#fic: kissing prompts

[sweetdreamsofgelato]

about the kiss prompt 3, 7, or11 with either Sy, Walter, or August. or Charles if we are feeling Tudory. lol

The #7 “I’ve missed you” kiss screamed Walter to me. This is slightly angsty, but I hope you enjoy it!

(gif from google, if it's yours pls let me know so I can properly credit)

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader (You)

Rating: T for angst; hurt/comfort vibes

Word Count: 667

It was no secret that Walter was a gruff man. His oft-sullen and monosyllabic nature were rather notorious, and whilst no one ever appreciated being on the receiving end, most colleagues made allowances for something they deemed personally beneficial. His apparent ability to emotionally detach meant he was routinely saddled with the worst of the worst: the cases no one else wished to touch because of the inescapable knock-on effect on one’s mental health. Most assumed he was impervious to the foulest dregs of humanity and the horrific emotional gamut he ran each day. Believed that as if by some innate magic, he was able to simply absorb the repeated exposure to an endless parade of tragedy and defuse it all away into nothingness.

How wrong they were.

Walter felt everything and the trauma was acutely visceral. It lived in the permanent dark smudges under his haunted eyes, made its home in the unyielding tension in his every muscle, and burrowed into his soul where it inevitably metamorphosed into the existential exhaustion he continually suffered. His very essence was scarred, and it was a burden he bore without complaint so that the abysmal darkness never touched those closest to him.

His stoicism was how he survived and protected his peace.

It was how he protected you.

And whilst some took exception to his compartmentalisation by accusing him of being unnecessarily cold or distant, you understood and accepted it because you knew one thing with the utmost certainty:

No matter how far gone he may seem to be, Walter always came home.

It wasn’t easy, and the latest case had been particularly gruelling. Most evenings he stumbled in well past midnight and immediately collapsed on the sofa without touching the food you’d left wrapped on the kitchen worktop or taking a shower. Sometimes without even bothering to undress. After a paltry bit of sleep, he awoke before the sun and did it all over again. Days went by without seeing each other, let alone speaking, and it wasn’t for lack of wanting on his part. You knew it was because he was in the thick of it and processing that left him feeling tainted in many ways, and he never wanted that anywhere near you.

But you kept on making meals he could eat in passing and leaving extra cosy blankets and fresh clothes in the spaces he most frequently dropped. Held his hand in companionable silence when words were all but impossible. You continued to ease his burden the best ways you knew how because:

Walter always came home.

Just as he did that night. You were stretched out on the sofa enjoying a bit of television and a warm drink when Walter swept into the house on a wave of energy unseen in recent weeks.

You caught sight of his coat and hat flying through the corridor. His bag quickly followed, the lot chucked and forgotten at the bottom of the stairs. He finally came into view, hopping on one socked foot whilst desperately tugging at the boot on the other. He gave a triumphant whoop when he finally got it off. You made to rise, but he motioned for you to stay put and beelined for the sofa.

He collapsed into your open arms with a contented groan, and even though he was a beast of a man, you relished the weight of him. So solid and reassuring and real.

He enveloped your body with his and cradled your face in his hands. His fingertips sank into the soft column of your neck and yours dragged through his dark curls. Foreheads met, and in the barest moment of mingling sighs, his nose gently nudged yours before taking your mouth with his. His overgrown scruff scratched and stung with every drag of his lips but you cared nought. He was here, and that's all that mattered.

Neither desperate nor impatient, this kiss was slow and deliberate. By pouring himself into you and allowing you to return in kind, it was a recharging of the soul. Checking back in.

He reluctantly broke away, breathed into your neck and whispered, “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Welcome back, Walter.”

#henry cavill #walter marshall #detective walter marshall #night hunter #walter marshall fan fiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #sweetdreamsofgelato writes #fic: kissing prompts

[luxaofhesperides]

Could i request a ghostlight where danny can turn into a dragon, it could be though a curse or just training from queen dora?

Like dragon Danny seeing the yellow signal outfit and thinking "mmmmm gold, shiny, must take".

He should probably be more worried about being cursed.

Scratch that, he should definitely be more worried about being cursed. However, it wasn’t done intentionally or in bad faith. This is just the consequences of him, Sam, and Tucker fucking around and finding out when left unsupervised with the grimoire of a long dead witch.

In their defense, they didn’t know Tucker could use magic. This revelation both upset Tucker, who refused to be swayed from tech, and Sam, who thought she was a better fit for magic considering how goth she is. Danny hadn’t really cared, since he was too busy being turned into a dragon. At least it isn’t like with Dora’s necklace; Danny is still himself, can think clearly, and isn’t overcome by rage. 

He’s just… Danny. But as a dragon.

“Well, you do something to fix him then!” Tucker shouts, waving a hand in the air angrily, “Since you want to be so good at magic, you do it then!”

“I would if I could! But you’re the one who gets to use magic, so figure it out and turn Danny back!” Sam shouts back, getting in Tucker’s face with a fierce scowl.

Danny sighs, shifting uncomfortably. His room is not big enough for a dragon, and his back is starting to cramp up. He looks longingly out the window to the clear skies that call to him, and wonders when his friends will stop fighting. 

They keep shouting, so he doubts they’ll be able to focus on actually helping him for at least another hour.

The only silver lining about the situation is that Jazz and his parents are gone, taking the weekend to visit a few colleges so Jazz can decide which one she wants to go to. Though he’s been cursed into dragon form and his friends are yelling about it, at least his family can’t make it any worse with their attempts to ‘fix’ things. 

There’s a lull in the yelling, Sam and Tucker both turning their attention back to the grimoire. Danny shifts his wings, tail flicking slightly, and leans his head closer. He wishes he could help figure this out, but he can’t talk in this form, and any attempt at charades will destroy his room. 

His friends look focused, at least. So maybe they’ve decided to focus on finding solutions instead of fighting. 

“Here,” Sam says, shoving the grimoire over to Tucker roughly. “Try that.”

Tucker reads over the spell, then scoffs and pushes the grimoire back. “That’s not going to fix anything. Didn’t you read it? It clearly says truth is the greatest revenge, revealing one’s true form force it into light. It’s talking about making people who are secretly cruel turn ugly or something like that! It’s not going to do anything for Danny!”

“It says one’s true form and Danny’s is a human! That would work!”

And they go right back to arguing.

Danny sighs, turning to stare out the window again.

In any other circumstance, being a dragon would be so fun. He has wings! He’s big and has claws and can probably breathe fire! And it’s not making him act on animal instincts or anything! If he could just be outside…

He glances at Sam and Tucker again. 

Maybe he can go outside, enjoy the curse a bit before they figure out a way to undo it. Spend some time flying around with wings. 

All the curse did was turn him into a dragon. It just changed his form. If he still has his ghost powers, if the curse didn’t change his nature from halfa to dragon…

Carefully, Danny focuses on his tail and tries to make it intangible. There’s a strange sensation of ice running down his spine, then it goes into his tail. In the next second, his tail drops through the floor, and Danny bites down a grin. 

He is so out of here. 

He gives Sam and Tucker another glance; they’ve got their heads bent over the grimoire, paying no attention to him. 

Perfect.

Danny goes fully intangible and sinks through the floor of his bedroom, then maneuvers his way outside the house. As soon as he’s out, standing beneath the sunlight and able to stretch out his new body, Danny pulls his power back and takes a few careful steps on the grass, testing his balance. His wings shift on his back, and he stretches them out, feeling the way his new limbs move.

Everything feels natural, as if he’s always been a dragon.

Taking a deep breath, Danny spreads his wings out and takes off running. A few hard pumps of his wings gets him into the air, and he can’t help but let out a joyful roar. 

Distantly, he hears Tucker and Sam yelling again, but he’s too happy to be free of that room to care. Let them argue. He wants to have fun.

Staying in Amity Park is a no go; Val might go after him, thinking he’s a threat, and ghosts could pop out at any time to cause problems. He might as well take this chance to fly around wherever he wants. Chicago wouldn’t be too hard to reach with how fast he’s flying, but he’s been there before and doesn’t want to stay in Illinois. 

What other big city is nearby that he can fly to?

New York?

Or, better yet, Gotham. 

It’s definitely a bad idea, but if any city is able to handle a dragon appearing without warning, it would be Gotham. Plus, he might get to see some of the heroes in action! Sure, it’s the middle of the day, but surely a dragon is a good enough reason for Batman to show up before the sun sets. 

Mind made up, Danny flies up into the clouds and heads towards Gotham, following the roads out of Amity Park. 

The flight is quick. It takes barely over an hour to see the dark figures of Gotham’s tallest buildings, fog surrounding the city like something out of a horror movie. The sun glints off the ocean behind the city for a rare, cloudless day. He’s heard stories about Gotham’s weather, how dreary it is, the occasional acid rain, the gloominess of it all. As bad as his luck is, it seems that the sunny day is trying to give him something good to even it out after being cursed into a dragon.

Excited, Danny angles himself down, diving out of the lower clouds and shifts his wings to catch on a wind current that smoothly sends him towards the city.

Just to be careful, he goes invisible as he gets closer, staying out of sight once he enters the city proper. 

Noise overwhelms him immediately, cars honking and voices yelling, the occasional gunshot and sound of something breaking. It makes Danny wince, disoriented enough to make him falter as he flies above the streets.

Amity Park is quiet and peaceful in comparison, so much so that he hadn’t realized just how enhanced his senses had become in a dragon’s form. 

The sounds of everything are so much, and all the movement of such a big city is dizzying. At least he can’t smell anything but salt from the sea; if he had to deal with the constant smell of blood, guts, and sewage, he would find a way to fully die to get away from it.

He slows down to a smooth glide, weaving his way between buildings as he takes in the city. Even with the sun out, it’s gloomy, the tall buildings casting shadows across the streets, a mix of art deco and gothic architecture filling up the space. He wonders if he should find some place up high he can rest, maybe bathe in the sun for a bit until he felt like moving again. If he managed to fall asleep, that might give Sam and Tucker enough time to figure out how to undo the curse.

“Ow! Shit, that hurts.”

Or he indulge in his curiosity and check up on whoever just cursed loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of Gotham.

It takes a minute of searching before Danny’s eyes zero in on a bright flash of yellow moving across rooftops. 

All other colors seem dull in comparison, and Danny has just enough time to think, Oh, there’s the dragon instincts taking over, before he’s flying after it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time the yellow leaps out of the shadows, it’s as if it glows. As if Danny’s chasing sunlight. 

He gets close, but loses the yellow every so often with how he has to maneuver around buildings, putting his new flying abilities to the test in an effort to keep up.

Then the yellow comes to an abrupt stop. Danny can’t stop in time and flies past it, tilting his body and spreading out his wides as far as he can to make a tight turn. 

“I’m fine, just bruised up, but I feel like I’m being followed,” the yellow says to no one. There’s a pause, and then the yellow says, “I don’t see anything, is the thing.”

If the yellow has anything more to say, it doesn’t get the chance to do more than open its mouth before Danny’s crashing into it, tackling it to the ground. 

He’s elated as they roll across the roof, the living sunlight caught safe in his arms. He holds it close to his chest, protecting it until they come to a stop, dropping his invisibility as a low rumble builds in the back of his throat. The dragon brain has thoroughly taken over, and it takes far too long to wrestle control back from it.

Once he’s able to think more clearly, Danny looks down at the poor guy he’s caught and realizes, hey that’s a hero!

And then he realizes, that’s a hero. I fucked up.

He tries to say sorry, but all that comes out is a low chuff. The hero, who he can recognize as the Signal because who else wears mostly yellow in Gotham, leans back as much as he can, trapped in Danny’s grasp.

“Hey, dragon,” Signal says nervously. “I’m really hoping you didn’t catch me because you were looking for a snack.”

Danny huffs, bumping his head against Signal’s chest. He hopes he doesn’t come across as aggressive, because all he wants to do is laze around with a hero, his dragon brain happy to keep hold of its yellow sunshine.

He’s not going to let go of Signal, though. He intends to make the most of this moment while he can.

“Okay. You seem friendly? That’s good I guess.” Signal sighs, then tries to wiggle out of Danny’s grip. Danny doesn’t budge until Signal gasps and curls into himself, clearly in pain.

Worried, Danny lets go of him and tries to see what’s wrong, his snout poking against the Signal’s ribs.

The Signal hisses out a breath, trying to push Danny away. “Stop, don’t do that. Man, I hope my ribs aren’t broken. That would suck.”

That would suck. Rib injuries are the worst, and the bruises always seem to stay longer on ribs than anywhere else, in Danny’s experience. He would love to offer the Signal some ice, but as a dragon, he’s not sure how to use that particular power. He settles instead for backing off and making himself small, offering an apologetic rumble.

“Thanks,” Signal smiles, gingerly uncurling from where he’s hunched over, an arm crossing his stomach, protecting it. “I guess you’re friendly, then?”

Danny nods.

“...And you can understand me?”

Danny nods harder, a high pitched growl slipping out of his mouth. 

“That’s so cool. What are you doing here in Gotham?”

It’s not a yes or no question, so Danny’s stuck on how to answer when words are so far out of reach. He shrugs, wings shifting against his back, then carefully bumps his head against the Signal’s helmet. 

“Yeah, that was a bad question. Do you need help?”

Danny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. He is cursed, but so far, being a dragon isn’t all that bad. It sucks that he can’t talk, but everything else is cool! He just doesn’t want to be a dragon forever. But it’s nothing the Signal can help with, so Danny just shrugs again.

The Signal tilts his head. “Alright. I guess I’ll get going then, and you can chill up here.”

The low growl comes suddenly, without him even thinking, and Danny wraps himself around the hero again. Distantly, he thinks that he should stop, that this is technically holding the Signal in place against his will, but the much louder, dragon part of him is deeply upset by the thought of the Signal leaving while he’s injured. Danny can protect him, so there’s no need for him to go anywhere! In fact, he’s only safe as long as he’s with Danny!

He leans more of his weight onto the Signal until they both fall back onto the roof, pinning the hero in place. 

Danny tries to be gentle, but the impact still makes Signal groan, tensing up in pain.

Sorry, he tries to say, the words coming out in a low chuffing noise. He draws his tail up to curl around the Signal so he’s completely surrounded by Danny, kept safe from anything that would try to attack him. 

Letting out a breath, the Signal lightly knocks his head against Danny’s neck, the helmet barely felt through Danny’s scales. “Alright, Oracle, can you send someone to my location? I’m a bit stuck.”

It’s hard to hear, but Danny manages to make out a voice saying, “Black Bat is heading there now. What’s wrong?”

“I’m a bit stuck.”

“Injured?”

“Just my ribs, but that’s not really the problem. There’s a dragon who’s very determined to keep me on this roof.”

“A dragon,” the voice repeats. 

“Yeah. It seems to like me? But it’s also not letting me leave. So. I’m stuck.”

There’s a pause, then a soft burst of static before the voice says, “I’m going to send a message to everyone else just in case they’re able to provide any back up. I’m sure Tim is looking for an excuse to ditch Bruce at that accounting meeting.”

“Guess I’ll just wait to be rescued, then,” Signal says, sighing. Then he tilts his head up to look at Danny. “Is there some way you could talk to me? To pass the time. Maybe morse code? Do you know what that is?”

Dragon brain makes him stupid, apparently, because Danny does know morse code. He didn’t even think of alternative ways of communication once he discovered talking was impossible with his new vocal chords. 

It’s probably not even dragon brain. It’s just Danny brain that makes him like this.

Embarrassed, Danny drops his head onto the roof, drawing his tail closer to himself so it can cover his eyes, his best attempt at hiding his face. Then, with one sharp claw, he taps out Y.E.S.

“Oh! So, what’s up?”

N.O.T. D.RA.G.O.N. H.U.M.A.N. G.O.T. C.U.R.S.E.D.

“Why did you say you didn’t need help if you got cursed?!”

Danny wants to say it was an accident, but has no confidence that he can spell ‘accident’ correctly, so he goes with F.R.I.E.N.D. M.A.D.E. M.I.S.T.A.K.E.

“And can they fix it?”

I.D.K. T.H.E.Y. W.E.R.E. F.I.G.H.T.I.N.G. Danny huffs out a breath, flicking his tail in annoyance as he uncurls slightly, giving Signal some more breathing space. He doesn’t look as stressed out anymore, which is nice, but he still holds his ribs tenderly, careful not to move too much. G.O.T. B.O.R.E.D. L.E.F.T.

The Signal taps his own fingers against the roof, thinking after he takes in Danny’s words. “Do you think we can call them and see if they know how to fix it? I doubt you want to be a dragon forever.”

N.O. P.H.O.N.E.

“It’s cool, we can use mine.” And he pulls out a cell phone from… somewhere. Danny has no idea where. It’s like he blinked, and a phone suddenly appeared. His hero suit probably has a lot of hidden compartments and pockets to hold as much stuff as possible, but it’s so well designed that Danny can’t begin to think of where he’d put anything. Especially when his dragon brain keeps getting distracted by how nice the yellow is.

Danny taps out Tucker’s number when Signal asks for it, watching as the call connects and is put on speaker.

“Hello?” Tucker’s voice says, hesitant and a little distracted.

“Hi,” Signal responds with a mischievous smile, “Do you happen to be missing a dragon? Cause I’ve got one here who’s hoping he can get a little help from a friend.”

Danny hears something clatter on Tucker’s end, then Tucker starts yelling for Sam. He’s not quite able to bite back his laughter, entire body shaking with it. The Signal keeps his composure better, but he does share a glance with Danny that has him biting his lip, trying to keep his smile from growing.

“Where is he?!” Tucker demands, and for a moment Danny feels ashamed of how much stress he’s putting his best friends through. And then he remembers them fighting nonstop while ignoring him and doesn’t feel bad at all.

“Gotham.”

“...Gotham,” Sam repeats. Her voice is flat in the way it always gets before she verbally (and sometimes physically) tears someone apart. Danny winces hard enough that it jostles the Signal, making him glance back at Danny.

“Yeah. Gotham. He said he was cursed?”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not my fault. It is Tucker’s fault, though.”

“I think I found the solution though! And also, it was an accident. You were the one who wanted to read the grimoire.”

He can tell they’re gearing up for another fight, so Danny lowers his face closer to the phone and lets loose a dark growl. It shuts them right up, and he briefly wonders about learning how to growl like that as a human, since it’s so effective.

Tucker clears his throat, and continues as if nothing happened. “Anyways. The cure. The thing that will make Danny stop being cursed.”

There’s another long pause.

“The cure…?” Signal prompts.

“Kisses.”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s kisses.”

“Like… true love’s kiss?”

Danny hopes it’s not true love’s kiss. If it is, he’s never going to be human again. Who would his true love even be? As much as he liked Valerie, that ships sailed long ago. And he loves Sam and Tucker, but not quite like that. 

“No. Thankfully,” Sam says. “Just kisses. What matters is the amount, not the person it’s from. So whoever you are, we’re gonna need you to be giving Danny as many kisses as possible until he’s human again. We’re also on our way to Gotham now. Johnny’s offered us a ride.”

On cue, an engine revs loudly. 

“We’ll be there soon!” Tucker shouts over the engine, and the call ends just a second later. 

Danny huffs, shaking his head lightly.

“Interesting friends you got there,” Signal comments idly.

Y.E.S. Danny taps out. L.O.V.E. T.H.E.M.

The Signal sits up and moves away from Danny, who has to stomp down the urge to curl around the hero tighter to keep him in place. He stands up, putting his phone away, and looks over Danny. His gaze feels like a physical weight, moving from his face, and the horns on his head, to the scales covering him, to his wings and tail.

His tails flicks back and forth nervously. Danny can’t get it to stop.

“Dragon,” someone new says, startling Danny. He spots the newcomer immediately, a lithe figure in all black perched on the ledge of the roof. Her voice is rough and he can’t see her face at all, fully covered as it is in her mask.

This must be Black Bat. He doesn’t know much about her; no one does, with how she’s managed to avoid being photographed and how rarely she is seen by anyone at all. He honestly wasn’t sure if she was real or not, but here she is.

“Hey,” Signal greets easily, “We need to kiss him better.” 

Black Bat tilts her head. “Kiss… dragon?”

“He’s cursed. And kisses will fix him. Not true love’s kiss, but just a lot of kisses.”

“True love’s kiss?” she repeats.

“Oh, shit. I guess you haven’t read any fairy tales?” Black Bat shakes her head, and Danny wonders how she’s managed to avoid all fairy tales for so long. They’re usually among the first stories children are exposed to. “Yeah, in a lot of those stories, a curse can only be broken from a kiss by someone by love.”

Black Bat nods slowly, and it’s clear she doesn’t really understand, but she does hop off the ledge and walk over to Danny. She pulls up her mask to reveal her mouth, then looks to the Signal for guidance.

“Like this,” Signal says, then leans over and presses a soft kiss to Danny’s cheek.

If he were human, Danny would be blushing madly. As it is, he has to force himself to stay still and not hide his face in his hands, claws and all, from how flustered he is.

Black Bat follows in suit, dropping a delicate kiss to the top of his head. 

Danny loses track of how many kisses he gets, all over his face, beyond flustered by the amount of affection two heroes are showering him in. It’s just to break the curse, but it’s still a lot of kisses! 

Signal kisses the tip of his nose, and there’s a flash of light. Danny feels himself change, growing smaller, his human softness returning to him. It’s barely a few seconds, and then Danny’s human again, sitting on the roof with the Signal and Black Bat standing over him.

They blink at each other for a long moment, then Black Bat smiles and pats the top of his head. 

Danny smiles. He knows his cheeks are red, can feel how hot they are himself, and ducks his head, too embarrassed to look at either of them.

“How are you feeling?” Signal asks, crouching down to be eye level with Danny.

He tries to answer, but all that comes out is a hoarse rasp. He winces and brings a hand up to his throat, then shrugs and gives the Signal a thumbs up.

He clears his throat. This time, he manages to whisper, “Thank you.”

Black Bat gives him a cheerful wave, then hops back onto the ledge and jumps off. Signal barely takes his eyes off Danny enough to give her a nod goodbye. He reaches out and brushes Danny’s hair off his forehead some before his fingers trail down the side of his face. 

“I’ll admit, you looked cool as a dragon,” Signal says, “But you’re much cuter like this.”

Danny gives in and hides his face in his hands. The Signal laughs, warm and bright, and kisses his forehead. 

“Come on, let’s make sure your friends can find you.”

“They’re going to be so annoying about this,” Danny mutters.

“It’s how friends show affection.”

“Seriously, though, thank you. I know being tackled by a dragon isn’t what anyone expects. Did I hurt you? Your ribs…”

The Signal shrugs. “Nah. I’m all good. Just a little bruised, but it’ll heal quickly enough. Though, you’re more than welcome to give me a kiss to help me feel better.”

Danny shoves him lightly for the teasing, but he does pull the Signal back for a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It’s only fair, after all.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was supposed to be written last week... cries. work killed me but ghostlights is bringing me back to life #with a bonus cass!! i love cass in case u couldnt tell #duke is gonna roll up at the cave for evening training. have people insist he ice his ribs after they see the bruising #and he'll say 'no its fine a dragon kissed it better' and not elaborate #everyone has questions but damian is the only one upset that HE wasnt called to help the dragon when they know he's good w goliath #this doesnt change even after duke tells them the dragon was a cursed boy who is now human again #damian is lowkey wondering if he can find tucker to also be turned into a dragon. just for fun. #it'll give duke an excuse to see danny again so obv hes gonna say yes. #meet cute? no. meet DRAGON

[wynnyfryd]

Since you asked so nicely…and I’m nothing if not a giver… Steve very seriously saying to Eddie “That’s rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me less than two hours ago” in whatever scenario your Big Brain can come up with (ily ur amazing btw)

“Can’t believe you let a twelve year old drive off with your car,” Eddie snorts as he tosses another bottle cap into the hole in the floor of the boathouse.

“Can you stop that?” Steve clips. He doesn’t understand why Eddie’s bothering to do it, anyway. It’s too fucking dark to see the caps once they hit the water, but the steady plunk plunk plunk is starting to drive him a little nuts. Eddie is starting to drive him a little nuts.

You have to stay with him, Steve.

No one else is strong enough to protect him if someone comes looking for him, Steve.

Goddamn horseshit, is what it is.

Without Eddie’s little game of toss, the boathouse is… really creepy, actually. All creaking wood and nocturnal animal noises and Eddie’s shaky, rattling breaths.

“She’s fourteen,” Steve says to fill the silence he regrets asking for.

“Huh?”

“Max. She’s fourteen, not twelve.”

Eddie scoffs, lets his head drop again, hiding behind a curtain of hair. He brings a strand up to his mouth, mumbles, “Like that makes it any better.”

Okay, you know what? Steve doesn’t need this. He just does not need this. Not from the fully grown drug-dealing goth weirdo he’s being forced to babysit.

Seriously, who is Eddie Munson to go questioning his judgement when he’s trying to do the guy a fucking favor?

“That’s rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me less than two hours ago,” he bites, rubbing at the spot on his neck where the jagged glass pressed in.

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I didn’t try to fuckin’- I wouldn’t… w-wouldn’t-”

Oh, no. Goddammit.

Eddie’s eyes go all wide and wet, his lip quivering around the word ‘kill,’ and Steve can just hear his mother tutting about his lack of decorum. The boy just witnessed a murder, Steven.

“Shit, man, Eddie, I’m-”

Eddie makes this sound — this pathetic thing, stuttering and damp, like mildew in his lungs, and his cheeks burn red as a tear tips over his lashes. Shit.

Shit.

“Hey,” Steve tries, reaching out to clap a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie rears back, voice cracking as he snaps, “Don’t touch me!”

Eyes hot. Breath wet and heaving.

Steve’s gonna get decked for this.

“I’m- just… Just come here, man,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Eddie, pulling him in, and Eddie folds like crumpled paper, collapses into Steve’s side and sobs, shaking them both so violently that Steve scoots them back a little from the edge of the hole in the floor just to be safe. He wraps Eddie up with both arms, and Eddie slumps down into his lap, and they’re-

Jesus. They’re cuddling. Steve Harrington is cuddling with Eddie Munson. What the fuck. What the fuck?

“You’re okay,” Steve murmurs, rocking them gently and brushing damp curls out of Eddie’s eyes, because, like. Might as well, right? This is already so weird.

#steddie #steddie drabble #always the goddamn babysitter #and then they kiss or something idk #love youuuuuuuu #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #my writing #prompt fill

[the-broken-pen]

The hero was getting blood all over the villains nice jacket.

“I’m sorry about the blood—“ they murmured, and the villain hushed them.

“We’re almost there. Just—just stay still, okay?”

If the hero didn’t know better, they’d say the villain almost sounded afraid.

“It’s okay. M’fine.”

The villain breathed a harsh laugh, cradling the hero to their chest as they walked.

“Yes, you certainly look fine bleeding everywhere.”

There was that tone again. The hero frowned. The villain had never used that tone, especially not with them, and they had no idea what it was—

They barged into the villains apartment, as the hero realized the villain was concerned.

Oh.

The villain set them down on a couch, gently, but the hero still flinched. The villain apologized, soft and gentle, and ran their hand over the wound, assessing the damage.

The villains face went carefully blank.

The hero’s head spun, just a little, and they closed their eyes to fight it off. A moment later, they opened them to find the villain wrapping their side.

Their eyebrows crinkled.

“You—when did you get those?” Their voice cracked.

The villain looked up at them.

“Just a minute ago. You passed out,” they said calmly.

Their fingers continued deftly wrapping the bandage on the hero’s side.

“Wait. Why are you,” the hero grit their teeth as the villain brushed against the wound. “Why are you helping me.”

The villain laughed.

“For someone so observant, you miss a lot of things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The villain shook their head.

“I knew you were a bit obtuse, but darling, really. Work with me.”

They tied off the bandages, helping the hero sit up against the arm of the couch. The villain held their gaze, cool and collected and concerned, all at once.

“Your powers stem from emotions, yes?”

The hero nodded, once.

“So positive emotions make you stronger. They can heal you, right?”

The hero had tried to keep that bit of information under wraps. Not only could they heal themselves if they were happy, they could heal anyone. They didn’t want to end up some tool to be used in some military stronghold. Still, they healed civilians when no one was looking.

If they were mad, though? They could destroy anything, tear concrete in half, send metal into dust.

The hero cleared their throat. “Yes. Positive emotions can heal me. Not feeling super happy right now, so I’ll get back to you on that—“

The villain sat back on their heels.

“Do you trust me?”

The hero blinked at them. They were ready to give them some bullshit answer about how they could never trust the villain and never would; but that wasn’t true. The villain had saved them, more times than they could count.

And between the agency and the villain? Well, the hero knew who they would choose.

“Yes,” they said hesitantly, and the villain kissed them.

Warmth flooded them, and they reached for the villain, tugging them closer, and the villain smiled against their mouth.

The wound on their side began to close, and the villain felt it. They smiled, pleased with themself, like a cat.

“I give you positive emotions, huh,” they said, still grinning.

“For someone so observant, you can be so obtuse—“ the villain kissed them, again, to get them to shut up. This time, the hero smiled.

The wound closed further.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” the hero murmured.”

“I tolerate you. I just happen to hate everyone else.”

The hero laughed, side twinging with pain.

The villain checked the half closed wound, then turned back to the hero.

“Kiss it better?”

The villain rolled their eyes.

This time, when the villain kissed them, the hero didn’t let them stop.

#writing #writing community #creative writing #snippet #angst #heroes and villains #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #hero whumpee #healer #healing power #kisses #hurt/aftermath #hurt/comfort

[killerpancakeburger]

Angtsy Ghoap x Reader with a happy ending

Insecure!Reader who fell for Soap first, and fast. They don't think they have a chance with him, but pining is harmless, right?

Then they start crushing on Ghost. Have to go full denial about it because they feel bad liking two people at the same time.

Soap and Ghost are already together, but Ghost notices that Soap's has a soft spot for the Reader. So he starts paying attention to them more and ends up interested too.

Cue Ghost having a masterplan to add the Reader to their relationship (cause he's the one with the braincells lmao). He makes Soap leaves his sketchbook in the rec room, knowing Reader is the kind of person who will bring it back to him thinking he forgot it.

Except that when Reader enters Soap's bedroom, they stumble upon Soap draped over Ghost because he was being needy. Reader freezes before fleeing the room with an hasty apology, Johnny's sketchbook dropped on the floor. Obviously those two are a couple and you were so stupid to crush over Soap in the first place.

Ghost and Soap track you down to explain, but not before Ghost called Soap a bloody idiot. It is Ghost's fault too for keeping Soap out of the loop tbh.

#when it's requited but there's a misunderstanding - that gets solved right away - with a confession and/or a kiss? #sign me tf up #mine #ghoap x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #fic prompt #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #i started reading ghoap x reader smut and my brain was like. how can i make this HEARTBREAKING??

[ikarakie]

part 1

eddie wakes up.

he doesn't expect to. not on earth, anyways. but he does, in a hospital bed, to dustin's scolding and the girls' smiles. he's told they won, vecna's dead. the government are working on clearing his name as they speak as a fucked up 'thank you', and everything is fucking okay.

he asks after red and the sinclairs. apparently, they had a run-in with asshole of the century jason carver, but sinclair had held his own with a mean right hook that harrington had taught him once. max had fought vecna off with the help of supergirl, who'd come into her mind at the last second via shenanigans that eddie didn't understand. though he was assured he'd have the story told to him by mike himself, since he, supergirl, and the byers' were on their way in from california.

everyone's crowded around his bed, minus one very pretty head of hair, firing off their accounts. robin's partway through how the vines had attacked them when it happens.

"and then they grabbed me and slammed me against the wall! so steve-" and she hesitates. widens her eyes and a looks a bit nauseous all of a sudden. eddie feels his stomach sink.

"hey, speaking of harrington, where is he?" he asks, hoping to fucking god it's not what he thinks. though the way the room falls silent, the way dustin's suddenly holding his hand a lot tighter, makes his eyes water.

"he got you out." henderson whispers, sounding so very broken. "he- he carried you back to the gate and sent you through, but it- it was closing." he's biting his lip so hard he draws blood.

"he... he's still there?" eddie asks, breathless, horrified. the image of steve harrington hauling his ass out of that backwards hell dimension only to get stuck there himself makes his head spin. robin breaks down next to him, bringing her legs to her chest on her chair. nancy puts an arm around her shoulder.

"he made sure we all got through first." she says, deceptively even. eddie can see how tense her shoulders are, and he gets it. because, for fucks sakes, of course he sent the girls and henderson through first. "i think... i think he didn't want to risk coming through when it was so nearly closed. so he stayed."

eddie takes a second. looks around the room, at everyone's sullen faces. wonders why steve thought his was the life to save instead of his own, when all these people loved him so fucking dearly. eddie liked robin, and he liked max, and nancy, and the little sinclair, but they were more steve's people than his. and yet the guy, for whatever fucking reason, thought eddie, who was barely clinging on to begin with, was the one who deserved to live?

if you told him three months ago that he'd be sat in a hospital bed, having been dragged back from the edge of death by steve harrington, who'd fucking sacrificed himself to do so, he would've laughed. even more, if you told him that, in that position, eddie's heart ached with affection for the guy, he would've punched you. probably.

not that his puppy crush on steve was a recent development, but this whole... seeing him in action thing had just exacerbated it. especially with all those lingering looks they'd shared. semi-flirty words and little signals that eddie forced himself not to read into. but now he wished he had. wished he'd said what he'd meant to, that last time they saw each other.

"it's okay, though." dustin said, breaking the silence. "because when el comes back, she'll just open a gate, and we can go and get him." he sounds so sure, that for a moment, eddie thinks he's right, but the way nancy sighs indicates this is an issue.

"we'd like to do that." she says, "but... we don't know if vecna dying means... the upside down did, too." god, she was right. what if it'd all collapsed in on itself? robin sobs harder, shaking her head, and eddie puts a hand on one of her knees. wishes, not for the first time, that steve was here, to hold her. instead of- of- wherever he was.

the next week and half passes in a blur. eddie gets discharged, despite everyone's protests, and just told he needs to rest while he heals. they all set up camp in steve's house, which feels fucking weird, but dustin reasons that they need to all be together to form a plan, to watch eddie, and robin had a key anyways, and the place was massive, and it's not like steve ever minded. (the 'when he was alive' goes unspoken. they don't want to talk like that, not yet.)

it's one more week before mike and his little crew get back. apparently, they got caught in some government bullshit that'd held them up, but they return with joyce byers and a back-from-the-dead chief hopper, so that's cool. there's hugs and reunions and stories are exchanged. when the bit about steve getting stuck in the upside down comes up, eddie sees how will byers' face falls. remembers dustin saying he'd been trapped there once, too, and supposes it's sympathy.

chief hopper looks ready to tear the whole place apart. he'd asked after steve the second everyone had gathered, strangely terrifying for a man who was skin and bones. he'd only settled and listened to the story after being assured steve wasn't dead. (not that they... actually knew that, but no one wanted to say it out loud again).

supergirl, eleven, wasted no fucking time. she grabbed a radio and a piece of fabric and apparently began 'searching for steve in the void'. though eddie didn't quite understand, he held his breath alongside everyone else. only relaxing when she smiled, and said, albeit a little wobbly: "he is alive. he is okay."

robin's sobs would probably be with him till the day he died. she'd collapsed into joyce byers' arms, mumbling incoherently. dustin wasn't any better, crying into will's shoulder.

after some safety briefings, and a begruding blessing from hopper, supergirl opened a gate in steve's living room and fucked off through it. eddie was astounded at the ease with which she entered the dimension. will explained that, because vecna was dead, it didn't 'feel as bad anymore'. though he still held mike's hand tightly and sat as far away from it as possible.

and so the waiting game began. they tried to make small talk, tried to keep the mood light, but the whole thing weighed heavy on them. watching the gate to hell that they'd just sent a little girl through, wishing every second she'd come back in one piece.

it was maybe fourty five minutes later when max perked up. they all turned to the gate at her movement, and sure enough, there they were.

he was pale, and tired looking, covered in some sort of goop or slime or something. holding eleven's hand the whole time- though for who's benefit, eddie wasn't sure. he stumbled a bit as he stepped through the gate and still, still, turned to help el through. though he was a bit slimmer, and clearly weary, it was him, it was steve, and he was alive.

robin was on him in seconds. screaming, clinging to him and asking him 'how dare you? how fucking dare you? never do that to me again, you piece of shit! i love you so much, you can't do that!' he buried his face in her shoulder and swayed slightly as he held her. murmuring things eddie couldn't hear. dustin wasn't far behind, squeezing between them and similarly blubbering. steve was hugging them both and gazing at them- at everyone who was crying- with such wonder. like he couldn't believe he'd been missed that much.

one by one, everyone had their fill. max whacked him on the arm and then hugged him so tightly it looked like it hurt. nancy brushed his hair back out of his eyes and called him an idiot. joyce byers gently wiped his face of dirt and grime before kissing his cheek. chief hopper held him like a father, strong and tight.

eddie sat back, just watched. wondered how someone could be so loved and not feel worth it at all.

then steve's eyes settled on him. they brightened, almost sparkled. "eddie!" he called. his voice was rough from disuse, but still sounding so relieved and happy it made eddie falter. he stepped forwards, feeling steve's dazzling smile pull the corners of his own mouth upwards. "you're okay!"

then he had an armful of steve harrington, and it all came flooding out. he felt a bit foolish, but only until he realised steve was crying too. "you... asshole." he muttered, holding him as tightly as his strength would allow.

"i told you not to be fucking hero." steve huffed, though it lost any of it's power with how his voice wobbled. "i thought you died, i thought-"

"you're one to fucking talk!" eddie cried, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. "i woke up and you- they told me you dragged my ass outta there and then stayed behind! no one knew what had happened to you, it's been weeks, steve! i couldn't- why would you do that? why would you not just leave me-"

"i couldn't leave you!" god, he sounded so offended at the very idea. eddie felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. "i couldn't- i wouldn't do that-"

"i know you wouldn't." eddie lamented, because fuck, he did. he knew deep down even if he had died there, outside his trailer to those bats, steve still would've brought him home. "doesn't make it any less stupid. just makes you- makes you so-"

it hit him how close they were. probably an inch, maybe less, between their faces.

"makes me so what?" steve asked, a little breathless. eddie gazed at him, deciding that: fuck it. he'd be too close to death to not... see if whatever he thought they had was real. he sent a mental prayer to a god he didn't really believe in anymore: please, let him not have read this wrong.

he looked to steve's lips. pointedly. watched how his cheeks flushed and a shy smile crept onto them. how his eyes flickered down to eddie's as well. there was a silent, shared understanding: if we were alone right now, i'd like to have kissed you.

"so... stupidly perfect, steve harrington." eddie muttered, undeniably affectionate, pulling him in for another embrace. tucked his face into his neck so he could whisper. "you can't save someone's life and then die before they can tell you thank you." steve melted under his touch, pressing a kiss to where his shoulder met his neck under the safety of eddie's hair. it made him warm, and giddy, and so very fucking thankful.

"you can tell me now." he whispered back. eddie couldn't help but smile again. he'd tell him anything if he asked like that.

"thank you, steve." he muttered, squeezing him slightly. hoping his touch communicated what he needed it to: please, please, please don't leave me again.

"anytime, eddie." steve whispered back, hands balling into the fabric of the shirt eddie wore. i won't, as long as you don't either.

#part 3 where they kiss??? #lol #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #imagine #steddie #stranger things prompt #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #steve and the party #steddie angst #if u catch the low-key the smiths reference lets be friends

[wormdebut]

JANUARY MICROFIC (2) — SAFE

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: hole | WORD COUNT: 404 | Rated: T | CW: Sad Boy Steve, Hurt/Comfort

——

It’s like a fucking hole in his chest, a weight that he can’t ever carry.

He’ll never be enough. He’ll never be smart enough for college, worthy enough for a scholarship, romantic enough for Nancy, good enough for his dad.

‘You’re going nowhere, Steven. You’ll amount to nothing.’

It was playing on a loop in his head.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

Sure, he helped save the damn world a few times, but you can’t put that on a college transcript.

Steve's eyes flick to the door. Someone’s knocking—he should probably get that. He should, but he won’t. Robin is out of town and Dustin can come back later.

He pulls the blanket over his head, turns into the couch—needs to turn off the noise.

The knocking stops, but to Steve’s dismay he hears the lock on the door clinking open.

He knew giving Dustin a key was a stupid fucking idea.

“Dustin. Go. Away.” Steve huffs from his blanket cocoon.

“Not Dustin.”

Eddie.

Steve flops over to face him, the top of his head barely popping out from under his blanket nest. “What are you doing here, Munson?”

Steve watches as Eddie clutches at his jacket, directly over his heart. “Reverting back to last names, Harrington? You wound me.”

If Steve cracks a smile, that’s between him and the blanket he’s hiding under. He rolls his eyes before pulling the damn thing away from his face.

“What are you even doing here, Eddie?”

He watches as Eddie’s gaze flicks to his shoes and then back up to meet Steve’s. “Dustin said your parents came back yesterday—I checked for another car before I stopped by and only saw the bimmer. I just—“ Eddie’s eyes flick up to the ceiling, as he runs a hand through his hair, “—thought you could use a friend.”

Well that’s—that’s not what Steve was expecting. He can’t hide the soft smile that creeps across his face this time.

“Sure.”

They end up watching…something. Steve’s not entirely sure what it is. He’s too busy listening to Eddie go on and on about dungeons and dragons.

His ramblings only calm when Steve plops his head down on Eddie’s shoulder. He pauses, before wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer.

“I’m sorry things are heavy right now.” Eddie says.

Steve hums. The hole in his chest shrinks just a little.

“It’s alright. I think things might be looking up.”

——

#I still can’t fathom a G rating but #here’s a more wholesome…holesome? prompt fill #steddie #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjanuary #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #maybe they kiss about it #worm brain

[smellingofpoetry]

Midnight talks

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Something changes in their dynamics.

Prompt: "Pressing a kiss onto the other's hair." by @creativepromptsforwriting

Warnings: fluff

Words count: 308

A/N: Hi! Here I am, as promised. Not so long ago, I stumbled across a list of prompts, and this one was the one that caught my eye. I couldn't let it sit there, so here we are with this drabble. I hope you'll enjoy it. I forgot to mention that if everything goes according to the plans, I'll post every two weeks, exactly like I'm doing lately. 🖤 Let me know what you guys think. All errors are mine, of course.

It happened one evening, out of the blue. 

They had just ended a hunt, not a particularly difficult one. They were tired, but not that tired. So, it seemed the right way to end the day while sitting in the library with a drink. 

They all shared some stories, few smiles, and heartfelt laughs until it was time for bed. Sam was the first to say his goodnight, needing his beauty sleep before the morning run. 

Y/N and Dean, instead, stayed back a bit longer, simply enjoying each other company, which was something relatively new for them. 

It was just around two when they forced themselves to say goodnight before falling asleep, right there and then. 

Y/N was still leaning against her chair, watching him get up, ready to wave at him like she had done a hundred times before. 

Dean let his fingers linger a bit more on the rim of his glass, unsure, before closing the distance with two long strides. He leaned forward then, pressing a kiss on Y/N’s air. She stiffened at the unexpected gesture, feeling her breathing stop for a second. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered while moving towards the corridor to his room.

Y/N stayed still on her chair, her hand anchored around her glass and her eyes glued to the door he had just walked over. 

What had just happened? Dean wasn’t so affectionate with her, which she understood since they didn’t have much of a relationship. They were just roommates, basically, and she was okay with that. At least she knew he tolerated her. 

This, though? 

It was new, not that she minded. She didn’t mind at all. The sensation of his lips on her hair was nice; really nice. She smiled to herself until she realized.

Crap – she didn’t even answer back.

“'Night!” she hurried, but he was already gone. 

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #prompt #intimate moment prompt #kiss #forehead kisses #pressing a kiss onto the other's hair #midnight talks

[promptful]

Oddly obscure Friends-to-Lovers prompts that I'll probably add to.

I'm uh, sorry? Requests are open, and please do not add to this list. I'm sure I have more somewhere in my brain, lol.

WARNINGS: Mention of drowning, mention of death, possible cursing. Alcohol.

SCENARIOS

1) We’re having a movie night, just like we’ve always done. Your thigh is touching mine, and my thoughts won’t stop wandering.

2) We both just got off work, and I’m walking you home just like any other night, you trip on an unfortunate pebble. Just before you hit the ground, I caught you with one arm around your waist.

3) Throughout our childhood, it was always you getting sick, never me. You nearly passed out next to me with fevers higher than imaginable, but I was fine. Now, I’m bedridden and you won’t stop freaking out.

4) This is your favorite song, and apparently there’s an option to sing a duet. Oh… you want me to sing? It’s a love song? We’ll be right next to each other? Oh. Okay. 

5) You’re drunk, bent over a bar with a grin splayed on your lips. You’re clinging to me, and won’t let me fish your keys out of your pocket/bag, guess we’re taking my car.

6) I step outside to find a thank you note for helping you/picking you up/getting groceries for you, stuck to a plate of baked pie/cookies/cake. Oh my god, how can I make you bake more? …Why are your cheeks red? 

7) My roommate/ex/family kicked me out into the rain. I have nobody else to call but you.  

8) Your roommate/ex/family kicked you out, and it’s pouring outside. In my pajamas/loungewear, yet I ran to my car to pick you up. 

9) This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, I tell you, but I don't have the heart to remove your fingers from my wrist. 

10) You’ve always been a stoic nightmare who never smiles, laughs, or does anything remotely animated. But one night, you actually laughed and I think I felt my heart skip a beat.

11) There’s one bed, and I know we’ve shared beds for years, but your arm is around my hips, my back is against your chest, and your breath keeps brushing my neck.

12) I’m trying to hold you, and I can feel every little thing about you. Why did I agree to sleeping here with you again? 

13) Ohmygod, I know I just said I love you, and I truly did mean it, but then your eyes flicker with something I’ve never seen, and maybe I don’t feel so bad anymore?

14) We’re arguing because of something stupid, and every single time I think it’s finally over, you scream, “But why do you care?!” And I respond with the only thing I can think of, “Because I love you!” @screnwriter lmao. 

15) Saying I love you after I just nearly drowned shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I can’t seem to stop staring at your lips. Whoops?

16) We’ve been friends since childhood, and I’ve accepted that we’re just not meant to be. I’ve moved on and encouraged you to follow your dreams. I didn’t know that your dream was me. 

17) You and I’ve been friends since we were kids, and suddenly when I’m about to leave for vacation/college/moving, you let out that you can’t let me go without saying I love you.

18) All week, you’ve been on my mind, and I can’t make you go away. Finally, after suffering in silence for so long at the thought of your lips, your laugh, and your smile, I give in and ask you to come to my apartment.

19) What the hell are we doing in this closet? Why did you drag me in here? Why are you so close? Why do I want you to be closer? 

20) “This is bad,” I whisper, with my hands wrapped around your hips, because I know that if you give in, I’m wrapped around your finger. “Maybe,” you whisper, leaning closer, “maybe this is a good kind of bad, hm?” and pull me into a kiss. 

21) You need help tying the back of your dress/fixing your cufflinks, and my fingers keep scraping against your skin. How are you so warm? And how are you acting like I’m not right behind/in front of you? 

22) We’re ice skating, just like we used to when we were kids, but then you slip. I break your fall by offering myself up for tribute, and suddenly, we’re a whole lot closer.

23) You offer to make me tea when I’m sick, and for some reason, I have the urge to kiss you. Deliriously, I ask if I can. We came to an agreement that I can kiss you after I stop sneezing. 

24) I know you love rollercoasters, but I get so sick while riding them, and I’m not sure if I can stomach another one–oh, you’re holding my hand?

25) Every Sunday morning before work/church/school/a hobby, you come in for coffee. We chat a little bit each time, and I feel like we’re some sort of friends now. Today, I finally gained the courage to write my number on your cup. 

26) Family vacations are a whole lot more awkward when you and I can’t stop staring at each other, and you know that they’re going to catch on if we don’t stop, right? But we don’t, and instead, it just gets worse. 

27) You’re in a swimsuit. I don't know what to do but stand here and look awkward, because that’s more skin than I thought I’d ever see on you.

28) We’re roommates, and I walk in on you changing. You yelp. I yelp. I never forget what I saw, I’m sure you never forget what I walked in on. I think it’s time we have a chat about this. 

29) Did you know that if you love someone enough, your heart can palpitate? I didn’t, well, not until you walked into the room.

30) It’s your birthday and everyone forgot. Everyone except me. We sit down at a nearby park/in your apartment/on the roof/in a tree, and I finally give you my present.

31) You just got rejected from a date/prom night, and I promise you, your crush is missing out on you. I don’t know how to convince you other than sit here, hold you, and pretend that I don’t wish you’d see what’s in front of you.

32) I never wanted to ruin what we had, but you’re making it so hard not to utter those three words.  

33) I know you’re angry that I got hurt, but you’re patching up a cut on my face/chest, and you’re really close.

34) I invited you over after a rough night, the stench of cheap beer on both of our breaths. For some reason I can’t get my mind off of the way you laugh, or how you threw everything aside to come comfort me.

35) I’m trying to work up the courage to tell you how I feel, but everyone and everything seems to be against us doing this. Your friends, my friends, a random phone call from a telemarketer that I nearly cussed out. Okay, look, I love you.

36) Work has me exhausted, and I don’t want to think anymore, and I just can’t hold back from mumbling I love you into your hair. Uh, sorry.

37) We always snuggle, and this shouldn’t be any different, but I’m trying not to press my lips to yours because they’re right there and I don’t want to pass up another chance, but you take initiative and do it yourself. Oh. 

38) Your SO doesn’t treat you right, and you know it, and I know it, and everyone else knows it. But I don’t know how to convince you without giving myself away. And of course when I try, it fails. Crap. 

#prompts #otp prompts #prompt list #story prompt #creative writing #writing prompts #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #fanfiction prompts #rp starters #writeblr #kissing prompts #friends to lovers prompts #writing prompt #writing ideas #story ideas #fic prompt #short prompt #oc prompt #prompt #p.

[askgametime]

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

#ask games #ask game #prompt ask game #fic writer ask game #fic writer ask games #mine #ship ask game #kisses

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

#ghostlights #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #prompt fill #my writing #i thought up a whole backstory to the duke/dash kiss (accidental. embarrassing for both parties) but it didnt fit w the rest of the fic so #its not included. i can include it in a rb if u want tho!! #my sleepy boys..... they go thru so much but at the end of the day they always feel at home with each other #childhood friends duke/danny is so important to me #also couldnt think of a coded phrase sorry. now we just have dash walking up to duke like HEY. HELP DANNY. and duke went with it #thanks for the prompt!!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Ahhhh I love those kiss prompts!!

What about 29 for Poe except the force drawing them together is literally the force wielded by someone tired of watching two people dance around each other?

Send me a kiss prompt!

This idea is so fricking CUTE!

Prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force

"Would you knock it off?" You groaned as you felt Poe pressed against your side again.

"You knock it off!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Well, neither am I!" Poe argued. You scowled, scooching away from him on the bench for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. It just kept happening. Every few moments, you felt this nudge, and then found yourself closer to Poe than you had been just moments ago.

You began to feel it again, and you grasped the edge of the canteena table, trying to keep yourself in one spot, grimacing as you were pushed along the bench.

"No—No nononono—Damnit," You hissed as you were pressed into Poe's side.

"Cut it out!"

"I'm not doing anything!" You swore, looking at him. Your stomach flipped at his clenched jaw, gaze sweeping from his lips, up to his eyes. Poe's chest heaved with tight breaths, his gaze lowering to your eyes in turn.

What was he...

Your stomach flipped as you saw Poe lean closer, and felt a press against the back of your head.

"I'm not doing this," Poe shook his head.

"No, I'm not either."

"Then stop."

"I can't!"

"Neither can I—!"

The two of you went quiet as your lips met. Your eyes widened slightly at the feeling of his lips slipping against yours, his tongue swiping across your lips. Your eyes closed after a moment, the force dropping away from your head, replaced by Poe's hand. You sighed softly, pressing into his side—on purpose, this time.

--

"Took them long enough," Finn muttered, watching Rey lower her hand, "Thanks."

"I don't mind," She shrugged, smiling. "I'm happy to practice."

#Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #Poe Dameron/Reader #Poe Dameron/You #Poe Dameron fic #Poe Dameron imagine #Kiss prompts #asks #replies

[lucabyte]

i am looking at nohats au 👀 please share more

So! NoHats! I'm going to grab you and use this to ramble. A Lot.

The NoHats AU is @samhainian's it's just that I'm the strange little freak who takes the words said unto me and executes on them. But I can still do a little explainer on what our overall thoughts and vibes are. (And, that we are in fact propping up a little box with some cheese under it here. 🪤 Please (PLEASE) feel free to pick up what we're putting down.)

We're far from the only ones exploring a "what if siffrin fucking died" AU, though the main difference with NoHats is the placement of the death in the timeline. Instead of being 'Mal Du Pays Wins' or 'Act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong', the death is… Just after the (literal) falling action.

(This placement is because Sam is a comic book fan who thus has become used to characters being ripped away at the cruelest times by shitty writers. THANK FUCKING GOD adrienne is not that and isat is delightful yippieee, but, back on topic.)

Giving the party the full understanding of What Happened that you get by putting the death after black hole siffrin, but before the A6 encounter leaves an interesting gap to be filled. See, making Siffrin's death very much not Loop's fault means that… this once again reads (when not read as simply a tragedy...) as the universe doing what it sees fit to fulfull Loop's wish… Thus making Siffrin's death Loop's fault again, but only in their eyes. And only in a way they could express if they were honest about who they were…

And this is where having had excuse to waffle about my general Postcanon Loop thoughts the other day comes in handy, because Sam and I have that as our canon-compliant reading to begin with, NoHats plays off of a lot of the same readings of Loop's character. Namely: Uh Oh Somebody's Lying By Fucking Omission Again. (BECAUSE TO BE FAIR THIS TIME… HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU HANDLE THAT?)

Now, neither Sam nor I are fanfic writers, so this has been a little bit trapped in our heads and DMs (and my unfinished art but,)

But our thoughts on how NoHats like… Goes.

Siffrin's death is peaceful, but that does not mean the aftermath of it is. I can't imagine the party takes it well, especially after understanding the circumstances of the Loops. (And, of note, in A5 where nobody had the discussion on what to do with each other's bodies should something happen…) But I'd imagine it traumabonds them somewhat (understatement of the century) and now knowing how the rest of the party feels, they resolve to travel together for the forseeable future.

The party track down Loop to deliver the terrible news, since they were clearly Siffrin's friend too, and invite Loop along to travel at least long enough to (let them grieve) get the burial over with. Loop, here, can be helpful in knowing what Siffrin would've wanted where the party would be at a loss. Loop, I think, takes a bit of a lead on the funerary aspects of it all, because, um. (Performing rites on your own body, huh?)

Then, as things are after a death, life just… Kind of has to continue on as normal. The party travel, pick up Nille, and get to know Loop as this mysterious new person. Maybe in this situation they might stay in Bambouche for a while to give Bonnie more stability since. They are probably taking it the worst. It would've come out of absolutely nowhere for everyone in the party obviously but god, for a kid? For A Kid?

It should be stated NoHats is not intended to be grimdark, just y'know. An exploration of grief. This is also why it's got a bit of a lopsided focus on Bonnie vs the rest of the party because hhrrhghghhghghhhghhghhh <- incoherent

Now, a crossroads.

How does the party discover Loop to be Siffrin? How long does it take. How much have the party embraced them as part of the family (especially with something as intense to bond over as this)?

There's the Odile option. Have her put it together and have to bring it up somehow. This could also be done by Isabeau, perhaps. He's smart. (which. God. If anything's the real Isabeau Torment Nexus it's this)

Then there's the other option batted around by Sam and I. The: The Universe Dislikes Duplicates option.

The items in the house that fzzt away when inspected. The Universe doesn't like there to be two of something, at least not when they're acknowledged. But one of something is just fine…?

Which is to say. I'm not a personal proponent of 'Loop getting their body back'. EXCEPT …… except this one time.

There's only one Siffrin now, so they don't need to be obfuscated to exist.

Consider, if you will. Loop swallowing their guilt for long enough to be comfortable. Falling back into old habits. Without another Siffrin around to compete for the niche of, they actually begin to act like Siffrin again. Not intentionally, it's just… The party is as welcoming as they've always been. And the party swears they keep catching glimpses of a face under all the light.

Then, one day, while still not fully human again, the resemblence becomes undeniable. Loop having not even noticed until everyone looks at them like they've seen a ghost.

Has it been months? How long have they kept up this lie? Is it even a lie, to them? They're Loop. But they were, once, Siffrin.

Even after explaining it, does that make it better or worse?

Bonnie cuts through the betrayed, struck-nerve reactions with a sobering "I missed you."

… Anyway !

Yeah so that's the vibe for NoHats. As for LoopLoops? That's more nebulous. I think it can go anywhere really in the NoHats timeline. I err personally toward the "Loop continuously replays the last 10 minutes before Siffrin's death almost immediately after they find out and have to parkour their ass up the House in the most distressing situation possible to try and get them to hold on, just please hold on." (Remember! Siffrin can remember the contents of Loop's loop backs in the A6 fight!)

But there is the possibility that this happens months, or worse years down the road. One last Loop back. Throw it all away for the chance to just get that one thing you didn't know you even wanted but now know you NEED.

Misc:

Okay miscellaneous time.

This is where I admit that I have a bunch of unfinished NoHats art that I haven't gotten around to yet because I feel like a right tool being so obviously Loop-Centric with my fancontent (I AM . . I REALISE I AM NOT DOING MUCH TO BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS.) So like if people want to see that please say because euaghghghhfh <- the nervous.

this is like the most fucked up place to do isaloop fr. anyway.

one of Sam's mid-game observations that I'm just going to share for no particular reason is that Bonnie's hair shares a bunch of shapes with Siffrin's. The flick up at the top, the 3 pronged shape of the fringe… just something to think about.

Without 2 Siffrins around to compare each other to it'd likely be a lot harder to notice Loop's similarities. Doesn't mean that those similarities don't sting more in this context though.

If you do NoHats without LoopLoops. The concept of this all fading into memory years down the line while they just have slightly-glowy but otherwise regular Siffrin hanging out is fucked up to think about. Just like real grief. Augh

6. a peek into the original dms as a treat from us

#LONG POST....! #be free our ideas. go forth into the wild. and by that i mean neither of us are fic writers so please HUNT US FOR SPORT #isat spoilers #looploops au #nohats au #isat au #isat loop #isat act 6 spoilers #not giving it more tags than that since feels rude to tag the rest of the party lol #lucabytetalks #but yes! to be extra clear: nohats is a 'please play in the space' invitation. because neither of us are big fanwork people! um! #it feels a little bit neglectful of us to not make more stuff for this AU ourselves but... we aren't practiced at that kind of thing. so. #open invitation! we know we won't make anything MASSIVE with this so.. don't hold your breath. and feel free to take the reigns. #we aren't like. the arbiters of 'sif fuckin dies' aus in general obviously but if you want to play with our specific ideas please do! #think of this post like prompts if you want to. go nuts #and @ a certain someone who said in the tags theyd maybe write something inspired. kisses you so sweetly. thank u for even considering it #also hi kaun i was thinking about your little snippet when typing 'act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong' 👋

[coffeeghoulie]

okay okay listen...#48 w/dewther. yes? but. insert aeon in place of aether. insert dew's habit and....what happens?

Crow, your brain is huge <3. Hope you enjoy!

#48: out of habit

from this prompt list

Something's wrong.

Dew can feel it growing in the pit of his chest, straining at his ribs with each heartbeat. He hasn't been this nervous ahead of a Ritual in years, long before he transitioned to fire.

Miserere Mei, Deus is playing over the speakers, just barely managing to drown out the growing sound of the crowd, and if Dew were quintessence, he'd be able to taste the excitement. The gossamer sheet between them and the audience ripples softly in the breeze, and something's wrong.

Dew stares down at his hands, growling at them as if that alone would make his spindly fingers stop trembling. It's the first show of this cycle. He should be excited, just like the humans who came to see them spread the Unholy Father's message.

He cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's making him feel like the world's about to end until he looks up from his hands. Aeon's taking his Fantomen from a tech, and Dew is reminded, painfully, that his mate will not be standing across the stage from him when that curtain falls.

Dew stumbles back, grabbing at a crate like he thinks he might go off balance. His other hand covers the crook of his neck, over the many intricate layers of his uniform, where Aether's mark sits, long scarred over. He knows what he's missing, what's wrong, what is making him feel like he's dying.

The first Ritual he and Aether shared together, Aether's very first, Dew had watched the big ghoul shake with nerves, still shy and skittish, only a few months' summoned. He had slipped over towards him, pressed a cool hand to his chest.

Aether had flinched, looking up, violet eyes all Dew could see behind the silver masks. "You'll do fine," Dew had whispered, "I trust Omega and Delta's judgment. You'll do just fine."

He hadn't responded, still trembling under Dew's touch. Dew furrowed his brow, humming softly. Aether swayed towards the noise, entranced.

"Here," Dew said, grabbing the chin of his mask and pulling it up, revealing the pale skin of his glamour. "Pull your mask up, starshine."

Aether wordlessly obeyed, and Dew's gaze softened at the sight of his lip bitten raw, fear written clear as day across his expression.

"Do you want a distraction?" Dew asked, gently reaching up to pet at Aether's cheek. He nodded, and Dew grabbed his Grucifix necklace, pulling gently until Aether leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He had blushed so hard it almost looked purple, but he stopped shaking, and Dew counted that as a win.

Especially when they got off stage, and Aether had given him the biggest grin he'd ever seen on the quintessence ghoul's face.

For six years, for as long as they'd been touring together, Aether had sidled up to Dew, leaning down and grinning. "You're not nervous anymore," Dew scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he'd still stand up on his tiptoes to give Aether his preshow good luck kiss.

Aether's not here now. He's retired to work in the infirmary with Omega, and Dew had thought he'd finished processing that. He's dead wrong.

He glances to stage left, to where his Fantomen hangs around the new kid's neck, and it doesn't quite dwarf them the way Dew thought it would when he had first seen the new quintessence ghoul. But it's still strange and unfamiliar, and the pit in his chest wrenches at him, and Dew knows what he has to do.

There's a call for places. Unlike the rest of the band pack, Dew ignores it, stomping across the stage until he gets to Aeon.

They jolt, posture straightening as he approaches, and Dew can't exactly blame them. He's been cold and a little distant from them, but he shakes his head, reaching out to pull them down gently by the tubing on their helmet.

He can't see their expression, just the curve of their lips under their balaclava, but he leans in and kisses right between the horns of their helmet.

"You'll do fine," he says softly, and darts back to his place just as Imperium starts, leaving Aeon to wonder what just happened.

#ok i fucked around with tenses and wrote this while at work so if there's any mistakes that's on me #but again crow your brain is huge and i wanted to jump on this one #dew being reluctantly but genuinely soft to aeon my beloved #dot's writing #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #forlorn_crows #fic request #kiss prompts

[littlemissmanga]

Good Morning! I’m making some rounds asking for some of this beautiful fluff with a touch of giggle in this prompt list.

So if you would give this prompt a go- "well i guess that answers my question." With Rex saying it?

Have a wonderful day!

Hello dearie!! Oh, I will always put forth an effort for our dear captain! I am making my way slowly through these but thrilled to say I have finally finished this one.

I hope you enjoy!

A Little Something Sweet for Breakfast

Pairing: Rex x short!Reader

Warnings: None, pure fluff

W/C: 1,218

Dividers by @saradika

It was quiet in the mess hall and Rex considered that nothing short of a miracle. The 501st was on shore leave and it seemed the boys had their fill of fun the night before considering it was already 0700 and not one of them so much as stirred from the barracks.

Rex strode across the room, datapad in hand and ready to use this rare peace to finally have a quiet, relaxing meal. But as he made his way to grab a ration pack, a shuffle in the next room caught his attention.

The boys rarely went into the kitchens on base. There was never a need. So, as the shuffle grew into a clattering, Rex prepared himself for the inevitable chaos and made his way over. Opening the door, he took in a breath, ready to use his “Captain” voice to startle whichever shiny was making the ruckus … only to choke on his tongue.

“Oh, Captain! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was awake.”

You were … well, he honestly wasn’t sure what you were trying to accomplish with one knee on the counter, pulling your body higher so your other leg dangled beneath you, arms out to hold onto the sides of the cabinet. Metal cutlery and plates littered the counter and floor around you.

“I .. you …” It was far too early for these shenanigans, and Rex was thoroughly at a loss to find you at the center of it this time. As a civilian non-combat operative, you weren’t as disciplined as his boys on the field, but you were generally respectful and kept yourself out of trouble … despite the efforts of some of his vode to corral you into their latest shenanigans.

Certainly a respectable feat, at least in Rex’s book. And that’s all he would attribute the swoop in his stomach to anytime he’d see you. Respect.

If that swoop were accompanied by a heat in his cheeks at the sight of your smile — particularly if directed at him — or the racing of his heart at the sound of your laughter — even faster if he caused it — Rex never let himself do more than acknowledge it.

He was your superior officer, after all. Anything else would be unbecoming of his station.

“What are you doing?” he tried again, trying not to sound as confused as he was.

“Making breakfast.” You turned, bringing up your other leg so your entire body was balanced on the narrow ledge as you dug further.

“Huh.” Stepping closer, Rex slid his datapad onto the counter next to your leg and stood just behind you. Unsure arms kept rising to shadow your back before returning to his side as he grew ever more uneasy by the precarious balance you’d achieved. “Didn’t realize cooking required gymnastics.”

Impressively, much of your torso disappeared into the void of the cabinet when you replied, your voice echoing slightly in the confined space. “It does when everything on this ship is built for giants. Here-”

Rex’s reflexes kicked in, catching the item before he could even register that what you had tossed over your shoulder was a half-finished bread roll. But before he could form his next question — and honestly, he had so many he really didn’t even know where to start — you slipped smoothly down from your perch. Unfortunately, for him, Rex misjudged his own spacing, standing too close to give you enough room. As you moved to the floor, the curve of your rear brushed tantalizingly lightly against his stomach before finally gaining a more respectable distance.

The rush of blood pounding in his ears blocked out most of your own next question. Actually, he couldn’t hear you at all. The movement of your lips as you turned to face him was the only clue he could decipher indicating you’d said anything at all.

“Huh?”

Your lips curled. Maker, he really did like it when you smiled. It wasn’t just with your lips, though their plush, gentle curve was sweet. No, your smile radiated from your eyes, and he knew if he looked too long, he’d be lost.

“I asked if you wanted some, too. I don’t mind making a second helping for you.”

Rex wasn’t a stupid man. He could hear the tease of your tone. The light-hearted nature of your banter along with the sweet offer was a flirtation even he could pick up on. He would never abuse his station and hit on a subordinate. And like a divine solution, here you were, offering him a way forward.

But in that moment, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to get himself to reply with even an ounce of charm he regularly sees his brothers wield.

Never one without a plan of action, Rex was stuck in limbo, struggling to respond with an ounce of the charm he routinely saw his brothers deploy … when he felt his stomach gurgle, the sound radiating out from him to fill the room.

Heat immediately flooded his face, but before he could apologize, your choked laughter rang out.

“I guess that answers my question.”

Stepping into his space again, you took the bread roll from him. But instead of stepping past him, you stayed.

You’d never been that close to him before. So close he could count the lines and imperfections on your face. And he did. He wanted to memorize everything about you.

He was so focused on those details, he missed entirely that you had been closing the distance, standing on your toes to press closer, until your lips pressed lightly against his cheek.

They were cold and chapped and so karking perfect on him. Your warm breath against his skin flooded any remaining rational thought away.

When you pulled back, your eyes didn’t meet his despite Rex being sure you could feel the intensity of his stare. Instead, you looked past him as you fell back onto your heels, a hand coming to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you repositioned to move away.

“Right, well, breakfast will be ready in just a —”

He didn’t let you finish. Before you could step away, Rex’s hand slid to gently hold the curve of your jaw, keeping you in place as he tilted your face up to his. You blinked owlishly up at him.

“You missed,” he said, finally getting his brain back online. “I think you should try that again.”

To Rex’ delight, your smile returned as you leaned back in. Only this time, he met you halfway, biting back a satisfied moan at the press of your lips against his. Taking a half step forward, he invaded your space as you had his, encircling you in his arms as he lost himself in the moment.

After what was probably too long, Rex finally let you go. Your eyes stayed closed for a heartbeat more, even as you moved back, shifting your weight to rest more against his hold on you, and Rex greedily took the chance to appreciate everything about your contented expression in the moment, satisfaction coiling inside him knowing he put that look on your face.

When you did open your eyes, there was a twinkle of mischief in them you usually kept well hidden. “Better?” you asked.

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Much.”

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Taglist: @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @freesia-writes @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @anxiouspineapple99 @wizardofrozz @dhawerdaverd @mythical-illustrator @dreamie411

#captain rex x reader #tcw rex x reader #fluffy fic #pure fluff #first kiss prompt

[dominimoonbeam]

Soo... Darlin accidentally electrocute themselves / drowned and is in dire need for mouth to mouth from the vamp they just started seeing.. 👀

Just a suggestion. I love your work and know you're really busy so no pressure with that.I hope you have a wonderful day! ❤️

❄️

ANON! Thank you so much for this ask! I went with electrocution... This definitely got a little angsty but how could it not with these two? I hope you enjoy it! <3 <3 <3

Darlin/Sam

tags: near death experience, cpr, angst, fear of loss, idiots in love, first kiss

You Taste Like Life

He came over at sundown to help out with the remodel. Darlin bought a place, a dump, and wanted to fix it up. He’d warned them it was too much work but only half-heartedly because he was hoping they’d ask him to help.

They did.

It was the first time since he became a vampire that he had a friendship with no connection to his life before or his turning. It was… real, in a way nothing had been since. They were friends. Real friends. Friends that flirted sometimes…

He went back out to the truck to grab the rest of the painting supplies. They were finally done with the repairs and onto making at least a couple of the rooms livable.

A light flicked inside the house and he froze. It was like they’d plugged in the big spotlight lamp and the bulb had burst.

But it was the silence that hit him first, incomprehensible and yet instantly registering. It was a shock to his system, jerking his body upright and turning even before his hearing caught the sound of their body crumpling to the floor inside.

Sam hadn’t realized how entuned he’d become to them—to their heartbeat, until it went silent.

He hadn’t known he loved them like that, until the idea of them being gone rocked him.

He dropped the paint cans and was back inside the house in a flash. The living room was moon lit but his eyes took in everything. A scorch mark up the wall from the light socket, the scent of that burn still in the air, and their body on the floor beside it, hand still gripping the melted plug of the lamp.

“No,” the word fell out of him, not even a whisper. He was on his knees next to them, hands hovering. Their eyes were open but they weren’t seeing him—they weren’t there. It was like the life inside them had just been turned off. “Oh god, no.” He touched their sides, gently rearranging them on the floor on their back. “Please.” He didn’t know he was talking. The words streamed across his mind in a flood of panic and heartbreak he had never prepared for.

“Wait. Wait.” He wanted to heal them, to lean back on those powers, but there was nothing to heal when they were just… dead. He tipped their head back, thumbed their jaw down and leaned over them. Lips to lips, he blew air into their lungs and then sat up, hands together and pressing down on their chest.

“Come back. I’ll heal everything else. Just come back,” he pleaded, unaware of any of those words. He blew another breath into their lungs and then did compressions, cringing when he heard a rib crack but didn’t stop. He’d heal it. He’d heal it after they… After they…

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing CPR. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Someone would have to find him and tear him away. He couldn’t just let them go. He couldn’t…

Darlin came back to life with a gasp, arching off the floor and then jerking to the side to cough hard. Their heart was a rampage in his skull, his hands always on them. He knew he should say something, should tell them they were okay, but his own mind needed those seconds to catch up. It felt like his whole world had ended and now it just wasn’t.

They groaned, hanging onto the arm he had around them. “Fuck… What…” They croaked and winced, pulling the lamp plug from their hand, plastic and skin melted. “Damn it!”

He could heal that. He would. He just…

“Sam?” Their voice was rough and their eyes, one red where it should be white, turning up to him and filling with panic. “Your crying… Are you hurt?” They sat up, pain a flicker across their face at those broken ribs but it didn’t stop them from reaching for him with their good hand, eyes quickly scanning him for injury.

“I… No… I… You…” He closed his eyes. Fuck. He had to get himself together, but his heart was pounding and his emotions rampaging in all directions. “You were dead.”

They were still for a minute, sitting there on the floor facing him. “I was?”

He sighed and opened his eyes, really hating how unbothered they were about the fact, still just worried about him. “Darlin…” When he opened his eyes, they had a little smile he hadn’t been expecting.

They reached up slowly and thumbed the tear off his cheek with their good hand. “Did you save me, cowboy?”

He sighed, leaning his face into their hand. “I broke your ribs.”

Darlin shrugged. “That one always breaks. Not your fault.”

He frowned reaching out with the same slowness that they had—giving all the time to be stopped—before his fingers touched the hem of their shirt, sliding up under it to palm their naked side underneath. Their heart beat faster, their eyes on him. He poured magic into them, gently healing the delicate bones he’d broken inside their chest.

“Thank you,” they said. “And for saving me…”

He winced and shook his head, not sure he could talk about that yet. His hand moved slowly from their side to their arm, sliding down to their wrist and easing more magic through his touch to heal their palm. They shivered and sighed.

He hadn’t wanted to be left behind when he faced a world without their heartbeat. That was a lot to unpack. “Darlin…” Their hand had settled on the side of his neck, their eyes fluttered shut from the magic in their system. A little tug and they were sitting in his lap. Their heart beat faster and their eyes opened, one still violently red. He needed to explain how scared he’d been, how this changed things, but could only stare back at them and hope they got it.

A funny smile played at the corner of Darlin’s mouth. “Did you kiss me?”

He touched their temple, more magic, healing their eye. “I gave you CPR.”

“That sounds like some bullshit excuse for a kiss, cowboy.”

Sam sighed, inches between them, their body practically melting into his now that they had magic rolling through their muscles. “Are you really complaining?”

“I’m just saying… I would have liked to remember being kissed by you,” they countered in a mumble.

It was his heart that skipped beats then.

Their eyes opened again, meeting his gaze and waiting.

Sam had missed a lot of moments in his life—and his death. He had a habit of hesitating and letting things pass him by, of overthinking and talking himself out of things. But if he let it happen now, if he didn’t kiss Darlin the way he wanted to so badly… they’d think he didn’t want to. They’d accept that, of course, and they’d continue to be friends, but he would have hurt something he could never heal, no matter how much magic he burned. And life was so fragile. One second they were there and the next they were gone.

Fuck that.

He touched the small of their back, bringing them that inch closer to his chest and sealing their lips in a kiss. He felt their surprise melt away, arms curling around him and lips parting.

How could someone that had just been dead taste so much like life?

#redactedverse #redacted asmr #fanfic #fic prompts #first kiss prompt #dominimoonbeam #<3 #darlin/sam