? not me, that’s for sure! i’ve definitely grown as a writer in the small time that i’ve been here and have completely fallen in love with this hobby again, all thanks to the support from each and every single one of you. i appreciate you guys more than you know 🖤 (oh brother, she’s crying again. she being me) anywho, enough yapping, here’s a few of my faves from this year (these past 5 months) and why i love ‘em so much

𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 (they're not finished i knowww sorryyyyy but my god do i love them all) :

thoroughfare — i say this all the time but fuck, dude, this fic is the reason i even decided to start posting my writing in this fandom. it's based off this story i wrote almost two years ago and everything about it is so near and dear to my heart. the horror/thriller aspect of it, my side characters, the world building, javier and paloma's relationship, javier's entire characterization... *sighs lovingly* my beloved readers, you guys are literally so strong and have an extra special place in my heart for enjoying this story because i know it's kinda niche and not for everyone so, thank you for supporting your girl 🥹

fantasize — point me in the direction of a bigger ariana grande stan than me... right, right.... you can't! literally saw the music video for the boy is mine and immediately had to javier peña–fy it, lmfao! it was fun switching the roles and having the reader do the stalking and lying. these two freaks make my clit throb and i love their dynamic so. fucking. much. so hot! IS SOMEBODY GONNA MATCH MY FREAK? IS SOMEBODY GONNA MATCH MY NASTY? so glad gatita finally got that ring 💍

unscripted desire — 😏 this fic put me on the map, lowkey, so for that i am forever grateful! what started off as a silly little prompt has now turned into a full blown fic that, to me personally, gives off major rom com vibes, aha. i think reader here is my absolute fave because she's so stubborn and just a badass! sometimes i feel like javi is a little too ooc but then i read everyone's comments and i'm like okay nvm i'm just in my head 🖤

neighbors series — this one right here is amazing because of how collaborative it is between myself and my anons/readers like every time i get a prompt/idea for it in my inbox, i literally lose my mind because it's so good. the yearning, the angst, the drama... bro, i compare it in my head to euphoria s2 and how everyone was watching the new episodes every sunday, live tweeting/blogging what was happening and having discourse around it. that's how i feel every time i post for our neighbors, i literally love interacting with all of you! this is our novela fr

𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 / 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 :

𝐈𝐈𝐈. i wake up in the middle of the night thinking about fucking/dating modern day marcus acacius and lucius verus. that is all. I LOVE THIS FIC SO BAD POSSIBLY MY BEST WRITING TO DATE. okay, sorry for the caps, i just had to say that lol

husband!javier peña seducing you at the bar pretending to be a stranger 🙂‍↕️

purgatory aka my threesome fantasy. i love women, halloween, and javier peña so this is just super indulgent for myself, hehe

worst behavior. something about javier peña being a secret service agent just really did it for me, i fear. plus, it was my first time participating in a writing challenge on here so consider that cherry popped!

javier peña has a panty kink. that is all.

once upon a time kat wrote for joel miller and there are times were i reread this and think 'wow, the things i'd do to have joel fuck me at a national park'

𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 / 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 :

being a secretary for javier peña and teasing the fuck out of him 🖤

a little webweaving-esque edit for neighbor!javi that i stare at all the time tbh

oh to be a black girl dating javier peña! there's a lot to be said about representation in fandom spaces in general, so to that i had to make something for my fellow black girls who might not feel very seen around here! i do plan on making more, and i love how romantic this moodboard came out

general moodboard for my fic thoroughfare that i think encapsulates the vibes pretty well, hehe

chapter eight moodboard for thoroughfare. i'm so in love with them

chapter nine moodboard for thoroughfare. the angst! the visuals are exactly what was in my head while writing it

western nights edit for thoroughfare. this song within the context of the fic is just chef's kiss! i love the photos i used here

𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 :

mis primas (gn), that's what you all are to me! i really wish i could tag each follower i have, each anon that's sent me fucking gold in my inbox, but alas i can't; so here are some of the people that make my heart go boom boom boom every time i see them in my notes or just people that i admire from afar 🖤 also consider this a tag to do this if you're a writer!

@almostempty , @auteurdelabre , @persephone-girl , @correapunk , @littlefruitbowl , @dontlookatme121 , @thundermartini , @joelmillerisapunk , @almostfoxglove , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @prose-before-hoes , @letsmeetintheafterglow , @yxtkiwiyxt , @ovaryacted , @bambisweethearts , @thereaperisabitch , @probablyreadinsmut , @itwasntimethatdidit40 , @pedgito , @joelsrose , @sanarsi , @maiamore , @penascigarette , @theetherealbloom , @swankyorange , @cowboy-like-m3 , @hoelaris , @king-simp , @wildemaven , @professionalpromqueen , @amanitacowboy , @sassyhonks , @syd-djarin , @angiewatson , @stargirlfics , @asobeeee , @kirsteng42 , @joelssluttyknee , @hotgirlbedtimescenarios , @javierpena-inatacvest , @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal , @jay-zzle , @miss-oranje-disco-dancer , @bbyanarchist , @greenwitchfromthewoods , @myownwholewildworld

if i forgot to tag you, i am so sorry okay! but just know: i see your comments ladies (gn), and they make me smile. i'm lurking and i'm stalking when you least expect it. but lately I've just been takin care of my business and gettin my grind up, but i promise you, i'll be back to play and get my flirt on 💋

[kikidoesfanfic]

>On Ao3<

-Good old fashioned Munson hospitality- Written for the lovely @jaytriesstuff for the @strangerthingswritersguild Winter Fic Exchange! Summary:

When Wayne sees Steve wandering injured down the side of the road, what else is he to do but take the kid home. AKA a post starcourt fix-it, because Steve needed taking care of, so he's gonna get taken care of.

"I can take the floor," Steve says, and it's absurd. The guy is absurd.

"You look like you lost a fight with a truck." Eddie says, trying not to let his incredulousness show through his voice, "you're taking the bed."

"S'just Russians, not a truck." Steve says, freezing immediately afterward, halfway climbed onto the bed.

"Russians?" Eddie prompts when he doesn't move for a few moments longer.

"You didn't hear that," Steve says sounding slightly panicked, so Eddie nods agreeably.

"Okay, well I'm rush'in you into bed so scoot. Go on sailor boy." And what a sailor boy he makes, Eddie's not going to admit out loud how many times he's visited the mall just to get a glimpse at Sailor Steve. The guys already give him enough shit for it.

"M'not anymore, it burnt down." And maybe Eddie needs to watch the news more often, because that's certainly news to him. Though Steve seems so out of it right now who knows if that's even true.

"Aw but I was looking forward to setting sail on the ocean of flavor with you, Captain." Eddie works his softest band tee over Steve's head, maneuvering his unresisting arms through the holes.

"I'll... sail on your ocean." Steve says nonsensically.

"I'm sure you will big guy." He ushers Steve into his bed, bringing a blanket over him from where he'd kicked it half off the mattress, tucking him in softly.

When Wayne had said they had a guest, he hadn't expected Steve Harrington to come stumbling out of their bathroom, shirtless with his hair dripping wet from the shower. He'd only had a second to appreciate the view of his own sweatpants hanging low on Steve's hips before his eyes tracked across to the watercolour spatter of deep bruising darkening across his ribs and stomach, and up to his absolutely messed up face, eye swollen shut and nose crooked.

"So," he says, collapsing onto the couch next to where his uncle is repacking their first aid kit. "How did he end up here?"

"He was staggerin' down the road dressed in a sailor outfit covered in blood an' god knows what else." Wayne heaves a sigh hand rubbing over his mouth before he continues, "I pulled up to ask if he was alright an' he said 'yes' like it was a question, like he didn't know why I was askin'."

"He tell you what happened? He seems to get in a lot of fights, Hargrove cleaned his clock not that long ago..."

"Mall burnt down, heard it on the radio." Ah, so that did happen, or maybe, because Wayne looks at him then, and Eddie knows he doesn't necessarily believe it. "He worked there, right? I heard enough from you about those sailor shorts the last few weeks."

"He did, yeah. But a fire didn't do that to him, Wayne, he has boot shaped bruises, and marks from restraints around his wrists that I watched you wrap myself." Eddie argues, ignoring the rest of it. The redness in his cheeks is from annoyance and nothing else. "And his pupils are all blown out, could be the concussion but he's acting so out of it. He did say it burnt down but, he also said something about Russians? There's not a burn on the guy."

"He said somethin' about Russians in the truck too, got real squirrely after." Wayne shakes his head, "nothin' for it now, maybe in a few days he'll be willin' to talk when his head's more straight."

"A few days?!"

"Ed, he came out of the mall lookin' like that and decided to walk home alone. He said his parents are home but that boy's a terrible liar, he's stayin' here until I can be sure he won't be found dead on the floor of that big house o' his." And it's a good point, it's kind of an open secret, Steve Harrington: big house, no parents. While it may have been great for the ragers King Steve used to host a year or two ago, it always sounded kind of lonely to Eddie. He and Wayne mostly cross paths on his days off and at meal times, when Wayne's leaving for a shift or making his way home, and Eddie wouldn't trade that time for anything.

Then again Wayne wasn't Richard and Delia Harrington, so who knows.

Still, Wayne's right, Steve isn't leaving until he's at least able to look after himself.

Which leaves plenty of time to dig into the mystery of the so called mall fire.

"Don't you go pesterin' that boy before he's ready, go get some sleep, I'll wake 'im up in an hour." Wayne says, because he knows Eddie well.

"Yeah yeah, leave the giant glaring mystery alone, but where am I gonna sleep? There's a sailor in my bed."

"Hes not dressed like a sailor anymore is he? pretty sure we're gonna have to burn that thing with how dirty it is." He says, ignoring Eddie's forlorn noise. "I'm sure the two of you can figure the rest out." Eddie ignores his knowing smile, it'd do no good to give the old man an ego.

"He's said he'd take the floor. Him. On the floor." He says, both to change the subject and have someone to share his indignance.

By the time they're finished talking, Steve's got two very concerned Munsons ready to eagle eye his every move.

~~~

When he tiptoes back into his room he expects Steve to be long asleep, looking like he could barely keep his eyes open before as it was. Instead as soon as Eddie looks at him his eye snaps closed like he doesn't want to be caught, tears silently tracking down his cheeks. Eddie's torn between pointing it out and letting him get away with it, but in the end he just can't let him cry alone.

"Hey, you alright?" Wow, great opener, Eddie thinks to himself with a mental face palm, because that one's not obvious at all what with all the injury and the tears. "Do you... need something?"

"Nah man, m'fine." One watery eye peers back at him, "s'nothing."

"Okay well, not that I don't trust you but, maybe I should be the judge of that?" Eddie says awkwardly, he's already known from watching Steve over the past year that he's not the same asshole he was when he hung with Tommy and Carol, but it's still weird to have him in his bed.

"Didn't know f'you were coming back." Eddie waits, sure more is coming, until he realises that maybe Steve just didn't want to be alone and didn't know how to ask. Or maybe he just assumed Eddie wouldn't want to stay.

Well he'll just have to keep him company then, anything to keep that sad little look off his face.

"Just had to check in with Uncle Wayne, he's gonna wake you up in an hour to keep an eye on your noggin." He explains, watching Steve get more comfortable, rubbing the less injured side of his face into one of Eddie's pillows.

"Kay," he says blinking slowly, quiet a while and Eddie could almost believe he was already asleep until, "s'nice."

"Hm? What's nice?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Your uncle."

"Oh. Yeah he's the best."

"S'friendly," he adds, and Eddie snorts, because usually the only word people use to describe Wayne Munson is gruff. Steve's frowning at him now, an almost stubborn pout on his face. "He is," he insists.

"Sure he is, when he likes someone well enough."

"Oh, then why-" he shakes his head, sighing heavy and impatient before Eddie can figure out what he meant. "M'tired."

"Yeah? Well, how about you get some sleep?" Eddie pushes Steve's still slightly damp hair out of his face, lets himself indulge.

"You staying?"

"Yeah, I'll be just down there," he points a thumb over his shoulder and Steve's eye narrows.

"I'll go home," Steve slurs, and Eddie narrows his own eyes at him in return.

"What? No you won't."

"Get on th' bed."

"I am on the bed?" Eddie says, confused, and Steve groans at him, sounding so put out.

"Why're you being difficult. C'mere." He wiggles a bit, an innefectual attempt to move over and make some room Eddie assumes, and then pats the mattress next to him.

"Oh. If you wanted to cuddle you just had to say so Steve," he says, voice sly. And sue him, he's being a little more liberal with the flirty teasing than he would be if Steve was more himself, but it's not like he'll get another chance where he won't risk being punched in the face. Steve probably won't remember this come morning anyway.

"I want to cuddle, Eddie." Steve says dryly, slow and matter of fact.

And well. Eddie wasn't expecting that.

"J'st-" he slaps the bed beside him, sluggish and uncoordinated. The only reason Eddie follows the direction because it's pitiful. Really.

"Alright Stevie, keep your hair on." He sits down next to Steve, above the covers thank you he's a gentleman, and settles in against the wall. It's not late enough yet for him to sleep, maybe he'll read something if the light isn't too annoying for Steve to sleep through, though he looks about ready to drop off any second. The time his eye stays closed when he blinks is getting longer, but he's still staring fixedly at Eddie, like he's waiting for something.

Eddie must take too long to figure out what it is that he wants, because Steve huffs at him, sounding even more put out than before, shoving his forehead into Eddie's hip and mumbling something into the space between them too quiet to make out.

Leaving the lamp on, he figures Steve will tell him if he wants it off, he picks up the closest book. Opening it up he intends to read silently to himself, but after a moment of scanning through the first page Steve's arm slowly, cautiously, makes its way across his thighs, hand anchoring around his opposite hip like Eddie's an oversized teddy bear.

Freezing momentarily Eddie forces himself to relax when Steve's arm stiffens in response, lets one of his own hands drop next to Steve's head, fingers curling into the hair at the back of Steve's neck he clears his throat.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." He starts, and Steve melts into his side, prompting Eddie to continue with a hum. And continue he does, letting Steve drift off to the beginnings of Bilbo's adventure, anything else can wait.

~~~

Steve wakes with a groan, his head pounding and the sliver of light that managed to invade his blearily blinking eye before he snapped it back shut sending zaps of pain through his skull. He gives himself a moment to get oriented, inhaling the smell of the pillow his head's wedged against and getting a hit of tabacco, weed, and the same 3 in 1 his own hair currently smells of. A crime, but he'd had little other choice if he didn't want to leave all the blood in there.

So he is in the trailer, and it wasn't all an elaborate dream, then.

He can't remember all that much of the last... however many hours he's been here, getting flashes of memories of both Wayne and Eddie, of showering, of the little bit Wayne had made him eat- just enough so his stomach wasn't completely empty but his nausea wasn't set right back off- of Eddie's soft voice as his body finally felt safe enough to let him sleep.

He's not going to examine that one too closely yet.

The last thing he properly remembers is leaving the mall carpark, Robin and the kids having been bundled up one by one and driven off by their parents as dawn broke, until he realised there was no reason for him to wait anymore, and without his car keys the only thing to do was start walking.

When he'd left, he'd felt mostly fine. Sure his head hurt something fierce, and breathing didn't feel great, and his whole body was kind of aching and throbbing, but he could walk just fine.

A few miles down the road the adrenaline had finished wearing off and he'd felt a whole lot worse, the sun fully rising so he'd had to squint to see while the morning heat was beating down on him, turning his thoughts more and more soupy as time passed.

He knows he said and did some probably extremely embarrassing things yesterday, even before Eddie got home, that Wayne woke him up hourly for half the... day? Night? until he was deemed clear headed and coherent enough to sleep.

Sitting up makes his head spin, room tilting a little to the side as he makes himself stand up anyway. Eddie's gone, and Steve doesn't know why a small bubble of hurt has lodged itself in his sternum at that.

Sure, he's been coming by to scoops a lot the last few weeks and sure, maybe Steve's been flirting and sure, Eddie had responded by calling him 'pretty boy' that one time before scurrying out of the store like he was on fire. But it's not like Steve's exactly pretty right now.

"Oh hey, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Eddie says, and his voice is soft, mindful of Steve's head, even while his face is loud. "what are you doing up?"

"Giving you your bed back, thanks for that by the way, I owe you one." He walks while he talks, trying to look casual about it in spite of bumping his hip into the counter as he passes it.

"Just sit down dude, Wayne made eggs a minute ago, he's just grabbing your meds and shit from the truck."

"I don't- my meds?"

"Yeah he picked up some stuff for when you woke up."

"I-" before he can finish protesting the door opens, Wayne looking him up and down skeptically.

"Sit down before you fall down." Wayne says, heading to the stove and starting to plate up food around where Eddie is making coffee, they move around each other with ease, somehow staying out of each other's way even in the small kitchen.

"I'm good, really, see?" Steve gestures down at himself, trying to exude steadiness he doesn't feel, he's imposed for long enough. "Besides I was just about to get out of your hair."

"I don't have much of it for you to get into, kid, so y'might as well sit down." He looks up from where he's plating up scrambled eggs onto toast, pan in one hand and spatula in the other that he uses to point at Steve as he adds: "I'm not letting you outta my sight for a while yet."

Steve sits, because there's not much else to do in the face of Wayne Munson brandishing a spatula, and now that he can smell food and coffee his stomach is protesting, days without anything besides bin popcorn catching up to him.

"You're going back to bed after this," Eddie says placing a plate and coffee in front of him, "we have more of our book to get through."

"Oh," Steve says, fishing for any memory of what Eddie was reading beyond the feeling of fingers stroking through his hair and a warm melodious voice, "... Bilbo?"

"Yes!" Eddie almost shouts, catching himself at the last second and turning it into more of a stage whisper, "I'm gonna make a nerd of you yet Stevie." He murmurs, and Steve is so busy watching him he barely notices Wayne drop two painkillers down next to his plate, staring at Steve until he washes them down with a little coffee.

"Now, I have to head out, Ed'll keep an eye on you while I'm at work, there's Arnica in the bag, Ed can help you put that on-" "Waaayne." Eddie whines, but Wayne continues as if he hadn't said a word. "-before you two get back to bed." He ruffles Eddie's hair on the way past, does the same to Steve a moment later.

"Yeah yeah, Nurse Munson on the job, don't think I don't know what you're doing old man."

"I'll see you in the mornin' Steve." Wayne says before heading out the door, and it doesn't sound optional, so Steve answers:

"If you insist, Mr Munson," and gets a snort from Eddie for his trouble.

"Okay so," he starts, "what do you remember about the Hobbit?" Steve watches him talk more than listens to everything he says, catches something about Bilbo's dinner party and rowdy dwarves as Eddie takes their dishes over to wash in the sink, only pausing to tell Steve to 'keep his ass in his seat' when he makes to help, and continue on without missing a beat. Steve feels that warmth back in his chest, fiddles with the tube of Arnica just for something to occupy his hands so he won't tear up at the feeling of being cared for for the first time in god knows how long.

All he can think while Eddie ushers him back to bed is maybe... maybe staying one more day won't hurt.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Who's Counting?

Day #4 - Prompt: Eddie | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Famous Corroded Coffin, Older Steddie, Exes to Lovers, Let's Try This Again, One More Time

Hoping tonight won't be the night that his skin-fucking-tight leather pants split right up the asscrack when he squats down, Eddie drops into a crouch right in front of center stage. Looking into the eyes of the guy right in front of him.

And nearly falls into the pit. 

Steve Harrington is looking back at him. Older, and more gorgeous than ever. Looking right into Eddie's eyes the way he is, makes Eddie miss the next line, but he recovers, gripping the wedge monitor at his side to stand back up.

Turning his back on the crowd. On Steve. Again.

What the fuck?

This can't be happening.

They couldn't be together, but they couldn't be apart. Until they were, and now here Steve is. Forty-something, and fucking fine. 

Eddie finishes his song, the set, but he's off-balance. Rattled in a way he hasn't been on stage in decades. 

As soon as they step off the stage, Gareth slings his arm around Eddie's waist, leaning close, "So, what'd you do up there? Shit your pants? You froze like a goddamn rube."

Eddie laughs, but turns to look at his best friend, "Steve was right there."

"Oh fuck, goddamn. I'd rather have shit my pants than come face-to-face with any of my ex-lovers."

"Don't say lovers," Eddie says. He doesn't know what he and Steve Harrington were, but lovers sounds wrong. They were just two kids that couldn't make it work, no matter how hard they tried, or how many times.

"You gonna find him?" Gareth asks, like that's an actual option.

"In a crowd of forty-two thousand? Yeah, I'll get right on it," Eddie snaps, but yeah, of course he's going to do exactly that. He knows he is, Gareth knows he is, because he'll always go to Steve if there's a chance. Any chance.

"Yeah, okay. Don't get mobbed," Gareth says, squeezing Eddie's side with his hand way too hard, then he's gone.

Eddie's showered, pulled his hair up off his neck, and is standing outside the venue, watching the remaining crowd slowly file out. Stragglers. 

Steve's gone. Steve's always been gone. 

Just out of his grasp, never his to hang onto for long.

Eddie pushes off the wall, turns the corner of the arena, and down in the distance is a familiar figure, leaning against the wall.

Eddie laughs, and the sound must echo and carry, because Steve turns to look at him.

"Wrong side!" Eddie yells, pointing at the building as he jogs towards Steve.

"We always were out of sync like that," Steve says as soon as Eddie's approaches, standing straight and opening his arms. Eddie barrels into him, hugging him around the neck.

"Good to see you," Eddie says, because it is. It hurts, it always hurts, always will, but it's been way too long. 

"You too, Eddie," Steve answers, pressing his face to Eddie's neck.

He smells good, his hairspray and cologne, familiar. 

Eddie pulls back before he does anything stupid.

"How's the missus?" Eddie asks, holding onto Steve's elbows.

"Ex-missus, these days," Steve says, and it feels like Eddie's heart turns over in his chest.

"Oh, I hadn't heard that. I'm sorry," Eddie says, even if he's not sorry, not really. That's not true. He wants Steve to be happy, and he thought he would be when he got married. Both times.

Steve smiles, "Thanks. It's not new news. Not now. I figured Henderson told you."

Henderson definitely did no such thing, the little prick. 

"He didn't," Eddie answers, "and he'll pay for that."

Steve laughs, "Don't be too hard on him. You know he was just trying to avoid implosion number, what would it be now, six?"

Eddie grins. Six, eight, ten, who's counting?

"Wanna get a drink? Talk about which accelerant we should try this time?"

Steve laughs, and gives him that warm smile he's missed so goddamn much, "Definitely."

Eddie's hand is high on Steve's thigh in the fancy hotel bar, in a secluded room Eddie's name opened the door to, with ease. 

It feels different this time, easier, and Eddie hopes that this is not just his big fucking blindspot for Steve Harrington rearing it's ugly head.

"You got a room upstairs?" Steve asks.

And the grin on Eddie's face feels ear-to-ear and wicked, "You know I do, big boy."

Eddie drags his tongue up Steve's belly, and maps all the changes. 

"What happened here?" Eddie asks, running his tongue over a new scar. Healed, but fresher than the bat bites. 

"Appendix burst. Nearly died," Steve says, like that isn't the most horrifying thing Eddie's ever heard.

Eddie whines, and Steve laughs, "I'm fine. You're being dramatic. Just like Robin was about it."

Eddie's not. He knows he's not, and neither was Robin. But at least she got to know.

"Oh, you almost died and nobody told me. That's cool. Love that," Eddie says, sarcastic. 

"If it'd gotten bad, somebody would have called you," Steve assures, and Eddie isn't sure that's true. Not anymore.

Eddie doesn't want to talk about it, though. So, he runs his rough fingers over Steve's chest, making sure there isn't anything else new he needs to know about. Not finding anything, he leans down and kisses Steve's stomach, loving the feel of the rough hair under his mouth. 

He's missed Steve. All of him, and he hadn't been prepared for him to stumble back into his life after all this time. It'd been too long, he thought Steve was married, again, and Eddie would never be over it, over him, even if he'd learned to do without him. Had to. He hadn't had a choice.

And now here Steve is, back under Eddie's hands. 

"I've missed you," Eddie says, and Steve cards his hand through Eddie's hair, grinning.

"Me too, Eddie. Think we can do it this time?"

Eddie has no fucking clue. History says no, but his heart says yes, so he looks right in Steve's eyes, smiles, and declares, "Fuck yeah, we will."

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! 🦇

[alwaysurvalentine]

the luck I've had can make a good man turn bad - fic

Written for Day 5 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths - word count: 4.1k (this one got away from me) - cw: some cussing, allusions to parents fighting in another room, allusions to money issues, bullying mentioned (nothing graphic)

enjoy! 💛

When Eddie is five years old, his Uncle Wayne takes him to the aquarium. He talks the entire car ride, reading out the road signs they pass and counting the dashes in the road. He’s so excited that he doesn’t have to play the Quiet Game on the way there that he doesn’t even question it when Wayne comes to pick him up.

Eddie’s Mama helped him pack a bag and said he gets to stay with his Uncle Wayne the whole weekend, he’s so excited! Uncle Wayne always lets him stay up late and tells the best bedtime stories. 

They’ve been on the road for a couple hours when they end up in a city. Uncle Wayne says it’s Louisville, but all Eddie can focus on is the tallest buildings he’s ever seen his whole life. They can fit millions of people in there! When he voices this, Wayne says only a couple thousand are in there. Which is basically the same thing - but Eddie’s not gonna correct his math when he sees them pulling into a Denny’s parking lot.

“We get to have Denny’s?! You’re the bestest!!!!” Eddie’s already unbuckling his belt by the time Wayne’s at his door, opening it to help him out. “Can I get pancakes? Please, please, please!” 

Another chuckle and a shake of the head is his response from Wayne, who’s holding out a hand for Eddie to grab. They cross the parking lot together, Eddie skipping with a toothy grin. 

“Well, go on then, find us a table.” At his uncle’s words, Eddie’s brown eyes scan the room. There’s a few tables next to the windows, but most of those already have people there - and then he sees it. The best table ever. It’s closer to the middle of the room but it’s got two booth seats opposite each other. Perfect for him and his Uncle Wayne! He darts over without saying anything and Wayne follows, slower, but still with a quirk of his lip that Eddie’s Mama said means he’s smiling.

He can’t read the whole menu, but he finds chocolate chip pancakes based on the picture on the side - which he points to when he orders from the nice lady named Sarah. When it’s Wayne’s turn to order he just gets nasty coffee. (Eddie snuck a sip of his mama’s cup once - it tastes like dirt.) 

~

“WHAT is THAT?” Eddie yells - tiny finger pointed at the whale shark swimming above them. A couple of people around them turn to look at him when he yells, but Wayne doesn’t seem bothered - pointing at the words on the wall. 

“This says it’s a whale shark. They’re the biggest sharks in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?” 

~

There’s a stuffed whale shark in the gift shop when they’re leaving. Eddie’s seen so many fish today, but none of them were nearly as cool as the whale shark. His eyes find it, and before he knows it his legs have carried him over to the stack of them. A couple friendly clown fish sit nearby, but nothing interests him as much as the whale shark. It looks like it’s the size of his bed, but he doesn’t care - he has to take this home. Mama and him can lay on it when she sings him to sleep and he can cuddle up with it when Mama and Dad get loud in the living room. 

“Eddie? What’d you find?” Eddie grins up at Wayne, smiling big enough to cause his dimples to show. He’s holding on to one of the sharks now, and he was right, it’s bigger than he is. The tail is bent slightly on the ground with his arms wrapped around its sewn gills. 

“I love him. Can we get him Uncle Wayne? Mama would love him! I know he’s not as big as the real thing but this will help her believe me when I tell her it was the size of a car! Dad might even like him, since sharks are the coolest animal.” 

As Eddie rambles, Wayne checks the price tag dangling off of the shark’s front fin. He knew his nephew was going to ask for something from the gift shop, and if this had been a planned visit instead of a quick phone call from Eddie’s mom type of visit, he might’ve had the money. But as it was, the only thing he knew for sure he could afford was the tiny key chain he’d grabbed on his way over to find Eddie. Now it’s just trying to convince Eddie that the keychain is just as cool.

~

Eddie’s pouting in his car seat, brown eyes focused on the trees outside instead of singing along to the station Wayne turned on to the radio. He did buy the keychain but that didn’t stop the tears that streamed down Eddie’s face for the first 30 minutes of the ride. The tears have stopped, but Wayne’s heart breaks at each quiet sniffle coming from the back seat.

***

Uncle Wayne is at the door again. Except this time Eddie’s ten years old and he’s the one that called. He can’t stand being in the house all alone. His mom passed four years ago and his dad’s never been the same - not that he was a stand up guy to begin with. Good old dad said he was going out to “shoot some pool with a couple of buddies”, and while this would normally be fine, Eddie’s run out of Kraft mac and cheese to eat.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne. Sorry I had to call, I was just thinking I haven’t stayed over in a little while. Would it be okay-”

“Where’s Al?” As always, his uncle cuts straight to the chase. His voice is gruff, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice now in reading his uncle and can hear the concern laced in his words. 

He scuffs his converse against the floor and shrugs. “I dunno. He said he was gonna play pool with some guys.” Eddie looks up again to see Wayne looking around the trailer. He should’ve cleaned up after he called him; the dirty dishes in the sink and the trashcan full of candy wrappers says more than he meant to share. 

“Eddie, how-”

“Just forget it. I shouldn’t have called - it was stupid.” Brown eyes meet Wayne’s green ones defiantly, daring him to finish the sentence. 

“Alright, c’mon boy. Let’s go get Denny’s.”

~

The pancakes on Eddie’s plate are drowned in syrup, chocolate chips smeared across the top of them. A cup of black coffee sits in front of Wayne.

“What time does school start on Monday?”

A disbelieving smile starts to spread on Eddie’s face. “I can stay with you all weekend?!”

Wayne nods and sips his coffee, a small smile of his own hidden by the lip of the cup. “We’ll leave a note for your dad, but yeah. I don’t see why not.”

~

Unfortunately, Al Munson is at home when they get back, and with him comes the end of all of Eddie’s weekend plans. Al pitches a fit, sends Eddie to his room so he and Wayne can “have some words”. Eddie doesn’t know why he bothered sending him to his room when his dad’s shouting can be heard through the whole trailer anyway. 

“Don’t need you telling me how to raise my own damn son!”

Wayne’s words don’t carry as well as his dad’s but he can hear some kind of murmur in response. 

“Fuck off Wayne, you always thought you were better than me. I don’t care what you think, he lives under my roof so he follows my rules. He doesn’t need somebody babying him!”

Another murmur. 

“Get the hell out of my house! Don’t even bother coming back! I don’t care if that brat calls you or not!”

Eddie’s back is pressed against his door, knees tucked to his chest as he listens. He was stupid to call Wayne. Stupid to think his dad would let him go stay the weekend with him. He’s just tired. 

He’s tired of having cereal and mac and cheese for dinner. He’s tired of having to eat off of his friend’s lunch trays because his dad hasn’t paid for his school lunches. He’s tired of using duct tape to keep the bottom of his shoes attached because Al won’t buy him more. He’s tired of being left alone for days on end. His dad is right, he can take care of himself - he just doesn’t want to. 

He misses his mom.

***

“Eddie? What happened?” 

The teen brushes off his uncle’s words and heads into the trailer, bee-lining to his room. Eddie knows he looks rough, but seeing his reflection from the mirror on his dresser tells him not about this with Wayne isn’t going to be an option.

“Eddie, can I come in?” Speak of the devil; there he is knocking at Eddie’s door. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” He sits back on his bed, eyes focused on the floor instead of the man stepping carefully into his space, and Wayne lets him sit in silence for a moment before sitting at the foot of Eddie’s bed. 

“You gonna tell me what happened? Or are we just acting like your nose isn’t a bit more crooked than it was this mornin’?” Eddie stays silent. “I know you’re about as graceful as a bull in a china shop, but normally it’s your knees coming home bloody - not your nose. If you’re not gonna talk about it, you gonna at least let me have a look?”

“Why does it matter? No one cares in this fucking town anyway. Everyone always has something to say. Oh did you hear that Munson boy had to move because his dad’s in jail? Eddie’s a weirdo, don’t be friends with him. Have you seen his clothes? Doesn’t even have enough money to get new pants when he rips out the knees. Oh well, I heard that his uncle took him in just for the tax benefits - Lord knows it wouldn’t be worth it to have him otherwise. He’s going to be just like his daddy when he gets older, scamming people - don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Shut your mouth, boy!” 

Eddie’s mouth clamps shut, teeth slamming together with an audible click. He’s shaking slightly, fists clenched at his sides. He can’t meet Wayne’s eyes. 

“You listen to me, and you listen good.” Wayne’s voice is stern but like always, Eddie can hear the affection in it. 

“Look at me,” Eddie raises his eyes slowly, jaw tense even if it causes his nose to throb.

“You ain’t nothing like your daddy. You’re your mama through and through, God bless her. And just because people can’t see past their own noses don’t mean you need to be listening to their shit. You’ve been nothing but a good kid since I met you, so unless you committed some crazy crimes that first week of your life then I think I’m good authority on this. I mean it, Eddie, you’re nothing like him. You keep being you, and you never will be him. Now lemme take a look at your nose.”

***

“Welcome to Family Video!” Eddie looks to the counter, eyes locking with none other than Steve Harrington’s before smirking.

“Is that any way to greet me? Your favorite customer?” He saunters to the counter, limp slowing him down only slightly - physical therapy the past 3 months making it possible at all.

Steve rolls his eyes but the huge smile on his face gives him away. “Sorry, let me try again.” And then he turns around, hazel eyes catching Eddie’s again, fluttering his eyelashes. “Oh! Hello Eddie!” He finishes his new welcome with a wink and then leans against the counter. The sun coming in through the windows makes Steve look like a painting, a modern day Adonis. He’s made to be in the sunlight.

“Anyway, what’s the occasion today? Came to finally return Alien?” Steve’s hair is a little floppier than usual, and he’s been letting it grow out since the end of July so it’s curling up slightly at the end of his neck. It doesn’t cover the two moles on Steve’s neck, the perfect place to bite - and Eddie’s getting off track. 

“As if. That movie’s basically mine and Wayne’s now. No point in trying to get it back.” Eddie shrugs, shaking his head mockingly. He and Steve know he’s had it checked out for at least a year now. They both also know that Steve waived his late fees the moment he got promoted to manager. 

“Just came to bother Hawkins’ favorite babysitter.” Steve’s eyes narrow at him now, leaning away from the counter to peer outside. 

“Which one put you up to this? What do you need?” His hands are on his hips, opening the green vest to tease Eddie with the broad expanse of his chest hidden by a light blue polo. Eddie’s mouth feels a lot dryer than it was when he walked in. Okay - stop looking at the silver buckle on his belt, look at something else. Yeah, yeah, the tangled phone cord - that’s interesting.

“Why does it always have to be something?”

Hazel eyes level him with a look that paints a blush on his cheeks, causing Eddie to cough. 

“Okay, maybe Will’s got a campaign planned for us to play. Buuuut-”

“But the cabin isn’t big enough for all of you to play in?” Steve cuts him off, crossing his arms over his chest instead. Which does nothing to help Eddie’s blush, eyes now distracted by the bulge of his arms. Which makes him think of Steve’s arm behind his back during the last group movie night. Which then makes him think of Steve offering his arms during physical therapy, easily holding Eddie up as he stumbled along. Which then makes Eddie think of how easily Steve was able to help him into the wheelchair he had for a few weeks. 

“-ie? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Eddie blinks and shakes his head, bringing into focus Steve’s brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay. Gotta head out - Wayne’s waiting in the van. So we can host it at your place? Thanks!”

And then Eddie’s limping back towards the door, thoroughly embarrassed. Leave it to him to get a massive crush on THE Steve Harrington and become a huge idiot in front of him. Screw Robin for making him realize he’d fallen for the guy in the first place, no more late night smoking sessions with Birdie. 

“Yeah, okay. Tell Wayne I said hi!” Steve calls behind him and he flashes a smile over his shoulder as he steps through the door. 

~

There’s an open notebook to Eddie’s right and a pencil tucked behind his ear while he sits crouched over his guitar. He hasn’t written anything new in the last 30 minutes, his mind wandering to Steve again. He wishes he and Robin hadn’t decided to play truth or dare last night. If he’d only picked dare! Instead he picked truth and just like the teenage girl she is, Robin had to ask about crushes. And then he just - started talking about Steve and couldn’t stop. Robin got this weirdly focused look in her eyes and then just cryptically said that he should “tell Steve how you feel!” which had him choking on air. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Brown eyes widened, staring into Robin’s blue ones. 

“You should tell him how you feel!” She’d grinned, eyes red rimmed but nonetheless sincere. 

“Birdie…he doesn’t even know I’m like that…what if he acts weird after? I can’t lose him.” 

“Eddie.” Robin placed her hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes, close enough that their noses were almost touching. 

“He knows about me. And he’s my Platonic soulmate, knowing this isn’t going to do anything but make things better. He’s a good guy. I promise Eddie, nothing bad is going to happen if you tell him.”

And then she’d backed up to her side of the couch again, reaching for the bag of popcorn they’d made earlier. 

“Eddie! Phone for you! Sounds like your boy!” Wayne’s teasing voice calls through the trailer and Eddie almost drops his guitar in his haste to grab at the phone on his bedside table (a perk from being stuck at the house for recovery).

“Waaaynee!” His voice comes out like a petulant teenager but he doesn’t catch his uncle’s response because he’s already holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Stevie.” He’s breathless even though Steve hasn’t said anything, face warming just like earlier.

“Eddie! Hey! So I said I’d host, but you didn’t say what day.” 

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, can imagine him peering into his fridge with the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear. Eddie sets his guitar against the end of his bed and leans back against his pillows. 

“My bad, yeah, Will the Wise said he wanted to do it next weekend, that work for you?” 

“I have to open next Saturday but if you guys are okay with starting around dinner time, that works for me? I can talk to Mrs. Byers and the Sinclairs about doing a sleepover, can you ask Dustin’s mom and see about giving Max a ride? I’m sure Nancy can let her mom know Mike will be staying over. What kind of snacks do you guys need? I can go to the store on Thursday when I’m off. I can rearrange the living room too…I’ll have to tidy up the guest rooms. Maybe Hopper has some extra firewood we could use and have a little bonfire too? I’ll see if Robin wants to come, we could watch some kind of movie while you play.” 

Steve’s in his own world and Eddie can almost hear the faint scratch of the pen he knows Steve is using to write out a checklist. The list will help keep Steve from forgetting anything, something that Steve has admitted he’s had some trouble with. Remembering the small things, that is. Has to write down dates and specific plans otherwise the day will creep up on him and he’ll only remember when one of the kids contacts him on the radio. It’s happened more times than he’s comfortable with, and now he writes everything down. Has a notebook near his home phone and even keeps a small handheld notebook in his car just in case. Eddie saw it once, accidentally sitting on it; got to see a page covered in bullet points. 

Eddie Physical Therapy MWF 2-3 PM!!

Dustin back from Camp Know Where on Tuesday the 17th

Eddie says to listen to Black Sabbath ??

Will and El staying over on the 3rd so Hopper and Mrs. Byers can go on date

Give Eddie back his vest ???

Oil Change

Ask Eddie

  But he couldn’t finish reading the list before Steve had grabbed the notebook to shove into the center console. 

“Stevie, sweetheart-” and he swears he can hear a stutter in Steve’s breath, “we can just order a couple pizzas and be fine. Don’t worry about getting specific snacks or anything. I’ll talk to Claudia and you know I’ll make sure Max gets there in one piece. Everyone’s gonna be excited just to play, let alone stay the night and get some of that breakfast casserole you always make for us.” He’s joking with his words and is rewarded with a chuckle from Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it only when I get some help in the kitchen. Peeling and cutting all those potatoes is hard work. But yeah, we can order pizza for the group.” The stress has eased from his voice, and the Steve in Eddie’s mind’s eye is ripping away the previous notes to replace it with one that just says pizza for dinner and the ingredients for Steve’s breakfast casserole (potatoes, eggs, shredded cheese). 

“Uh-huh. You tell me when you stop needing the potatoes in perfect cubes and I’ll help. Little Stevie Homemaker has to have his food perfect otherwise no one’s allowed to eat it.” He teases again, pulling a strand of his hair to his mouth, chewing on the end slightly. 

~

Steve’s messing with something in the kitchen when Eddie and Max walk in. Max beelines to the living room, circling the coffee table before plopping down on the left side of the couch. Her hair is in two haphazard braids that Eddie knows El will offer to fix as soon as she walks in. She cuts her eyes to him and nods towards the kitchen, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mayfield.” He pokes a finger in her direction and squints his eyes. The effect is lost on her though because she’s already turned back towards the TV, remote in hand, while he heads towards the kitchen. 

At least three cabinet doors are slammed shut before Eddie steps into the kitchen. Steve’s back is to him, a green T-shirt stretched across his back - his shoulders are tense and Eddie can almost see an exact outline of the boy’s shoulders. He can’t make out what he’s saying, but Steve’s mumbling as he works. There’s a towel covered bowl behind him on the island, but he’s pulling out smaller bowls and setting them on the counter next to the fridge. 

“What’s all this, Stevie?” And Steve jumps about 2 feet in the air at his voice, whipping around quick enough that his bangs settle back down on his head while he scowls at Eddie. 

“I thought I told you to be here at 6.” 

“And I thought I told you that we would order pizza tonight.” Eddie’s looking down at the homemade dough he sees sitting in the bowl he uncovered. Now that Steve’s turned around, he can see that he was pulling bowls out to dump toppings into. A jar of olives, cut green peppers, mushrooms, a bag of pepperoni, and a large bag of cheese - all the makings of a pizza, just no sauce. When he looks back to the boy in front of him, he’s wiping his hands on a gray towel he had over his shoulder. A light blush is on his cheeks, traveling down to the collar of his shirt - Eddie thinks if he didn’t have it on that pretty pink would travel further down his chest. He hears another mumble from Steve but he turns as he’s talking so he misses it, and Steve’s shoulders seem more tense than before. 

“What was that? Hey, please?” Eddie rounds the corner of the island and reaches a hand out to rest on Steve’s shoulder, turning him slightly. He’s looking down but lets Eddie turn him, hands slowing their fidgeting with the towel. 

“Mario’s pizza has too much grease, and this way all of the kids can put their own toppings on theirs.” 

Again, Eddie is reminded of how sweet Steve really is. He’s so glad he’s gotten to know this Steve instead of the “King” he thought the younger man was. His hand travels from Steve’s shoulder with a mind of its own, resting against his right cheek. If he moves his thumb slightly he could cover up the moles right there on Steve’s left cheek. Hazel eyes are hidden from him, Steve’s eyes closed as he leans slightly into the contact. 

Eddie really wants to kiss him. 

“Stevie…” His voice is little more than a whisper but Steve opens his eyes regardless. The light from the kitchen window highlights the gold in Steve’s eyes and Eddie’s breath stutters at what he sees there. 

Does Steve want to kiss him?

Loud knocking shocks both them and Eddie drops his hand like it’s been burned. “STEVE!! Why is your door locked? Let us in!!” Dustin’s voice is muffled only because there’s a door and room between them, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Let me go let them in, can you stir that for me?” Then he just nods towards a simmering pan on the stove like nothing happened. And Eddie can do nothing but nod once before watching Steve walk away. He hopes he’s not imagining how red Steve’s face is before he leaves the kitchen.

Maybe after the kids leave he and Steve can have a little chat - seems like Robin might be right. If he’s lucky maybe he’ll even get to kiss Steve before the night ends. 

But until then, he’ll stir Steve’s homemade pizza sauce and play the most distracted D&D game he’s ever played. He might’ve been through hell and back, with or without the Upside Down, but things might just be looking up for him now.

(Now with a part two!)

[rollinouttahere]

Joyride

Yandere Strawhats + Ace x Isekai Reader

2.2k words

Part 2

Yet again, this fic is inspired by @lovelybrooke ‘s Isekai reader stories.

I also want to say thank you for all the support and kind comments on the last story I wrote! I’ve actually been working on my own yandere one piece fic that I’m hoping to start posting in a few days give or take, so if you like what I’ve written so far, keep an eye out for that! All future writings are gonna be posted on my writing blog @rollinouttahere-writes​ so go follow that blog if you’re interested!

Trying to act normal and inconspicuous in the One Piece universe was a far from easy task. Being the massive fan of the series that you were, it was damn hard to not give away that you knew all about the crew that was so generously letting you stay with them after appearing on their ship with zero explanation.

It became even harder to stay lowkey when Ace temporarily joined up with the Strawhats. All you wanted was to hug that man and tell him how loved he is and that he deserves to live just as much as anyone else, but you really couldn’t say or do any of that without looking weird. You’ll just have to settle for being extremely nice to him, which was very easy.

Ace himself was already an easy guy to get along with (now at least), but he was noticeably very interested in you. You couldn’t blame him, what with Luffy almost immediately outing your insane situation to him. He seemed incredulous at first, but warmed up to and accepted the story way faster than you expected. It didn’t take long for his questions to go from feeling like an interrogation to being genuine.

You were so busy soaking up the attention from such a beloved character that you almost missed how jealous your crewmates were getting. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper were taking it the best. Chopper probably because he was still so new to the crew that he wasn’t all that bothered by one of them not paying as much attention to him. Usopp was too busy building Nami’s weapon to concern himself with it too much. Meanwhile, Luffy was just so happy to see Ace again that he didn’t really notice that you were spending a lot of time with him. That, and he would usually be hanging out with both of you anyways. 

The others though, oh boy did they not like this. Nami was the most blatant about it, straight up glowering at you and Ace whenever you two were too close for her liking. You’re pretty sure the only thing keeping her from up and dragging you away from him is Luffy dismissing her complaints and telling her to stop fretting over it. You love being a part of their crew, so she should quit worrying!

Sanji and Zoro were both vying for your attention in their own ways as well. Sanji suddenly wanted more help around the kitchen, insisting that he needed an extra pair of hands now that there was another mouth to feed. Given that Ace’s appetite was on par with Luffy’s, you could understand the desire for help. Zoro’s attempts were considerably less convincing. One time he wanted you to spot him while he was working out, making you laugh right in his face at the mere idea that you would be able to help him with the ridiculous weights he lifts. His face had gone bright red after you pointed it out to him, prompting him to walk away immediately, much to your amusement.

Right now, though, you weren’t with Ace. Him and Luffy were busy doing something and you didn’t want to butt in on all their time together. Instead, you were ogling Ace’s boat that was currently tied to the side of the Going Merry.

You absolutely loved the design of his ship, it was such a clever idea to use his devil fruit ability to power a steam engine and make what looks like a tiny sailboat function like a jet ski. It didn’t appear in the anime too many times but everytime it was on screen it looked so cool. 

“I wonder what it’d be like to ride that,” you quietly mused to yourself.

“Wanna find out?”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sudden arrival of Ace. He laughed at your reaction, not a care in the world for the near heart attack he just gave you.

“Oh my God, Ace, you scared the hell out of me!” You lightly slapped at his shoulder, your other hand resting over your now racing heart.

He laughed some more, “I could tell, and I’m sorry about that.” He didn’t sound even vaguely sorry. Ace elbowed your side, “But seriously, do you want to go for a ride?”

The offer had you staring wide-eyed at him. Then the boat. Then back at him again. “Really? Are you sure?” You were desperately trying to keep your cool and not show how insanely excited you were about the idea.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t. Come on,” he hopped up onto the railing and held his hand out to you. You didn’t need to mull it over, eagerly taking hold and stepping up with him. As soon as you did, he wrapped an arm around you and was ready to jump down onto his boat when Nami started yelling.

“Woah, woah, woah, what the hell are you two doing???” Nami, who was previously pruning her trees, had abandoned the activity entirely in favor of sprinting over to where you were and grabbing onto your leg.

“(Y/N) wanted to try riding my boat, so we’re going for a little joyride, that’s all,” Ace flashed Nami a dazzling smile, not at all deterred by her interruption.

“No way! What if they fall off? That thing doesn’t look safe at all!” Nami was now pulling on you, trying to get you down from the railing.

Ace held on tighter in response, “It’s perfectly safe, it has to be. I’m a devil fruit user, remember? (Y/N) isn’t, so really, I’m in more danger on that than they are. It’s fine.”

You could tell Nami was ready to argue more, but thankfully Luffy piped up, “Don’t worry about it Nami! If Ace says it’s safe then it’s safe!” Luffy, who was perched on his special seat at the bow, came bounding over, “But I wanna go next!”

“Sure thing, Luffy, we’ll be back in a bit,” Ace was quick to jump down with you in tow, not wanting to give any of the other Strawhats a chance to object. After untying it from the Going Merry, he knelt down slightly, “Hop on my back, you’re not gonna want to have your feet down there when we get going.”

Not wanting to get set on fire, you obliged. If you weighed anything to him, he didn’t show it, simply standing up straight as soon as you were on. “Ready?”

You excitedly nod your head, holding on tight to Ace in preparation. It was a good thing too, because he decided to immediately start at the leisurely speed of what felt like mach 7. A shriek emits from your throat as you take off. You think you can hear Nami yelling something again, but couldn’t make it out over your own screaming and the noise of the steam engine roaring to life.

Ace laughed loudly at your reaction, but did slow down slightly, “Sorry about that, I just wanted to get some distance before anyone else tried to stop us.” One of his arms let go of your leg and tugged at your arms around his neck, “But would you mind easing up a bit? I won’t be able to take us back if you choke me out.” 

“Oh oops, I’m sorry!” You immediately loosened your arms and readjusted them. Accidentally strangling Ace was not something you wanted to do today. Or any day really.

He simply shrugged it off, telling you not to worry about it. It’s not like you could really hurt him. “I’m gonna speed up again, you ready for it this time?”

The second you confirm that you are, the boat lurches forward, cutting through the waves like nothing. Now that you weren’t panicking, you could properly take in the experience and thoroughly enjoy it. 

The wind was whipping through your hair and sea water misted the air, droplets clinging to both yours and Ace’s hair. He hit a particularly big wave causing the boat to go airborne for a moment before crashing back down. You found yourself laughing and cheering as Ace continued to show off, which only egged him on more.

After a while, Ace slowed to a stop and let you down from his back. “C’mere, step up on this,” he stepped to the side and motioned for you to step up onto the front of his boat. His hands rested on your hips to keep you steady, presumably not wanting to get chewed out by Nami if you came back sopping wet. 

“This is one of the best parts of being at sea,” he was staring straight ahead. “Sunsets out here are something else, you don’t get a view like this on land.”

He was completely correct, it was beautiful. Orange, red, and pink hues colored the sky and reflected gorgeously in the ocean. It was a breathtaking view, one you would remember forever.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, quietly admiring the view with nothing but the natural sounds of the ocean around you. It was nice, very peaceful. 

“What do you think about staying here?”

You tense at Ace suddenly speaking. “Like staying out here a little longer?” As lovely as this was, the others were bound to get antsy if you stayed out after dark.

“No, I mean staying here in this world,” he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms fully around you and resting his head on your shoulder to be able to see your face. “It’s nice here, right? Why not stick around? I know Luffy wants you to. Hell, I’m sure the rest of the crew does, too.”

You were taken aback by this statement, and weren’t really sure how to respond. Sure, it could be nice here when you all weren’t being hunted for sport by marines, but this wasn’t a place you could see yourself staying long term. That, and you had a life back home, you couldn’t just throw your friends and family to the wind like that.

Sucking in a breath, you searched for the nicest way to say all that. “It is nice here, but I have to go back.” You could feel his posture stiffen behind you, “Don’t get me wrong, you all have been super nice to me! It’s just that I’ve got all my friends and family back home and I miss them terribly.”

“Your family?” Ace said this so quietly that you weren’t even sure he was saying that to you. Abruptly, he straightened up, “I know! If you want a family so bad you can join the Whitebeard pirates!”

What? You joining the Whitebeard pirates? You already feel inadequate enough around the Strawhats, you can’t imagine how pathetic you would feel around those people. Of course, it would be awesome to get to meet them, but you want to keep to yourself as much as possible since you will eventually have to go back home.

While you were thinking, Ace kept going, “Pops would love you, I just know it. We haven’t gotten another sibling in a while, everyone would be psyched to meet you.” His once comforting hug was growing tighter by the second. Suffocating even.

“Ace-”

“And you already have friends with my brother’s crew, so that’s all taken care of!”

“Ace, ple-”

“Of course, I’m your friend too, but after you join I’ll be your big brother!”

“ACE!” Your yell startled him, mercifully making him let go of you. You take the opportunity to inch forward and create some distance, however minute.  “That’s,” oh, how to put this without hurting his feelings, “that’s very kind of you to offer, but I’d rather stay with the Strawhats for now.”

“Oh…” You don’t even need to turn around to know how disappointed he was by this declaration. He chuckled awkwardly, “I’m sorry about that, looks like I got a little carried away there.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” frankly, you just wanted to go back to the ship after that. The atmosphere was uncomfortable now.

After a few more seconds of silence, Ace cleared his throat and spoke again, “We should probably head back now, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

You were quick to agree and clambered onto his back, “Yeah that’s a good idea, Nami would throw a fit if we stay out much longer.” She’ll probably be mad regardless, but still.

Ace got his boat going and began the trip back. The Going Merry was a lot further away than you’d realized, it was so small that you could just barely make it out in the distance. You internally cringe, your crewmates are no doubt unhappy about you being this far away.

Despite the distance, you couldn’t help but notice how slow Ace was going compared to earlier. It’s like he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. You decided not to call him out on it, not deeming it worth it.

“I’m not giving up, you know.”

“What?” 

“I’ll drop it for now, but I’m not giving up on you joining Whitebeard’s crew. Just… think about it, okay?” Ace’s voice was quiet, just barely loud enough to hear over the engine. 

The rest of the ride back remained dead silent, giving you plenty of time to mull over what just happened. It felt so… Weird. Out of character, really. He’s known you for, what? 24 hours? If that. Yet he’s trying to talk you out of going home and seems dead set on replacing your family with his own. Granted, everyone’s been more clingy than you thought normal, but this was downright bizarre. 

You really need to find a way home, and fast.

[oralmisery]

Stiff by Day, Stiffer at Night

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 7,007 | Tags: Smut, Humor, Lingerie, Blow jobs, Hand jobs, Brat Steve Harrington, Bathing/Washing, Light Dom/Sub undertones

Week three prompt: Lingerie

Steve is a mannequin that comes alive at night. 

Eddie occasionally dumpster dives at Starcourt Mall. 

The corroded coffin boys break in Eddie’s new find like teenage boys do–with mischief and vandalism. The not so lifeless Steve holds Eddie accountable and makes him clean up the mess he and his friends made.

Eddie knew Starcourt Mall was a corporate parasite draining the economic and cultural vitality of Hawkins; practically stealing customers from local businesses–the mom and pop stores that are generational legacies. However, being that the local businesses’ version of economy and culture consist of sneering at Eddie's crumpled single bills and following him around their stores like he was going to walk away with their entire inventory in his pockets, he wasn't remorseful in the least for being a patron of the new mall. Besides, there was a record store Eddie could browse while Jeff dared Gareth to steal panties from Victoria's secret. It had an actual metal section, small but existent.

The mall also had some of the most unique dumpster finds, not that Eddie made it a habit, he just looked from time to time.

“Why did you-mphf , even take this thing?”, Gareth said. He and Eddie were finding it difficult to maneuver Eddie's latest find through the trailer's small doorway.

“Same reason-push man-you and Jeff stole frilly underwear-oof ”, Eddie said, knocking his elbow into the wall and almost losing his footing. “I saw something, I wanted it, and no one stopped me, besides my acquisition was free”.

“Can't believe you went dumpster diving for a mannequin” Gareth said, finally angling the mannequin's legs right so they could get inside the trailer. They started down the hallway to Eddie's room.

The mannequin was a masculine one, tall and fit with defined musculature that was somehow supposed to represent the average man. It was bare when Eddie found it and the smooth white plastic body proved slippery to hold. The sculpted hair on the head pressed into Eddie's stomach when Gareth gave an impatient push.

“Slander , I didn't go into the dumpster, it was just right outside of it, mint condition” Eddie said, hands grappling with the mannequins shoulders as they tipped it up to stand in the middle of his room. “Ya know this thing will actually get use, which is more than I can say for the lingerie y’all pilfered. Who are you going to give it to? I don't think I’ve even seen you talk to a girl”.

Gareth's face scrunched up and he opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by Jeff, “we can give them to Gareth's mom”. Gareth’s outrage turned to a new target and he swiped one of Eddie's pillows to whack a laughing Jeff.

Jeff dodged, “What are you going to use the mannequin for?” he asked Eddie, holding a swinging Gareth back with his superior arm length.

Eddie turned the mannequin a couple inches to the right, looking over its plastic figure with roving eyes, “So many applications Jeff, imagine! a prop for our sessions, a corroded coffin mascot, a model for new t-shirts”. Eddie turned and smiled, wide and mischievous, “also I'm gonna scare the shit out of Wayne with it”.

Eddie wiggled his fingers at the others, "now get comfy, we are not parting ways until we get our setlist right, I'm going to roll a joint and grab some beer” he bounded from the room.

Eddie plopped down at the small kitchen table and opened his lunchbox to roll a joint. He twisted the filter paper with ease and sealed it with a quick swipe of tongue. With the joint tucked behind an ear, he grabbed a six pack from the fridge and headed back to his room.

“Okay boys, so I think we- what the fuck ?”.

The mannequin was now wearing a pale baby-blue, lace lingerie set. 

“I think he looks really good, right Eddie?” Gareth said as Jeff cackled.

Eddie bit his tongue. It did look good. The light blue bra stretched tight around perfectly sculpted pecs. The cups of the bra were completely transparent, the only opaque elements were delicately embroidered flowers and petals. Eddie could easily imagine pink nipples, bruising the sheer blue purple between the floral adornments. The same sheer fabric curtained around the bottom of the bra, creating an hourglass figure on a chiseled torso. Dainty straps enhanced broad shoulders. The whole piece stretched into a shape vastly different from the curves expected of it on a feminine figure. The paradox had Eddie's mouth watering. 

The most modest part of the ensemble was the front of the panties. There was a wide triangle of opaque blue cloth, then the rest was just as sheer and flower adorned as the bra. Even though the mannequin’s groin was smooth and flat, the square muscular cut of the hips sparked the image of blue cloth pulling obscenely over a bulge. Eddie swallowed thickly. Unlike Jeff and Gareth, humor wasn't at all the emotion Eddie was experiencing right now. He didn't want them to know what he was actually feeling, lest they stop being his friends.

Eddie laughed, loud and performative “I'd prefer if the top was more filled out” he said. He might as well have spoken absolute gibberish for how meaningless those words were, but he wasn't going to expose himself. He was a goddamn dungeon master and he knows how to put on an act, how to control a room–reveal information only when he's ready to. 

When players are a little too close to unraveling the mystery you give them a distraction, a side quest.

A misdirection.

Eddie swirled around and grabbed a marker from his desk, he uncapped it and flourished it in the air. He grinned at Gareth and Jeff, then nodded at the scantily clad mannequin.

“I think it needs some ink”

—----

Eddie woke up to something jabbing his ribs. He shifted with growing annoyance, wondering what was digging into his side. Then he recalled, not long before Gareth and Jeff left, that Jeff had pulled off the mannequin's arm and they took turns brandishing it like a sword. Eddie dimly remembered the arm next to him in bed when he passed out in a tipsy haze. He rolled over and started to sink back into sleep.

Something wiggled along his spine.

Eddie jerked upright and to the side with a strangled gasp. He moved so fast that his spine made an odd popping noise and by some miracle he didn't end up on the floor. Something was alive in his bed.

“Is that my fucking arm?”.

Eddie screeched and whirled towards the voice that just spoke. There was a man in his fucking room. It was too dark to see anything more than a silhouette, backlit with meager moonlight from the small window.

“W-what th- H-holy shit , I don't have any money man!”, Eddie said, frantic and garbled. He felt light headed; his heartbeat a rapid pulse in his ears. So at odds with the sluggish ebb of his thoughts and the sleep still encumbering his limbs. 

“I dont want fucking money, give me my arm asshole”, the voice said. 

“Wha -I don't know what that means, l-look just take whatever and go”.

The voice groaned like the home invader was the one inconvenienced.

“Like I want to be here? You're the one that kidnapped me from the mall, then stole my arm! now give it back”, the man said, a slight whine edging into his vexed tone. 

Eddie wasn't convinced they were having the same conversation. His body moved on autopilot, trying to appease the man’s commands as he mentally debated if this was all a vivid dream. He patted his person as if he had anything on him besides a worn t-shirt and boxers.

“Next to you, Jesus”

Eddie blinked, still processing, “Kidnap ? The fuck-I never, how ev-, I-I took a mannequ-” he said, dazed, his hands reaching out blindly on the bed sheet next to him. His left hand bumped into something warm and smooth.

There was a click. The darkness was cut through with the bright glow of his bedside lamp. 

Eddie noticed first that the man in his room wasn't wearing clothes. Mostly. He looked around Eddie’s age and was just miles of smooth tan skin and toned lines that were not at all hindered by a pale blue lingerie set. Indecent was not a word Eddie used often, the term usually directed at him, but the current display had him clutching his metaphorical pearls. Also, there were crude scrawlings of black marker all over the man’s face, like the first person to fall asleep at a truly vicious sleepover. He had uneven sketchy glasses, a stupid french villain mustache and a crooked goatee. 

The second thing Eddie noticed was his searching hand was resting on a hairy forearm. There was a severed arm in his bed.

“WHAT THE FUC-” Eddie leaped up and away, tripping over the blankets wrapped around his legs and falling straight into the almost naked burglar. The man grabbed Eddie (third thing Eddie noticed is the guy only had one arm) trying to keep vertical but they both went down in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow! fuck, Dude ”, the stranger groaned.

“Oh my god, what the fuck, there’s a fucking arm in my be-,” Eddie’s words muffled into incomprehensible noises when the other rolled them sideways, pinning Eddie under him as he sat up. The man didn't respond to Eddie's alarmed yelp. Instead, he reached over to grab the arm on the bed spread.

“Ew , don't touch i-”

The man ignored him and Eddie noticed that for all the separation of limbs going on there was remarkably little blood. None. No gore, exposed bones or flaps of skin. The place where the mans’ shoulder ended was fuzzy–like TV static. The end of the arm was the same way, like Eddie couldn't focus properly on what he was seeing.

The man hoisted up the arm and with a quick motion, snapped it back into place. He shook it out and started moving both shoulders in circles. Like a seasoned athlete warming up for a game.

Eddie watched speechless, mouth hung open. He wanted drugs to be the explanation, but he was unfortunately familiar enough with being high that he knew what stone cold sober felt like. Eddie's eyes lowered. There were more doodles and words scrawled on the man's chest and stomach. Eddie paused on a hand-drawn devil face, horns and everything–Hellfire’s club logo, right above the man’s belly button. Eddie remembered drawing it, and cursing when he made the second horn too big cause the marker skidded across a plastic ab.

With a dread thick in his gut, Eddie turned his head slowly and glanced at the corner of the room where they had left the defaced, barely-clothed mannequin.

The corner was empty.

“Where am I? This is not the GAP”

Eddie looked back at the man still sitting on him, now with two arms, crossed across his chest. His handsome face was carved with a scowl, bordering a pout. Eddie absentmindedly observed that the guy was hot . Like, probably the hottest man Eddie had seen in real life. And it wasn't the sexy underwear–the same pale blue combo that Gareth had stolen. The man was so attractive, he made a dying marker look good. He had brown swoopy hair, expressive eyebrows, pink lips and moles everywhere .

“You-you're the mannequin ?” Eddie asked. The question feels stupid–obvious but also absurd. Like asking if the moon was real and if it was made of cheese in the same breath.  

“Yes, duh ” the man rolled his eyes, “also it’s Steve, now why am I here? Did you rob the GAP or something?”, Steve said, eyeing Eddie's room like it was tainted.

Eddie blinked, dazed. The mannequin had a name. And it was rude as hell.

“Hellooo, do you have ears? Why did you rob the GAP and take me? Where's the new summer collection, huh? I was in The All-american Polo with a contrast collar, slim fit and the #5 khakis, size 32", Steve said. His chin tilted up as he stared at Eddie down his nose.

“I didn't rob anywhere, are you talking about the GAP in the mall ? Starcourt mall?" Eddie asked.

The annoyance disappeared from Steve's face, leaving it cold and intimidating–anger sunk under the surface to fester. His eyes narrowed, “are you always this slow?” he asked, voice tight. 

Eddie opened and closed his mouth. The manne- Steve’s glare was making his skin feel hot and itchy. He’s had unrealistic dreams start like this before, unfortunately the way those usually end is not a likely outcome in this situation.

“I didn’t know you're from the GAP, you were out by the dumpsters, man”

“The dumpster?!” Steve looked affronted. He jumped up and off Eddie to start pacing the room ranting. 

“The fucking dumpster ? They were going to throw me away? I'm supposed to be displaying hot new summer looks at reasonable prices. I’m the frontline of fashion, dammit! I don’t deserve to-to model a fucking trash bag ”. He abruptly stopped and whirled around on Eddie who was sitting up, trying to drag himself back on the bed.

“Why am I in this ”, Steve asked, plucking at the lacy bra on his chest, “also fucking marker? Are you serious, you guys 8 years old or something?”. Steve waved an angry hand from his face to down his body. He planted his other hand on a jutted hip.

Eddie's eyes followed Steve’s wave as if it was an invitation. His eyes slid down Steve's figure, marker and all. Eddie swallowed, the bulge wrapped in baby-blue was bigger than the one he had imagined.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions or just keep staring at my crotch?” Steve asked. Both hands on his hips now, unashamed, almost presenting in contrast to his sharp words.

Eddie's eyes flew up, his cheeks hot. 

“Uh yeah, or…no, I’m 20 not 8 years old”, Eddie said. Steve’s glare was volatile. Eddie put up his hands in surrender, “sorry , we were being stupid, just messing around. I'm so sorry, we didn't know you were, uh, alive …do, ah, all mannequins come to life?”

“As far as I know, Just me” Steve answered, preoccupied, looking off into the distance. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips, “Ugh , can't believe they threw me out, I'm the best male sport model they have, I'm the only one that does the athletic stance”. He demonstrates with a pose that Eddie assumed was flawless but he's a little distracted with how the lingerie stretched around Steve’s spread thighs, leaving a little less of his crotch to imagination.

“Uh, well that's great…I mean the pose not the being… fired ? not sure why they threw you out but, um, I can drive you back-" Eddie hiccupped when he was roughly pulled up by the front of his T-shirt. Steve leaned in close and snarled.

“Absolutely not, you're gonna clean up what you did” Steve said. His face inches from Eddie’s.

“What?” Eddie asked, wrong-footed. They were so close, he could see flashes of the inside of Steve's mouth.

Steve furrowed his brow and shook Eddie, “all the marker, you're gonna wash it off”.

[ continue reading ]

[sehtoast]

Two in One (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You once said that you wished you had two of him to fill you entirely. Your wish is his command.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering, double penetration, spit, TWO Homelanders

Reader is gender neutral but is written to have a vagina

Fic Directory

How you got here was a mystery. Maybe he took it a little too literally when you told him you wished there were two of him to fill you.

Did it even matter?

There you were, face down, ass up on Homelander’s bed as he teased the head of his cock at your entrance. His hand gripped your ass, thumb pressed against your rim.

“I’m gonna give you everything you want, babe.” He growls low, tapping the head of his shaft against your wetness. He slips the tip in, and you whine against the covers, gripping them as he sinks in further. "And then… I'm gonna take everything I want."

When he bottoms out and you unclench your eyes, you’re greeted with the sight of him stood before you, stroking himself at the edge of the bed. He wears nothing but a smirk as he stares down at the way you fixate on his cock.

Behind you, Homelander pulls out and snaps his hips forward harshly, hand coming to grip your hair. “Pay attention, Y/n.” He commands, thumb pushing against your hole once more. You feel a glob of spit land against your rim, and he spreads it around leisurely as he rolls his hips.

The one in front of you comes closer when your eyes flutter shut, and he smears the tip of his cock against your lips, prompting you to open. He wastes no time when you do, pushing into your mouth as deep as he can until you’re gagging around him.

“That’s it, baby. Take it like a good little slut.”

Your eyes roll back as a hand comes down against your ass, the grip in your hair pressing you to swallow more until it draws you back and releases. Homelander dedicates fully to kneading your rear with one hand and fingering you with the other, cock pounding into your cunt as he does. The one ahead of you grips your head and suddenly you’re being used at both ends as though you’re nothing more than their toy.

You gag around his length, each thrust from behind rocking you forward to swallow more of his cock. Drool drips down your chin, and you’re surely a fucking mess, but you can’t fathom a single worry for your appearance as that thumb sinks all the way into your ass.

You moan around Homelander’s cock, the pressure in your ass beginning as discomfort. You almost want to scramble away from it, but you couldn’t even if you wanted.

Homelander presses his hips firmly against you, burying his cock all the way inside. As if on queue, the one ahead of you does the same. You can’t breathe– you can only listen as the one behind you speaks.

“You look so good when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”

Your watering eyes dart to one of the many mirrors in his bedroom, and you find him grinning like the cat that got the cream. The one ahead of you pulls back, and you breathe desperately through your nose.

Behind you, Homelander has reduced his thrusts to slow rolls of his hips, hand snaking underneath you to circle your clit.

“You get one for now. Everything after this is for me.” He works his thumb free and replaces it with two fingers, and you keen– which only encourages him to begin fucking you harder.

You gag and whine against his counterpart's thrusting cock, and suddenly you’re tipping over the edge before you can even realize how close you were. Your cunt spasms against Homelander’s cock, and surely your rim is quivering around his digits as you come. Your vision tunnels for a moment, and the one ahead of you pushes in until your nose presses against the base of his length.

The lack of air makes your head spin, heightening the sensation to infinite bounds. You think you’ll pass out, but he slips free just in time for you to gasp desperately.

You think you can hear them both chuckling.

You’re far too dazed to realize Homelander has manhandled you. He’s standing now, holding you upright by your thighs, your back pressed against the chest of the one that fucked your mouth.

“You’re gonna take us both, now. Just like you wished for.” He smirks at you, hands biting into the flesh of your thighs. His cock is still buried in you from before, and you almost wonder if he even pulled out to adjust your positions.

You nod, leaning forward to try to kiss him– but he has to bridge the divide when you feel the tip of his cock pushing against the tightness of your rim. You moan into his mouth, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

He’s hungry, and he’s laying his claim as he kisses you. Something he knows the one behind you can’t do without being flayed alive as punishment. Homelander swallows your noises as his counterpart sinks in. He can feel him enter you, feel every inch as he sinks in until he bottoms out. The walls of your flesh only do so much to shield the sensation.

He can see himself just over your shoulder, eyes shut, mouth agape as his mirror image groans deep at the sensation.

His pride swelled at his own beauty. But there were other matters to attend to, especially once his counterpart opened his eyes.

You’re so enraptured at the sensation that you barely hear their badgering.

“Don’t you fucking look at me,” grits the Homelander ahead of you.

“Yes sir!” The one behind says obediently.

Homelander begins to fuck into your cunt, hips rolling languidly– but mostly just using his grip to rock your body back and forth. He smirks as your head falls against his neck.

He could practically kill his counterpart when he pressed his palm to your forehead to tip your head back. Though, he decided to let his other self live another day when he realized he was forcing you to look into the mirror. To watch as you were fucked in both holes– to see both cocks working in and out of you as they took you apart.

Your mouth is agape, eyes distant, and drool has dripped from your chin to your chest. Your body rocks back and forth between the sliver of space they’ve given you between their bodies. You can hardly believe your eyes– but the raw feeling in your holes confirms it all as they bear the brunt of each cock pounding away at you.

Each of them looks at you as though you were a meal to devour, especially the Homelander ahead of you. Your eyes dance away from the mirror to meet his, and the carnal fury in his gaze almost scares you. The depth of his hunger is written in every grit of his teeth, in every twitch of his nose, and possession spills from his eyes.

You are his, and his alone. The one behind you may look, sound, and even feel just like him– but you are his.

His hand leaves your thigh suddenly, gripping you by the jaw and forcing your lips to part. He spits in your mouth, then takes you in a kiss– the pace of his hips never relenting.

His hand falls back down, finding your clit this time, and you’re screaming into his mouth as you come. You feel both holes spasm around their cocks, and the sensation of being so filled has removed all sense from your mind as you babble away. Homelander continues fucking you, pace unbroken, but the one behind stutters for a moment.

“–fucking kill you if you stop!” You hear him threaten. The cock in your ass returns to its original pace, and grunts and groans fill your ear as he staves off his release.

When you can open your eyes again, it’s to the sight of Homelander grinning ear to ear. Your body has gone limp, and suddenly both of them are leaning down to bite your shoulders– as if they’d plotted the act while you were lost in bliss.

You cry out as both sets of teeth sink into you, each one with a different intensity. The one ahead of you draws blood with ease, while the other does little more than indent your skin. Both, though, begin to lave at the damage with their tongues. You mewl helplessly, tears escaping as the sensations of pain and pleasure blend to drive you into a perfect madness. Their tongues paint your flesh all the way up to both sides of your jaw, and the Homelander buried in your cunt engulfs you in a kiss while the other nibbles at your earlobe.

His tongue is hot as it slides against yours, and his lips are curled in a devious smile. Their cocks alternate perfectly, one filling you while the other draws back, and you swear up and down that your holes will never be the same again.

Your arms dangle limp, and you can do nothing but whimper as you approach release once more.

You feel the one behind you snake his arms under yours, and they come up until his palms rest against your head, putting you into an arm restraint.

You squirm and moan as your pleasure builds and builds, and you can do nothing but writhe between the heat of them as they fuck into you relentlessly. You can feel the gasps and whimpers of the one behind you, clearly approaching his limit. The sounds drive you wild, and you feel your body lock up as you’re overtaken by yet another climax.

Your chest heaves and your vision spins, and all you know is the skin against yours. Your legs pull Homelander in deeper, and he thrusts shallow against your hold.

Though your eyelids are heavy, you can see Homelander’s control waver. The way he bites his lip, stifles his moans, bares his clenched teeth as he fights to outlast his counterpart– who had begun to moan pitifully in your ear.

He was coming undone, and he gave three more hard thrusts into your ass before spilling, whining a litany of his bliss into your ear.

Ahead, Homelander utterly pounds you as he gloats, “I’m better! I am fucking better!” Clearly for having lasted longer. He growls as he slams into you, hand around your throat as he comes deep, pumping you full of that delicious heat.

You dangle there, and can do nothing more than breathe as he looks at you with satisfaction.

You don't know how he did it, but Homelander always had a way of making your wildest dreams come true.

"I hope you don't think that's it," he chuckles, rolling his hips slowly. "Once ol' number two back there gets it up again, we're going another round. In fact, I've got you all day long."

[writer-in-theory]

you're gonna go far, love — spencer reid.

“I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long that I didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.” —Noah Kahan (Orange Juice)

Summary: After Spencer relapses, he takes the first flight out of Virginia with no plan other than to get a fresh start. Or, my take on where he was for Evolution. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader (not the focus, but it's there) Category: Hurt/Comfort WC: 2k Content Warnings: Discussions of relapse, Mentions of alcohol, Slight spoiler for the ending of Evolution S1 (despite the fact I still haven't finished it myself) Notes: This is for the New Beginnings challenge hosted by @imagining-in-the-margins and based on a prompt from @foxy-eva , so thank you so much to you lovely people. This fic comes 2 years after my last CM fic, and a few months since I've written anything at all, so thank you for the inspiration 💜

Spencer booked the first flight out of Virginia five days after it happened. 

The person at the counter may have said the destination, but it floated straight past his ears and was carried far away. Within hours, everything he’d spent the past two decades building was left thirty thousand feet below him. 

Emily would be hurt. Everyone would be, as each of them heard the news as they one-by-one came into the office tomorrow. But it would be Emily, who was the first to notice the cracks in his once carefully crafted facade all those years ago, who would feel the most betrayed by his sudden escape. 

You should’ve at least said goodbye.

It was what Spencer had been most upset by when Emily had faked her death. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the joy they brought into each others’ incredibly stressful lives, all Spencer had needed was the chance to say goodbye and know that she was out there, somewhere, happy. 

Hopefully, she’d understand why he had to leave now, though. 

Everyone in the BAU had figured out by now that the Spencer Reid who walked out of prison was not the same as the one who’d first stepped into it. Some piece of him—and even now, he wasn’t sure how large that piece was—had been laid bare and morphed beyond even his own recognition. The loss of that part of him ached in the way that losing a loved one did, that sharp stabbing sort of ache that would appear so suddenly that he didn’t know how to handle it. 

There was no way to explain it to the rest of the team, though, no matter how supportive they tried to be. The fact was that none of them had ever nor would ever go through what he exactly had, and for not the first time in his life, Spencer began to feel like a rip current was sweeping him away from the steadiness of shore. 

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from shore that he couldn’t see the relief of the sands that his mind recalled that he’d been prescribed painkillers several months prior. 

It wasn’t the same as what Tobias Hankel had given him so many years ago, nor was it the alternatives he’d managed to find in the months after, but it was devastatingly similar enough that he’d tried to convince the emergency room doctor not to order it in the first place. ‘Pick it up anyway, just in case. No one can recover from a gunshot wound without pain relief.’ 

He’d almost flushed the amber bottle’s contents the day he’d gotten them, but the bone-deep feeling that had eased with time but never truly gone away kept him from fully eliminating that option from his life. Why should one thing that had happened to him years ago deny him proper pain relief now, should he need it? So they’d sat untouched, locked away in his gun safe for months. 

Until five days ago.

After well over a decade in recovery, Spencer knew this was always a possibility. He’d seen friends go through the same thing and had been there to support them in whatever ways he could because no matter how many times it happened the initial feelings of shock, shame, and overbearing grief could be just as overwhelming as the first. 

A day after, when he’d woken up and realized just what had occurred, Spencer had walked himself to the nearest NA meeting. Like he was on auto-pilot, he moved through every piece of advice he had gathered through the years—the stories of success and the stories of forced learning serving as guides to him. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had relapsed (a word that still struck fear in him to even think about), nor would it likely be the last time he was forced to confront this part of his past. 

Still, this was the first time Spencer walked out of the building, packed a bag, and made a silent escape from the city he called home. There was something different about this time, though he had no idea where to even begin considering the specifics of why.

He ended up in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In all the years he’d been with the BAU, they’d never once been called there. It was like every other city Spencer had been in in many ways—the buildings towering above him as he walked, the river that bordered the city mirroring the home he’d just left, even down to the FBI headquarters that was quiet now in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though it were completely separate from everything he’d known before, because the melancholy Spencer had been sitting in for the last five days had suddenly turned comforting amongst the atmosphere of the city.

He ended up in a bar, of all places. It was the kind that only served nonalcoholic drinks, the kind of place where people like him could sit without feeling outside of the norm. Music was playing softly in the background, and though it was busy there was only a gentle rumble of conversation in the room.

“You’re staring at that glass like it’ll kill you. It’s safe, Scout’s honor.” The teasing voice surprised Spencer out of the careful contemplation he’d fallen into. It came from the bartender, who was busying themselves with wiping down a few glasses, stood just on the other side of the bar in front of him.

“You know, that only works if you were actually a scout,” Spencer returned, though raised the glass to his lips after. It was sweet—a little too sweet by his standards, though it was a comfort now after the week he’d had.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the bartender said back. They looked comfortable here, like this sober bar were an extension of their own home. At one time, the BAU office had been the same for him. “You look like you could use a friendly face, and that just happens to be my favorite part of the job.”

“Part of the job…?”

“Oh you know, bartenders are the therapists for the lonely, or something like that.” They were comfortable, and more open to an effective stranger than Spencer ever thought possible. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to talk with them without having to worry about what case information he could get out of them. It wasn’t often, anymore, that he could relax and talk to someone just to talk to them. “What brings you to the Queen City?”

“I moved here,” Spencer answered automatically, looking down sheepishly at his glass before adding, “today, actually.”

“Oh, congrats then. New job?”

“More like a new start.”

It was quiet for only a moment before the bartender asked in a softer voice, “How long had it been?”

Spencer almost asked them what they meant, until he met their gaze. They had their full attention on him now, glasses left abandoned on the inner part of the bar. They’d been kind from the start, but the look they gave him now was the sort of pure understanding that made Spencer realize all at once what they were referring to.

“How did you know?”

The bartender sighed, though there was no sadness to it at all. They pulled something from their pocket, sliding it gently across the bar so Spencer could see. A metallic chip was place between them, silver on the outside and filled in with a green-blue color and a “V” engraved in the middle of it. It was different from the ones he’d used, but he recognized the meaning of it all the same. 

“I opened this place because the day I relapsed, five years ago now, I’d had nowhere to go after. There wasn’t anywhere people like us could go and relax without having to answer the tough questions, like why I drank orange juice instead of ‘what all the other adults were drinking’. It seemed silly at the time, but I think I was just looking for somewhere I could feel normal.”

“My family were the ones who helped me get sober, and sometimes they still forget and will ask me why I’m not drinking.” Spencer returned the sentiment with a light laugh. He loved everyone in the BAU, and even though it had only been a few days he already missed them terribly, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what he was feeling, what he was going through now.

“Exactly!” The bartender said, following Spencer’s lead and letting out a laugh of their own. “Though I can’t say I ever moved to a new city because of it.”

“It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done,” Spencer admitted. “I…really needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere noone knew who I was, somewhere I could get a completely different job and…I don’t know, figure out who I am.”

The bartender nodded. “Sounds about right. This family you left behind, are you gonna go back to them?”

“Eventually. We’ve worked together for so many years. I spent more time with them than I’ve actually ever spent alone, and I think I just need…”

“Something new,” the bartender finished, “I’m starting to catch on. What d’you think you’ll do?”

“I’ve always loved teaching. Maybe that?”

“You know, I have some friends who work at UC. Depending on what you wanted to teach, I could see if they could get you an interview.”

“Just like that?” Spencer asked, wondering only briefly if there was going to be a catch somewhere down the line.

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? I never up and moved cities, but I’m no stranger to new beginnings.”

“I wouldn’t recommend moving cities without thinking it through,” Spencer laughed then. “I have no plan for what comes next.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay, at least?”

Spencer only winced, which he was sure was answer enough for them. He was expecting some kind of sympathetic response, but he never expected the bartender to shrug again and say, “Well, how about I be a little impulsive too. I’ve been looking for a new roommate, why don’t you stay tonight and see how it goes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. You seem decent enough not to be some secret axe-murderer or something.”

Oh, the irony. 

Spencer didn’t really know this person except for the limited conversation they’d had so far. It would’ve been safer, and probably smarter, for him to just find a hotel room for the night and come up with a plan later. But something was telling him that he should agree, that there was something more to this person that he wanted to get to know. 

So not for the first time that day, Spencer trusted his gut and nodded. “Okay, let’s try it.”

It wasn’t a fix for everything. The changes would come slowly, so slowly that sometimes Spencer himself wouldn’t even notice them happening. It would take time to get to a place where Spencer felt okay again, and a large help in that ended up being his new roommate who seemed to just get him in more ways than one. As time went by, Cincinnati truly began to feel like home. 

And two years after he’d left, when Spencer turned on the news and saw the BAU standing before a large crowd as they announced they’d finally caught the serial killer behind the shipping container murders, he finally felt the string tugging him back in the direction of Quantico.

His home was there in Cincinnati, with the person who’d become a friend and even more in the last two years and the professor job that he came to love, but Spencer knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that it was time to see his family again, too. 

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Can't believe I gotta do this, but okay...strap on in guys because this isn't only a rant, but informational. Gonna show you how to clock AI writing, why it's bad, how to abuse AI for writing, and how to prove something was written using a chat bot.

Have you ever read a fic and had to pause for a moment? Contemplate a few things? You almost feel like a few times you just couldn't figure out. Or perhaps you saw something that just read super awkwardly.

If this describe you reading some fics, then you might've fallen victim to "AI Writers". Yes, that's correct! A writer who uses AI to help them write their fics. Mind you most people when using this method actually use chatbots! So it's not like they just run into ChatGPT, give it a prompt, and then post it. Oh no. They RP it, maybe clean it up a little so it reads more like a fic, and then they post it.

If any of you are use to RPing with Chatbots like Janitor.ai, or even C.ai, then you might occasionally read a fic and realize it's strikingly familiar to chat you read in your own chats. I, for one, dabble in RPing with bots when I get bored, which is how now and days I can read a fic, see certain lines, and just know.

Now I'm certain I don't need to sit here and explain why this is so bad. However, I'll explain anyways if you'd like to hear my opinion, as well as many other artists and writers:

AI is Plagiarism!

Ya, this is plagiarism. How do you think it's generating responses? Or for artwork, where do you think it's grabbing the images from. It doesn't do it itself. AI is basically giving a program information so it can generate things. A lot of programs that uses AI, as well as websites, uses that written information to generate your responses. You know Google Docs? Ya, it can take information from your writing there. Archive of Our Own? Bingo. Tumblr? Ya, it takes writing from here as well. That means the people who have spent a lot of time on their writing, spending years honing their craft, are having their writing styles and voices stolen from AI in order to make those generated responses. Now when it's just you RPing something, pop off. It's just you and your bot. Share it with a few friends, sure! If you post it online though, those words are a mashup of millions of stories written and posted online. So it's plagiarism. Plain and simple.

2. It sets you back as a writer

Ever wondered why some people can write the most amazing things ever? It's because they wrote. They learned. They practiced. It took time and effort in order to build up those skills. They got there by writing. So how is using AI affecting your writing? Easy, you're not writing. At least...not a lot. If you use a chatbot to write half the things in a fic, you're only doing half the work. You're also bouncing off the idea from your bot and going with it, instead of using your writer brain to figure out how this scene would best be executed. Imagine it like this. Someone uses AI to draw an image for themselves. Then they trace over it, add a few of their own touches, and color it the best they can. Did they suddenly learn how to draw? No. Because they didn't take the time to learn why something is placed like this, how the composition works, etc. Same thing with writing. If you're using AI to do all the work then you aren't learning, and you're not going to be getting better as a writer. If that's the case...why are you writing? It should be a fun experience to write, after all. It should be something you want to get better at. So why are you just having AI do it? Attention? You realize your fics need to be pretty well written to garner attention, right? That brings me to my third point.

3. We can tell...and it's not fun to read

Today a friend showed me an paragraph from a fic he found here on tumblr. I saw it. Without even having to ask I knew it was written by AI. Nobody talks like that except a robot. The wording? Repetitive for AI to use. "Their bond grew with every passing moment." | "Their shared connection." | "His voice was barely above a whisper." | "It was a testament to their relationship." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her, hand in hand, and to make the most out of the second chance he's been given." | "A renewed sense of purpose." | "He's determined to face this challenge with her" If I see these lines, I clock it as Janitor in a heartbeat. Sure, not every time it's used is AI, but those are the most common things I see in every RP with a bot, and I actively need to correct the bots or else they'll use it in every fucking reply. Another thing is...RPs read differently from a fic. They're not made to be read like a narrative story. It's a bot replying to someone, so when you do that things get weird. Not to mention sometimes clothes appear and disappear, a position is changed, etc. It's just not good writing...

4. It's lazy

Simple as that. It's fucking lazy to get AI to write a fic. Trust me, I am one lazy motherfucker. I hate doing things. I want to sleep for literally a solid week. However I made the decision to write things, so I write them. I put in the effort. Other writers who don't use AI? They put in the effort. I know at least 20 people who are depressed as all hell, can barely get out of bed unless it's to go to work, who decided to still write. Not everyone is going to be a fast writer. Not everyone is going to find writing easy. If you're going to commit, though, commit to it. Write it. Don't use AI.

With these points being made, I'm sure you can see why in the writer community, it's frowned upon to use AI as well as bots for your writing...especially when you don't disclose it. I could probably put everything aside if you just said it was written using AI. Honesty is the best policy.

People might not want to read it then, but at least they know that you used AI. At least you admitted to it. Using AI and then passing it off as completely original is disgusting.

So you clocked something as AI written. You’re pretty freaking sure this was written with a Chatbot. So you plug it into an AI checker and what? No AI detected? No fucking way.

Yes fucking way.

The detectors use a range of things like: Language Model Comparison, Repetitive phrases and structures, contextual awareness, among a few other things. Now look at the "Language Model" part. What if a Chatbot doesn't have the most common language models? It doesn't detect it as easily, that's what.

Where does that leave Chatbots? Well, it means it’s not really checking for things like Janitor or C.ai. A lot of times it flies under the radar because of this. I have found that there is at least one site that doesn’t do this. Instead of more or less checks the context of the text to see if it was written using AI, rather than relying on ai models.

Quillbot

This is what I use to check. I also did run it through some tests. Mind you, not every program is going to be completely accurate. This just happens to, after thorough testing, be the best at being able to tell if a chatbot was used.

As you can see here, the one on the far left is a fic that I ran through that was my own writing. In the middle I had copy/pasted my own responses, and my bot responses from Janitor. On the far right I pasted only Janitor responses. While it’s not accurate, it could still detect human written from a chat bot!

In comparison to me running it through other AI Detection softwares (one of them being Grammarly), where they detected nothing in the post that were written by both me, and the bot.

The entire reason I’m even making this post is because I happened to come across a fic that seemed like it was written using AI, so I was curious and ran it through. Mind you, the detection software only lets you paste 1,200 words of the writing, so this was just a snippet. The same size snippets that I had put for all of my own tests. This was the result:

So we can make a good guess that this was…probably written by AI. If you’re wondering, no. This isn’t a call out post. I won’t be stating the user who I did this. I ask you not to speculate in the notes of this post either. I don’t want to cause unnecessary drama, because honestly the writing community for this fandom already has that.

I will say, to the writers who are using AI, I’m not the only person who will probably get curious. If you’re going to use AI for your writing, at least state it in the description. It’s manipulative and wrong to not state it.

I know I said AI is bad, but it's also like Thanos. It's inevitable. I fully think we should abuse the hell out of it and make it our bitch. Now how to do that without using it to actually write? Easy.

Force it to give us ideas. Once upon a time I wanted to do some writing, but couldn't think of anything I wanted to write. Sure there's prompt lists out there, but a lot of them didn't fit what I needed. So I grabbed ChatGPT by it's lil grimy throat. I whispered in it's ears "Write me some prompts."

I then took said prompts to jog some ideas in my head, then wrote my own original content. I used AI to help give me a basic idea for my writing and then came up with my own stories. That's a simple way of doing it.

I know people who will RP with a janitor bot because they have a plot in mind for a story, but are uncertain with how they'd want to execute it. So they RP with a bot first, and then once they have an idea, they write a fic based off their RP. They don’t take what the bot said, copy/paste it, then say it’s their fic. They use it as a tool to help them with their ideas. Sometimes if the bot has a really good line, they might take that singular line from it as well. That’s not taking the entire story, it’s just a line that they knew would flow with the fic, and half the time they edit the line as well.

You can also use it for story titles. Can’t come up with a title? Tell ChatGPT the synopsis of your story and then ask it to generate 10 titles for it (actually I just tried to this see the results and am currently laughing my ass off, maybe don't do this).

Don’t forget things like Grammarly. That’s also AI! You can use it to check your grammar and fix awkward wording in your writing.

There’s ways a writer can use AI as a tool. In my opinion, it’s no different from an artist using the symmetry tool for their art. Or using a 3D model to help them make a pose for a drawing in their program. It’s a tool that should be used to help and improve your own content.

[tiva-challenges]

Tiva Challenges Wrapped!

Words Written: 155,237+

Stories Written: 21

Authors Involved: 8

Tiva Fans!

As we enter into the final hours of 2024, we want to celebrate what a wonderful year it has been for Tiva fanfiction! This project ( @tiva-challenges ) started in the wake of the unbelievable news that our beloved characters, Tony and Ziva, are finally getting their own, well-deserved SPINOFF! Our initial goal with these challenges was to help keep the fandom active and excited as we wait patiently (or not so patiently) for the release of the show, and in that, I'd say we have succeeded! I think I can speak on behalf of all fanfiction authors when I say: Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and otherwise interacted with our fics this year! It truly means the world and inspires us to keep creating!

So without further ado, let's take a look back at the fics that have been added to the ranks this year!

Monthly Breakdown:

August:

Our first ever challenge in August served as a test run, and was a resounding success! Inspired by the heat of the summer season, our prompt was "Tivali Summer Day" and added over 16,000 words of family fluff to the fandom! What a way to start out!

and the birds will sing our song in halcyon by indestinatus

la vie en rose by Whoa_MyNinja

Pictures in Paris by Shawneeleigh1234

ville de l'amour by ContentsPriceless

September:

September's challenge tackled a question we've all thought about: "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?" Evidently, this ignited the imaginations of many authors, as it received the most responses, with SIX new fics added to the Tiva tag. We may never know what exactly happened in Paris, but at least now, we have some ideas!

Crossroads by Mirandabelle

glitter in the air by Whoa_MyNinja

oh no, i'm falling in love again by benditlikepress

What Happens in Paris... by Shawneeleigh1234

What Really Happened by ContentsPriceless

when you were mine in the dark by indestinatus

October:

In October, we began our "Tiva Seasons" series with the challenge theme "Tiva Seasons: Autumn." For this month, we wanted a more open-ended prompt, and so authors worked from a list of autumn-themed sensory prompts, leading to some darker themes, and some cozier themes too! Expect some more "Tiva Seasons" prompts in the new year!

Better as a Team by Mirandabelle

blood is the life by ContentsPriceless

maybe we got lost in translation by indestinatus

You're Gonna Go Far by sheistheweapon

November:

Late in October, the Tiva fandom was *gobsmacked* by the first look at the upcoming NCIS: Tony and Ziva spinoff, thanks to a leaked trailer from Mipcom. This, of course, led to a ton of theorizing on social media. For our November prompt, it only felt right to build from this, encouraging authors to fill in some of the blanks from the trailer. Thus was born "Leaked: Spinoff Speculation."

A Better Mother by sheistheweapon

Amats by SamWhity

soft light by ContentsPriceless

December:

For our final challenge of the year, we were feeling the holiday spirit! The prompt "Tony & Ziva: Holiday Magic" brought mistletoe, menorahs, and so much more to our screens. Who doesn't like ringing in the season with a good Tiva fic and a cup of cocoa? I don't know about you, but I don't think there can ever be enough Christmas fics.

if the fates allow by ContentsPriceless

One Step at a Time by Whoa_MyNinja

we should just kiss (like real people do) by indestinatus

Wrapped in Red by sheistheweapon

Special Recognition:

Here's to all the Tiva writers who have published this year! We can't wait to see what else you write in 2025! Thank you for all you do to help keep this fandom alive!

If you ever feel inspired to join us on a monthly challenge, we'll be glad to have you! And don't forget, challenges from previous months can always be added to, if the inspiration strikes!

Links to each author's Tiva fics can be found below! There are some great ones you may have missed!

Alex_Beckett

Ameliorably

ami_ven

amkchristian2225

andipxndy

anr

aRegularJo

Axolotl_Supremacy

benditlikepress

BleepBloopBotz

born33

brightblue

Brittany1985

brycedearings

Calico_Cat_TIVA_Fan

CatPawsInNightSky

Chemmie

cherishtiva

chiaruggiero11

clairethebear98

ContentsPriceless

cozyreinsfw

Datherine100

deathofsanity

DonkeyDomination

EaraneMith

EleanorKate

EmLikesToWrite

Fanficshewrote1999

FangirlFlailings

Forkz

GracieGirl99

Hundan

iamcoolkid

indestinatus

Infinite_Fandoms

just_a_girl_named_julie

klutzy_girl

LadyLustful

lifelesswordscarryon

LoadsOfRandomness

lylahwntrs

MakiMcGee

Man_your_Canon

Mirandabelle

Miraphina Atherton

mischeif24

My_head_is_in_the_clouds_right_now

narcissadaffodil

ncislashipper317

NotoriousHRC

OPSManager

owlthewriter

permetstu_atlolevad

PrimaTiva35

princess_prentiss

PrincessGibbs1

quokkall

RadiantArabianNights28

Rose_DiVerona

SamWhity

Shawneeleigh1234

sheistheweapon

SiriusCatBennett

slouchingprovocatively

St4r_0f_D4v1d

Storybookgirl77

sunflower_happiness

theMarinersKraken05

TheSalty

undercoversconsequences

Whoa_MyNinja

woamx

Wolfcry22

woodencow

ZeeVah_Ninja

Here's wishing you a happy New Year! Remember to leave some love for the authors, and we'll see you in the next one!

Kudos ♡

[zeebee3]

Mother!! Your last fic slapped so hard? Omg. You're genius.

I wanted to ask you for some recommendations.👀 I love everything you've ever written, so I'm sure I'll love what you've enjoyed reading too.

If/when you have time, of course.💙

Ahhhhh okay this is going to be a long list, I can already tell 😂 I've tried to limit myself but there are SO MANY fics out there that I eat up again and again, and there will never be a comprehensive list of stuff I've enjoyed because so far, it's truly endless.

That said, here are the first handful that jumped to mind which I've read at least twice (that's got to be a metric of something, right?). I'm going to do the absolute barest summary for them because really, the author's summary and tags do more good than I ever will.

It also goes without saying that every fic by any of these writers is a 10/10 slam dunk, so make a cup of tea and scroll their work lists for more gems. I hope you enjoy!

Note: all of them are rated E

In no particular order...

Dramione

While They Were Sleeping by Dizzle00. The sexual tension in this one!!!!!! pls. I die, even on rereads. Mind the tags as it's an infidelity fic (dating not married).

Full Tilt by Khakis. BDD and a Hermione who is determined to take it. You're welcome in advance.

I Won't Kiss a Death Eater by Orolin. Wartime, forbidden love, clandestine meetings, THE SPICE, the moody vibes!! The podfic of this (linked at the bottom) is also insanely good.

A Healer's Guide to Mating with a Werewolf by sad_millennial. The build up and storytelling is so wonderful, it's truly mind boggling that this clocks in under 8k words for how rich and full of life it is!

The Horny Virgin Chronicles by SilverDragonGemini. 8th year, Hermione asks Draco to help her learn what she likes in bed. Every chapter is amazing, I read it in a single sitting and will be rereading for sure!

Serpents & Skulls by Wanderingfair. Muggle uni AU, secret society, mystery and romance! The moody, dark academia vibes are exceptional.

horny devil by SultryNuns. Draco grows horns, and they are sensitive. I know, I know--say less.

Mount by molivier. Brazilian Ju Jitsu as foreplay. AGAIN, say less.

I was just thinking about it, I'm not gonna do it by malfoyesque. Draco pulls out every time...until now. This is the Draco POV of our dreams.

The Wandmaker by Charingfae. Draco makes magical sex toys; Hermione buys one 🙃

A Marriage of Inconvenience by Beforetherealbook. The title says it all--add in virgin!Draco, pining!Draco, and baby we're cookin'

The Summer After by youhavemyswordandbow. Set in the summer before 8th year, Draco is sent to live with the Grangers. I have a crush on this whole story.

Triads

The Cock Tongue Incident by neilistic. (Hermione/Draco/Astoria). Hermione is summoned to Draco and Astoria's home to help with something. I'm full-on on my knees for this Astoria, and the premise is so unique and so so well done!

Tarnished by westxnorthwest. (Draco/Theo/Hermione). 8th year, the start of a triad, no prior Dreo (which is very very fun to see bloom).

Drarry

Only for October by DodgerKedavra. Every chapter is written based on the 2023 HP Cocktober prompt. Every chapter is also FANTASTIC 🫠

Former Things Come to Mind by DodgerKedavra. Okay I'm cheating on my self-imposed "one fic per author" rule but I simply can't not suggest everyone read this one. The prose. THE CHARACTERIZATIONS. I tear up every reread.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1. God-tier marriage law fic. This is the one that got me into that trope to begin with. PHEW.

Lumos by birdsofshore. Another classic Drarry but hey, if you haven't read it, let this be your cue!

OKAY that's it for now, but I am curating a list of my favorite other/rare pair fics as well so once I get that together, I'll do a follow up post.

Annddddd now I want to go reread half of these AGAIN 😅

[dreamwatch]

Home

Written for @steddieangstyaugust

Day #2 - Prompt: Ghosts | Word Count: 1626 | Rating: T | CW: Major Character Death, death of a parent, death of a spouse, grief | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Angst, future fic, adult children, older Eddie | AO3

Eddie kicks at another box trying to work out if it’s light enough for him to lift on his own, or whether it’s another one over filled with unread books that he should just donate. He grunts at the weight of it; books. He’ll leave it for Ryan. 

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he dusts or cleans these rooms, the moment a box or piece of furniture is removed, another cloud of dust seems to fill the air, settling over everything. After today it’s not really his problem anymore.

He can hear the kids giggling upstairs, so he follows the sound to the attic. They’ve accumulated so much shit over the years, it doesn’t seem to matter how many boxes they remove, the moment you turn around there’s another in it’s place; it’s like playing whack-a-mole with their own possessions.

He pushes upwards to the top of the steps and pokes his head inside the attic, letting out a dramatic “Ahem” as he does so. He watches on amused as Hope scrambles to hide something behind her back.

“I seem to remember sending you guys up here hours ago to clear this shit out. We haven’t got all day.”

Ryan gets up off the box he’s sitting on, another one marked ‘BOOKS’ in Hope’s neat handwriting. “You’re not supposed to be up here. Where’s your cane?” He holds his hand out and helps Eddie in the rest of the way.

“Yeah, well, if you were up here working like I asked you to, I wouldn’t have to be up here, would I?”

Hope makes that sorrowful face at him, the one she uses when she’s trying to wrap him around his finger.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she says.

“Yeah, yeah, turn it off, it’s not working today.”

Ryan tuts, and mutters “It always works.”

He’s not wrong.

Ryan helps him climb over the last of the trash and finds him a box to sit on. 

“What were you laughing at, anyway?”

They throw guilty looks at each other, but eventually Hope reaches behind her and pulls out a piece of shabby once-white fabric. It’s funny, the things that throw Eddie off balance. He’s got used to seeing past things, the sentimental stuff; photographs, jewellery. Like he’s trained himself to cope with it. But then he’ll get a bolt from nowhere, stupid little things that shouldn’t mean anything. Finding a bar of Steve’s favourite soap at the back of the bathroom cabinet. 

A silly hat he had to wear to work when he was a teenager.

The kids (kids, they’re nineteen and twenty-one now, Jesus Christ) look unsure, like they’ve fucked up somehow, which won’t do at all.

“So are you gonna let me see?” he asks with a smile.

Hesitantly, Hope places the old Scoops Ahoy hat on her head, and Eddie feels his heart being pierced. She’s always looked liked Steve, from the moment she was born. Now with her hair shorter, above her shoulders, it’s even more striking.

“Are you okay, Daddy? I’m sorry if—”

“Uh uh, nope. Nothing to be sorry for.” He swipes at his eyes quickly. “I love that you look so much like Poppy.” He stands awkwardly, Ryan reaching out to help him up, which he honestly hates. He’s fifty-one, he shouldn’t feel this old when he’s this young. 

“Alright, you guys good to get this stuff downstairs?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’ll get these down. Once Hopeless is done with that box.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Hey!” he claps. “No fighting. Thirty minutes then I’m locking up. You can be in the house when I do it, if you like. The new owners can have you.”

He gingerly makes his way down the attic steps, leaving his kids to their arguing. 

Forty five minutes later, Ryan and Hope drop the last of the contents of their home into the back of the truck. It was amazing how much they had accumulated over thirty years together, and how their possessions had mushroomed once babies entered their lives. 

Eddie stands in the middle of their old den, taking it in for the last time, until he hears a knock on the door behind him. He turns around and finds Ryan looking back at him, the worry etched in his face. He’s always been such a sensitive kid, kind of like Eddie but without the hard outer shell because he never needed it. He was loved from the second he entered the world, adored and cherished at every possible moment of his life. Eddie worries sometimes that they’ve made him too soft, can’t help but worry about both of them now they’re out there on their own, making their way in the world. 

“Are you ready to go?” Ryan asks, gently. 

He’s not. Selling up was a decision made for him, between his kids and an ailing Wayne. The house was too big for him to manage on his own, according to the kids, though he thinks a tumble on the stairs was actually what made them push for him to sell up. He’s moving into a small single storey house, close to Ryan.

Wayne, though, the contrary fucker that he was, had a different take.

“All houses are haunted, Ed. Every last one of them. We just can’t always see the ghosts.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Some people can stay in a place they made special, can live in a home that was filled with life and love for so long. They can draw on it, you know. Take comfort from it. But you’re letting it consume you, son. You’re not taking from it, it’s taking from you. I’m not going to be here for too much longer—”

“Don’t.”

“Come on, kiddo. I’m eighty-five in a couple of months. Let’s not do that, okay? I’m worried about you, Ed. The kids are worried about you. It’s time to move on, Bub.”

Eddie missed him so much. It wasn’t fair to lose them both so close to one another.

A home being haunted by it’s memories, by the people that had lived there and imprinted themselves on it, never seemed like a bad thing to Eddie. It had been packed to the rafters with love and happiness. 

He doesn’t bother stopping the tears, just wipes them away so that he can see more clearly. Ryan crosses the room and hugs him tight.

“I’ll move in. If you want to stay, I’ll move back.”

God, this kid. His throat tightens, takes his voice away from him for a moment, so Eddie can only shake his head in response. He wants them to have fun after the last couple of years of hurt, go back to college and enjoy it, not be at home looking after him because he’s a lonely old man. 

They stand in their family den, squeezing each other tightly, until they hear the horn of the car sounding repeatedly.

“God, your fucking sister, so like your Pop.”

Ryan laughs and runs his fingers under Eddie’s eyes, brushing away the last of his tears. 

“You’re a good kid, you know that? Go tell your sister I’m coming, just need five minutes.”

He kisses his boy on the top of his head, the way Wayne did to him all the way into adult hood. He used to think it was embarrassing, but he longed for it the older he got, cherished those little kisses. Misses them so much now. So Ryan doesn’t escape them. He never will.

He starts in the bedrooms, Hope’s first, double checking the closets even though he knows they’re empty. Smiling at the wallpaper Steve had picked out, the sunflower design replacing the Barbie pink that had been there for years. 

Ryan’s room looks so odd without the floors covered in clothes and magazines, and pretty much everything else he owned. Steve’s voice echoes in his head. “I don’t understand why we bought you a dresser if you’re just going to throw all your shit on the floor. You’re like your goddamn father.” Eddie blows out a breath and closes the door behind him.

Their room was a sanctuary, their place of peace. They made love here; lay under the covers holding hands, cuddling, giggling. Acting like disgusting teenagers is how Robin had described it. They had, all the way to the very end.

Eddie hadn’t been able to sleep in this room for the first couple of months after Steve died. The thought that he had been lying next to him when he went, that Steve might have needed him, that Eddie might have been able to save him if he’d just been awake, ate him raw. It took a while for everything he was being told to sink in, to accept it. The years of head trauma had finally caught up with Steve. He’d had a headache that night and gone to bed early, but that wasn’t unusual for him. They could never have known. It didn’t make it any easier.

He prods the wonky floorboard outside their room, smiling as it creaks. Steve always stepped on it even though he knew it annoyed the shit out of Eddie, would come into bed laughing as Eddie swore at him. He’s missed that noise so much.

When he gets downstairs he opens the front door and sees his kids sitting in the truck, Hope on her phone, Ryan trying to hide that he’s watching Eddie. He steps out onto the porch, and takes a last look down the hallway.

“Come with me,” he whispers. “If you’re still here, come with me. Please.”

A warm breeze whips around him, blowing some loose hairs out of his face. Eddie sighs, smiling to himself before he closes the door for the last time.

I did NOT plan to write for this but I was waiting for Deadpool and Wolverine to start and this popped in my head from somewhere... go figure!

Title is from Home by Foo Fighters, which is just perfect for this song and hurts my heart everytime I listen to it.

[kedsandtubesocks]

all the trouble we’ve seen

Max Phillips x Witch!Reader

written for the PPCU x MCR WRITING CHALLENGE | prompt song: You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison

summary: Max is in trouble, real deep shit after what he did at the office. So what’s gonna happen when you’re stuck baby sitting the most annoying (and handsome) vampire you’ve ever met?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Canon divergent AU (Max doesn’t die) enemies to lovers, forced proximity, magical realism, supernatural themes, Bi!Max, imprisonment, blood imagery, death mention & discussion, asshole but kinda sweet!Max, angst angst angst, scent kink, vampire moments with blood drinking, dry humping, smutty themes & heavy smutty implied, use of pet names

word count: 4.1k

a/n: thank you to @sp00kymulderr for hosting this challenge I’m so happy I could participate & I’m incredibly sorry this is getting posted later than expected!! This fic try wouldn’t be here without @perotovar @hauntedhowlett & @pedgito who let me cry/scream & gave me the guidance I need, i love each of you & I owe y’all my life lol and to you, if you decide to read this - know I’m thanking you a million times

The last time you saw Max Phillips was over five years ago, and you had threatened to hex his ass to hell.

You just never thought you’d see him again, especially in the mess he’s in. Though, the horrifying scene before you is almost fitting for Max.

The restaurant had been a mess when you arrived. You almost felt embarrassed. Bullets scattered all across the floor. Blood splattered against the floor. The gunfire had erupted when the cops tried to take Max in only for them to realize their bullets weren’t working.

Now Max sits among the shells with his arms raised up high in surrender. The chaos settles in debris all around. He smirks horrendously coyly when he sees you.

“Thought I smelled you, little witch.” He grins and the glimmer of his fangs shine out.

You simply say nothing, frowning hard and unamused.

Charged with high crimes after changing an entire business into vampires, the warrant had been put out on Max weeks ago. It wasn’t just the supernatural community looking for him, but actual law enforcement. This sleazy vampire just got sloppy at hiding.

Yet Max doesn’t even seem bothered one bit when your kind placed him in the magical chain spell. You always admired him for seemingly cool under pressure unbothered ease.

Until now in the council’s courtroom as the sentence is given and you see a new side of Max.

“Death.” The high magistrate declares cold and unflinching.

You almost choke on an inhale.

Max’s face falls, the first move vivid and true reaction he’s shown this entire time.

Max’s eyes immediately snap to you, and you see it - a flash of crystalized fear.

You don’t even know how to react.

Two guards come and drag him away from the council room.

“Wait! Wait! You can’t fucking do this to me!? Do you even know what they’re gonna do to a guy like me in prison?!” He screams.

It’s all he says before the doors close and he’s gone.

They would send him to die.

The council deemed him too dangerous. Carelessly exposing the supernatural and being so blatantly cocky about it upset them. You just never thought they would be this harsh.

Your body feels numb. You don’t even move out of your seat. A solid hand against your shoulder startles you out of your daze.

The high magistrate stands besides you grinning softly, almost expectant.

“You must be glad he’s finally in custody.” She says.

You couldn’t fully say you were.

“Didn’t expect that verdict.” You truthfully tell her.

She sighs, weary. “The cases made against him were too much, and this last instance of turning so many innocents into vampires is unacceptable.”

You understood that. But death?

“Besides, you out of all of us know how much of a bastard he is.” The magistrate says, and a bitterness bubbles in your mouth.

Now wearily nod.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but the law is the law and he needs to be punished.”

She squeezes your shoulder before drawing you into a solid hug.

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yeah mom, will do.” You sigh, hugging her back.

But you don’t get much sleep that night.

The walk to the dungeon the next day isn’t too far. The sleek business-like building simply melts away once you get past the attendant. Immediately you’re transported into the hollow prison. The cold stone, the stale air, the rumble of ancient dangerous magic, all form an eerie atmosphere.

The ruins on the wall illuminate a path that guides you.

The dungeon, an ever changing landscape, is specifically a holding space before the criminals are arranged for their sentences.

Max’s arm stretches out from the bars before you even see him.

“Was wondering what took you so long to come see me.”

You almost want to turn around and leave. You don’t even know why you came.

But you walk to the front of the jail cell. Even among the bars, Max is so damn handsome it makes you angry.

“So, you come to laugh at me?” He asks, rubbing at his jaw.

You stay silent.

“Can’t even say I look sexy in this jumpsuit. Putrid green and white stripes aren’t my colors.” He scoffs.

You still can’t say anything.

This vampire now begins pacing around his small cell.

His eyes flicker to you sharp.

“Did they tell you about my cellmate? He’s out for lunch right now. But he actually used magic to kill his ex’s wife’s lover. That’s who your fucked up system thinks I’m as bad ass. I didn’t even murder people! I brought them back to life better than before!”

You swallow hard, unable to find your voice still.

It pisses Max off that he rushes to the bars and slams his hands against them. The magic of the barrier against the metal sparks to life, refusing to let him leave.

“Say something, witch!” He snarls your name, and it jolts your heart.

You don’t say anything. You can’t even say why you came. So you turn on your heels and leave.

Max’s laugh, bitter and loud, bounces off the walls and haunts you the entire way home.

He would have a month in a prison hold before the actual sentence came. In that month he would be under the watch of another magic user…

And of course he picks you.

Your mother tried to change the arrangement, but the criminal had the right of choice.

Now you stand in the bleak apartment as Max glances around the place scrutinizing it.

“Couldn’t they have at least set us up in like a Hilton or something? This looks like some shit ass studio college dorm looking place.”

“The little prodigy witch couldn’t even get special treatment, huh?” He sneers at you.

You glare back.

“Why did you even pick me? To what? Just torture me too?” You finally snap.

“Oh of course.” He bows, annoyingly ridiculous and smirking bright. “If I’m going out, I’m taking you with me.”

You storm out of the living room and slam the bathroom to sulk alone.

The small studio apartment was highly protected, a jail cell in its own right. Protective barriers would keep anyone leaving or coming in.

Then the final piece arrives for your month-long confinement.

One of the secondary magistrates comes to place a sigil on Max’s neck. The skin sears with the magic pressing into him, and he even hisses.

“What the fuck, I forgot how awful it is being human.” He mutters almost slurred.

His powers would be completely suppressed now due to the spell. Max is practically human now.

Now it’s just you and him, for one damn month.

“I’m surprised they didn’t leave a coffin here.” You dryly comment.

“Oo, kinky. I knew you had it in you, witch.” Max smiles.

“We should at least fuck, that’s all we might be able to do here. Plus it’d be for old times sake.” Max immediately offers, and you make a disgusted face.

“You haven’t even slept with me!” He argues absolutely upset. “If you do, I’ll make you see why you should’ve back then.”

He smirks, winking at you.

Back then - Romania.

It had been your first big aboard mission, and it was where you first met Max. Still so cocky and smug, you hate how effortlessly he charmed you at that college bar. He constantly purred at how he hadn't seen a witch as cute as you, except how unfortunate it was that witches' blood like yours smelled so bad he couldn’t stay near you long. Then you spotted Max fucking a waitress behind a bar and didn’t want anything to do with him.

Still don’t. So you simply decide to ignore him.

Most days you stay focused on your laptop letting Max talk aimlessly like an annoying podcast host with no listeners.

“You know what’s really evil? Why hasn’t Philadelphia Cream Cheese brought those good strawberry cheesecake snacks from the 90’s? Like, why are they withholding the goods?” He says lounging on the couch.

Ignore.

“Oh you think ignoring me is gonna break me? You’re cute, sweetheart.” Max scoffs.

Ignore.

He even starts a full lecture about the importance to the seductive nature of sales, and you put your headphones in.

Eventually when you start preparing dinner, and he’s slumped on the couch, this annoying vampire blurts out -

“I miss my mom.”

You almost think you misheard him.

“Guess getting closer to death makes you think of things like that. She would’ve liked you.” He continues. “She always said I needed someone good to keep me in check.”

He never once mentioned his mom.

“Always thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.” Max adds soft. “So damn smart and strong.”

Before grabbing the pasta you need to boil, his words freeze you.

“Should’ve run away with you. Wanted to.” He comments wistfully.

“No you didn’t.” You finally speak, and your voice creaks like a haunted house.

Max sits up immediately staring at you.

“I’m being serious.” His voice is unwavering just like his hard earthen eyes.

“Always wanted you. Always think I will.”

“You’re spewing bullshit now.” You flat out tell him. “I saw you that night with that waitress.”

Max sits up more. A hyper awareness rises in you, and you notice how thin the air feels now as the vampire moves to you in the kitchen.

“Besides, you always made it really fucking clear you couldn’t stand to be around me.” You add with a bitter bite.

“Little witches like you always smell so damn bad” - it’s like what he always said. You even repeat his words back to him.

Max stays surprisingly silent now, transformed into the deadly predator he is. Before you realize it you’re pressed against the kitchen wall at a dizzying speed. This handsome vampire stares down at you so close.

You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You know the spell is doing its job at suppressing him. But what is more dangerous is how badly your heart races.

His fingers run up against your chest delicately then to your neck where they stop.

“Only said all that because you drove me so damn crazy.” He mutters lower and hesitant than you’ve ever heard.

“Knew if I let myself even have one taste of you I’d never recover. I’d follow you forever.” He adds.

You swallow hard, barely able to breathe. Then you make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

You know his powers are suppressed. The magic radiating off him smells like a dusty room. Yet his eyes lock you in, almost hypnotizing you as if he was in his full form.

You can’t tell who moves first. You or him. It’s simply a collision of lips messily pressing against each other with Max instantly molds his body into yours.

He drags you to the couch in the living room. The boiling water sits on the stove overflowing. You can’t even seem to care. Not when he eats you out with a possessed consumption, a type of devouring that makes your eyes roll back into another dimension.

You’re surprised at how generous a lover he is, and how well endowed he is. It’s all delicious and good. You hate how much his kisses and heat melt into your bones.

You even hate how easily you fall asleep in his arms.

The next morning you’re still tangled in his hold.

“Haven’t slept like that in decades,” Max yawns groggily when he wakes up. “But that’s what a good fuck and pretty company to sleep with does to a man.”

You snort smacking his bare chest.

The mood shifts after that.

You and him watch shitty day time television together and really get into The Price is Right. You spend hours talking to him about everything and anything.

He also fucks you until your brain melts out of your skull and maybe even after that.

The days melt together and what’s worse, it feels natural falling into place beside Max.

“If we didn’t have all this…” he waves his hand around the room while you and him lie in bed together still not wanting to get up.

“I think we would’ve been good together.” Max muses.

You snort. “We would’ve killed each other.”

Max doesn’t say anything, instead lets his fingers just dance along your bare skin.

You’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he begins to cough. The cough started up last week. Now it sounds hoarse, getting worse over these past few days.

The binding spell is doing its job, keeping him suppressed, but it’s essentially draining him to the brink of no return.

That reality is now manifesting before you and terrifies you. So you’ve tried to sooth him, make him tea or even rub his back.

It’s a ominous awareness that seeps into the cracks of this facade you’ve been in.

“We should run away.” Max says suddenly the next morning after he fucked you senseless in the shower.

“What?!” You shriek.

“You heard me, witch.” He grins toothy. “We should run away, you and me.”

He nudges his chin at you, and your stomach flips.

Now you’re the one staying quiet as your mind scrambles like a frantic rat running from the light.

“Hello?!” He cries out your name, and his voice snaps your spine straight.

“So are you really just gonna let them kill me?!” The vampire snarls.

“You broke the law, like extremely. This is the punishment.” You fire back with a snap.

“You know what’s the real damn punishment? Being here with you. Knowing none of this will matter and...” he cuts himself off fast and glares hard.

You can taste what he’s going to say.

This make believe dream of living with him, of maybe having a life together is just a dream.

A contorted nightmare of what is to come.

You and Max avoid each other the rest of the day.

Until another coughing fit comes, and he collapses in the kitchen. It’s scary watching this suave powerful hunter wither away into almost a husk of who he is. You immediately rush over to help steady him.

Calling out his name, he’s barely in and out of consciousness.

You’re panicking. You know this is what would happen. He only has a week left before his execution.

But you can’t stand this. You don’t want to see him suffer. Not when you’ve felt the Max beneath his grimey jackass surface crust, felt his tender kisses, seen the bashful smiles he gives you, known the way he makes you feel-

So you lower your neck down to him.

“Max, do it.” You order.

“But what about…” he mutters through a wheeze.

“Don’t care. We’ll figure it out.” You firmly cut him off.

Max’s hands shake as he draws himself to you. He even places the softest butterfly of kisses against your skin.

Then he bites down.

His fangs aren’t sharpened so the piercing of his teeth into your skin makes you hiss, feels so much more animalistic than you would have thought.

Then the pleasure immediately washes over.

A honey syrupy warmth courses into your veins, and you moan feeling him suck at you, feeling his tongue lip out to your skin.

You don’t even realize Max has shifted, gained more strength, until your back hits the cold kitchen floor and your hands clutch onto him.

He slides his body between your legs and immediately grinds up against your core.

“Oh fuck, knew it. I knew you’d taste amazing.” He slurs watery as your blood fills his mouth.

You moan more clutching at him as your hips rise to grind against his more. It feels like you could burst out of your skin at any moment with this all consuming pleasure.

Max dry humps you more and you don’t care that you’re picking up a more frantic pace trying to reach your edge.

“Shit yeah, give it to me.” He commands, and your climax hits you dizzying that your vision goes out for a minute.

But you’re not the only one, Max groans loud, a punched out moan signaling his release.

“No one’s made me fucking come in my pants since I was a little bat. You naughty little thing.” He mumbles with a grin against your skin, kissing and licking away at the wound he gave you.

When Max lifts up from your neck, you swear his eyes flicker a shade of crimson.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms. A warmth has returned to his cheeks. You hate that this dumb vampire hasn’t wiped off your blood from his face and instead seems to wear it proud.

“Your blood is my honor badge, witch.” Max winks, and you roll your eyes.

Now the silence returns.

“I’ve wanted to ask…Why did you do it? Change all those people in the office?”

In his arms, you feel Max shrug.

“Why not? Humans are weak, easily broken. Why not give ‘em a shot to be better? If not, they're just food, like a walking grocery store for my kind.”

A dread sickness sinks into you hearing him talk this unbothered and slightly cruel.

“You were human. You couldn’t have always thought like that.” You say firm even as you your fingers trace against his.

Max sighs.

“Yeah that’s true. But love and life’s a bitch ain’t it.”

Curiously, you can’t help but ask what happened.

Max stays quiet. You’re worried this soft bonding bubble has popped.

“I fell in love right before I turned.” His voice takes that uncharacteristically soft somber tone.

Max tells you about the man he met and how the two of them vowed to be together. But then Max was changed, and his partner saw him as a monster. Then all the faith and love shattered right before Max’s eyes.

So, this existence has been a prison of its own for him.

“Then I met you, someone else stuck like me between the mundane and magical.” Max says and your heart jumps.

“You had laughed so damn loud at something the other witch with you at the bar said and it annoyed me. Didn’t think someone could be that happy.”

You’re about to snap at him until he continues.

“I wanted to annoy you as much as I could until I knew you inside and out.”

It’s a Max way of saying he wanted to be with you.

Something heavy and rusting settles in your chest and drags you down to a depth you don’t want to face.

“You still don’t know me.” You mutter.

“I know enough, know you aren’t the type that wants to be an apprentice magistrate, much less a high one. That sounds like what that mother of yours wanted.” Max comments, always seeming to just have the best ability at reading people and it makes you fidget in his arms.

And he’s right.

You never wanted to be a magistrate.

You have dreams of a beautiful occult shop, warm and inviting, getting to run it yourself with all the knowledge of magic you know. Binding and blending the supernatural with the everyday world - that’s what you dreamed of.

You even tell him this.

Max surprisingly listens to it all patiently.

“We could make it happen.” He suggests. “After all, I’m a damn wizard in business.”

That makes you laugh and he joins in.

But it’s a candy coated dream holding a truthful rot beneath all.

“There’s this saying I heard once,” Max says suddenly. “Life’s but a dream for the dead.”

“That’s…morbid.” You reply.

“But true.” Max shrugs simply. “Trust me, I’ve been dead long enough to know. Guess that dream might be ending soon.”

It’s that unspoken festering truth.

The end is approaching.

It now feels as if the prison chains around Max have possibly been around you as well.

What will you do?

Before you head to bed you notice the light from the streetlights casts a shadow from a window that crawls across the floor - it looks like jail bars.

That night you let Max drink from you again and go to absolute heaven. Because if this is your hell then why not taste the sublime even if for a little bit.

You feel more drained than normal, barely staying awake. Max softly reassures you it’s because he’s fed off you twice.

“Just get some rest honey, I’ll be here.” He kisses your shoulder and spoons you in his hold.

Wearily you slip into dreams of a hotel room down the street, where you and Max would escape to. You’d change your name and he’d change his. Max of course manages to negotiate a buy and you get your shop filling it to the brim with tarot cards and blessed candles. It’s your own little slice of heaven, and Max complains about it all the time. But you’re happy, and he stays right beside you.

And then you wake up.

Your mother, the high magistrate, actually is the one shaking you awake.

“What happened?!” She cries petrified and panicked.

Wearily you glance around and find more magic users and guards storm in and out of the apartment.

Max is gone.

Claw marks scratch against the door and the wood is broken open. He found a way out. Absolute horror crashes into you.

“Did you let him drink from you?! Answer me!” Your mom demands screaming your name.

You’re too terrified to answer. The silence is enough and your mom explodes.

“How did you forget?! A vampire drinking a witch's blood allows them to momentarily gain abilities to break seals and spells?!” She screams.

You had been so deep in this delusion… you hadn’t even thought of that.

Your blood runs cold.

That bastard had charmed you with all the suave of a slug. And here you are, left the buyer hoodwinked by the rotten lie he sold you.

All that’s left from Max is a single piece of paper written for you.

Life is but a dream baby…

Crunching the note in your hands, you set the paper on fire.

-

Your prison cell is more comfortable than others and you know that. Being the daughter of a high magistrate is like being the child of a president. You understand the privileged benefits that it brings.

But a cage is still a cage.

You’d be in this single waiting room cell of the dungeon for another day until it was decided where you would go for your crimes of assisting a fugitive.

Your mother is still trying to argue that you were under the influence of Max. In some way you were, but just not in the way she speaks of.

Just thinking about that monster makes your blood boil.

Down the hall of the dungeon, a faint clang echos like something hit the floor. Your guard curiously peeks down the dark shifting labyrinth

The guard’s eyes flicker to you for a brief moment, then he walks off to investigate the noise.

You don’t give it much thought and return to reading your book.

The new footsteps come clocking down the hall. They don’t sound like the familiar boots of the guards and you wonder if it’s someone from the magistrate’s court.

“You miss me baby?”

The air goes still.

Your reaction to hearing Max’s smooth acidic voice is visceral.

You throw your book at him.

“You fucker!” The emotions take over, volcanic and consuming.

He’s dressed in the nicest suit you’ve ever seen and covers his head from your book attack. But you also don’t miss the blood soaking his shirt, still lingering around his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey! Is that anyway you should treat your rescuer?” His face scrunched up in confusion is still as handsome as ever.

“You’re the reason why I’m here to begin with!” You snap.

He hushes you.

“You want us to get caught?!” Max seethes.

Before you can yell at him more, your vampire walks forward and kicks open the gate. The magic shimmers, a fluttering electric wave, then crumbles as the lock opens.

Max stubbornly walks over to snap off the binding spell on your wrists even though it faintly burns his hands as you notice the harsh sizzling sound.

He really is setting you free.

You’re almost too stunned to move now staring at him confused.

Max sighs annoyingly dramatic. “Baby, are you coming or what?”

He holds his hand out, eyes expectant, but there’s a glimmer of hesitation.

You don’t grab his hand, but instead rush forward to kiss him frenzied, not even caring there’s still traces of blood against his chin. It becomes a distorted but consecrated blood vow sealing. You’re thankful this dumb vampire is quick to react grabbing onto you with a fierce hold.

The guards would be coming soon. Max’s intrusion and your escape will be noticed if you don’t act fast.

But for right now, it’s just you and him.

And you think, it might be you and this vampire until the sun bleeds.

And as you place your hand in Max’s - you realize you’re more than okay with that.

[artdcnaldson]

my former horseback rider ass is here with the switch!dodge mason agenda 🫡

so many fics about dodge teaching you about rodeoing and how to ride (which i fucking love don’t get me wrong hehe) but what about reader who also rides and competes? sort of enemies to lovers? maybe you’re a barrel racer and he’s a saddle bronc, so he likes to jab at your event and you jab at his.

although you’re not competing against each other directly, you see each other at basically every rodeo and have developed a wicked rivalry between you. truthfully, neither of you know how or why it started. you got along when you were younger, little kids stumbling around rings and playing in the dirt while your parents rode, but once you hit your teen years it was like a switch flipped. he started pulling on your pigtails and you were never gonna back down from that fight.

now, a few weeks post-graduation, you’re double checking your tack when in comes dodge fucking mason fresh off his bronc and still riding his adrenaline high.

“good luck out there with your little obstacle course,” he sneers at you.

“at least i’ll keep my braincells in tact instead of losing them all getting bucked off… or wait, you didn’t have any to begin with did you?” you roll your eyes.

you almost miss the way dodge’s eye twitches and his jaw clicks. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe whatever back and forth you two have been doing has just finally reached its breaking point. suddenly, he’s pulling you into the empty stall next to yours and crowding you against the wall. he grips your jaw and forces your eyes to meet his.

“you think you’re smarter than me, huh? you think you’re so slick, but i see the way you look at me. you’re as fucked up for me as i am for you.”

the dam breaks. his lips are on yours and his hands are everywhere, one grabbing your ass, the other snaking under your shirt. you’re returning his fervor with your own because as much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. you have been looking, you have been simmering every time he’s put his goddamn hat on some buckle bunny who doesn’t even know what a bridle is.

the hand on your ass moves to tease at the waistband of your jeans. ever the infuriating gentleman, he’s asking for permission. you grind your hips forward and he takes the hint, shoving his hand into your panties.

“fuck— already so wet for me, baby,” he breathes into your neck, where he’s been laving open mouthed kisses that make your head spin. you let your head thump against the wall behind you and moan as his fingers find your clit. he thinks he has you under his thumb, and in a way he does, but you’re not letting him win.

in an instant, you’re pushing forward and his back is hitting the wall on the other side of the stall. his eyes widen and his mouth falls open.

“aw dodge, you’re all fucked up for me?” you grin, gripping his now straining cock through his jeans and giving it a harsh squeeze. “you know what i think? i think you’re just like your broncs out there. i think you just need a good ride to calm you the fuck down.”

he’s panting now, the shift in his demeanor so clear and desperation suddenly written all over his face. he nods his head and a whimper escapes his lips. his big wet eyes search your face and you’re already unbuckling his belt, but you pause and raise a prompting eyebrow at him.

“i’ll— i’ll be good,” he whines. “i’ll be good for you, i fucking swear, just touch me, please touch me”

your grin widens, “see? was that so hard?”

oop this got so long but i need to put him in his place and have him put me in mine after ,,, sighhh power struggles <333

-🎀

i think you just need a good ride to calm you the fuck down

What if I just fucking DIED

sighhhhh dodge mason fucking around with pretty little thing that gives him attention at the rodeo. And you saw it, one time. The way he lead some skanky white trash girl into the backseat of his car. Shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did, but you watched him peel off the stupid, tight shirt she wore, mouth at her tits, grab her ass through her tight jeans with the bedazzled pockets.

You scoffed. Of fucking course that’s what he liked. Bimbos playing cowgirl Barbie.

And it’s fucking infuriating because he’s good. It would be easier if he had fumbling hands and couldn’t find your clit and didn’t set every single nerve of yours alight. But you’re aching for it— while he shoved you against the wall in the empty stall and rubbed at your clit, mouth searing and hungry against yours.

But you can’t let him have you that easy. He needs to fucking work for it. You’re not one of the girls he takes to his car, fucks, and leaves out to dry— you’re the grand prize.

He’s hard through his jeans, straining against the thick fabric. He bucks against your hand as you palm him and mouth at his throat. You have to make him beg— make him ask for what he’s so freely given all the time. To be a good boy and prove he deserves it.

Need him to sink to his knees and eat you out, his hands on your ass, guiding you to grind against his mouth and face. Make him prove he can get a girl off before he gets to sink into you, to fuck you nice and rough the way you like <3

Walking out of the stall after pretending like nothing happened, like he didn’t just cum in your mouth and he can’t still taste you on his tongue. Like you won’t have bruises shaped like his fingers on your hips.