#Sunday six
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Sunday Six
Especially when the next words out of Steve’s mouth are a hurried, “Eddie, man–think you can change this bandage for me?”
Eddie's eyes dart down to the scrap of Wheeler’s shirt wrapped around Harrington’s middle, the darkened stain of rust colored blood coating it–and, yeah, shit. Definitely makes sense, now, why Steve dragged him in here.
“I’d ask Robin,” Steve is saying, “but, dude, you saw how she got about the rabies, and I really don’t wanna freak her out more than she already is. And Nance–well, after the shit she already went through tonight, I’m not gonna put this on her too. There’s Henderson or Sinclair, I guess, but–”
Steve bites at his bottom lip, and, sure, Eddie’s never been that great in school, but he can put the pieces together well enough. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out, especially after the little show they’d put on in the living room–Steve doesn’t want the kids to realize just how badly he’s hurt, or burden the girls.
He wonders how he should feel about the fact that Harrington’s willing to let him shoulder some of the responsibility with him, and decides to take it as a compliment.
“Harrington,” Eddie cuts him off with a hand to the shoulder, meant to be reassuring, “you don’t have to sell me on it, man. I’ll do it. Happy to help.”
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Thanks for the tags @theprinceandagcd @sunnysideprince @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 and @wordsofhoneydew!
I'm finally back to writing after a three-week break, and it feels pretty great. This snippet is from an impromptu WIP that's not my usual style, but I think I like it so far.
Brown eyes are the most common in the world, and Henry’s never felt one way or another about them. That is, until he locked gazes with one Alexander Claremont-Diaz on a humid day in Rio.
His eyes are tinged with golden flecks, something precious shining bright with each lingering look. They are pools of dark chocolate, and Henry drowns in their sweetness.
Common and average simply do not apply when it comes to Alex. This man is the most beautiful person Henry’s ever known, and he’s unlike any other, past, present or future.
He thinks that perhaps Alex was made for him, that he’s been given the most unique gift the universe could offer.
Tagging @anincompletelist @firenati0n @lfg1986-2 @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @itsmaybitheway @saturntheday @piratefalls @kiwiana-writes @youtastelike-sunlight @priincebutt @ladyknightellen @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @bitbybitwrites @jamilas-pen @meraki-yao @captainjunglegym @anchoredarchangel @lizzie-bennetdarcy @ghostwithatophat and anyone who'd like an open tag! I think I'm forgetting a few people, please feel free to yell at me if you're one of them. 🙏
#six sentence sunday#seven sentence sunday#sentence sunday#sunday six#rwrb fic#rwrb fanfic#firstprince fic#firstprince fanfiction#red white and royal blue#firstprince#alex claremont diaz#prince henry of wales#henry fox#rwrb#nocoastposts fic#firstprince fanfic
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.:Du erzählst mir jetzt alles.
PISSHAARGENAU:.
#leo hölzer#esther baumann#tatort saarbrücken#my art#sketchbook#sunday six#stellt es euch gespiegelt vor ID#der fluch des geldes
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Sunday Six, December 17th, 2023
Hehe, I'm nice and early so I'm gonna tag the shit out of a few people! After sharing my Sunday Six, of course, so here's a bit of my Christmas fic for you!
He’d missed two calls from Nora, vaguely feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, but he’d been too enthralled to care. All he could think about was getting Henry out of that stupid costume and into his bed. He hadn’t even hesitated to approach him as soon as the gift-giving event was over and Henry hadn’t really thought twice about the offer either, accepting immediately.
Alex had expected to take him home, fuck him until neither of them could feel their legs and then send the guy on his way. What he hadn’t expected was the massive, uncut cock and the fucking nipple ring.
I'm tagging @magicandarchery @wordsofhoneydew @anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @ninzied @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @winderlylandchime and a special tag to @bigassbowlingballhead because I know you've finally started writing! No pressure of course ♥
EDIT: omg I forgot to tag @eusuntgratie! Can't believe the audacity, sorry love! I definitely want your Sunday Six, haha! ♥
#fanfic#ao3#ao3 author#fanfic authors#fandom#red white and royal blue#au#rwrb#fanfiction#my fic#fic rec#sunday six#wip#current wip#christmas fic#my fanfiction#fanfic writing#rwrb fic#alternate universe#alex claremont diaz#henry fox#alex and henry
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Sunday Six 03.03.2024
I'm a day early but I'll forget by tomorrow!!
Listen, I feel like I haven't posted in forever, despite the fact that my recently posted list has eight things for February. Still. None of my eight chapters last month were from any of my ongoing series. (They were from my open-ended stuff or they were one-shots).
Just so you guys know I have not forgotten about them, here are excerpts from the four that are closest to completion.
As usual, the snippets are under the cut.
The De Facto Queen Chapter 5:
She hesitated as her hand hovered over the knob. Something was clearly wrong, or the head of the Royal Guard wouldn’t be on the phone with her fiancé. The memory of being shot at engulfed her. The smell of gunpowder in her nose, the thunderous booming of the gun in her ears, the wet stickiness of Drake’s blood on her skin and the crippling fear of loss all washed over her with incapacitating suddenness.
The knock sounded again. She jumped, jerking away from the door as if she’d been scalded. “Who is it?”
Savage Love Chapter 37:
The American justice system had failed and released a known mobster, allowing him to slip through their security net. But he wasn’t in America anymore. He was on my turf, and I had a literal license to kill.
Rico Mendez would spend the rest of his life in a Cordonian prison, or he would die, and it didn’t matter much to me which one it was. All I cared about was getting him off the streets and keeping Riley safe.
We arrived at the rendezvous spot, but nothing went according to plan.
Heir Apparent Chapter 21:
“Remind me again why I have to attend this ball tonight?” Riley grumbled as she pulled at her dress while frowning at her reflection in the mirror.
She was tired. She was huge. Her feet hurt.
“Because it’s a tradition, καρδιά μου,” Drake told her gently as he grasped her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “And you can stop fussing with the dress. You look beautiful.”
“Well, it’s a stupid tradition,” she muttered with a shake of her head. Her bad mood evaporated as she looked up into her husband’s face. “Can you sneak me out of there early?”
“You know this ball is in your honor, right?”
“It’s in the baby’s honor not mine,” she quipped, “And the baby wants to go to bed early tonight.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Dark Elf Chapter 8:
“That’s your problem,” she moved her still-naked body closer to him, her hand moving from his chest to snake through his hair, “Living with humans has made you soft. You shouldn’t have trusted him, and you shouldn’t have trusted me.”
“No,” Liam shook his head, “We’re friends, I didn’t need to force him—"
“You act like the bond is a thing that traps him. The bond between a spell breaker and their master keeps you both safe!”
“In what way?” Liam asked incredulously.
She scooted closer still so that their bodies were pressed firmly against each other. Her head tipped back to stare up into his eyes. “It would have prevented me from taking him for starters.”
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sunday six ! 😎🫡 back at it with the jimas and Daigo Depression- truly, what else does user mike----wazowski write about
tagging @four-white-trees @skysquid22 @overdevelopedglasses @passthroughtime @woundedheartwithin :)
***
Saejima bit the inside of his cheek, watching Daigo's motionless figure. "We gotta get him moving."
"Throw him over your shoulder and carry him back," Majima suggested. "And we'll work from there."
"He ain't exactly a featherweight. He'd break my back," Saejima said. "We'll use our words."
He set off through the grass, back towards Daigo. Blowing out more smoke, Majima muttered, "God help us."
Despite being a good deal heavier, Saejima had the more delicate approach to his sworn brother. He laid a hand on Daigo's shoulder, grasping it firmly but gently (in contrast to Majima's tactic, a hearty smack on the back). "Daigo. Your balls will fall off out here in this cold. Come back inside."
Majima tucked Daigo's lighter and box of cigarettes back into his pocket, and waved a hand in front of his face. "Wouldn't it be comfier to mope around by a heater, with some food in ya? Put yer feet up first, then be miserable."
Daigo's face was slack, but there was a flicker of effort in his eyes as he mustered up a response: "I'm tired."
It was a small victory, but both Majima and Saejima relaxed as they heard his voice.
"That's what a bed is for. Can't kip out here on the rocks," Saejima told him. "You can sleep back home. C'mon."
"Too tired," Daigo whispered.
Like a car outta gas.
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sunday six 2.18.24
tagged by @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @lostcol @getmehighonmagic @winderlylandchime @anincompletelist @captainjunglegym @sunnysideprince @magicandarchery @firenati0n
i promise i tried to work on elliott x marco but my brain refused to cooperate. so i, uh. started something else. oops. behold, a few sentences of henry losing his pretty little mind over hot mechanic alex.
The front door is locked, but the big bay door is still open with a light on inside. He walks in, hoping someone’s still here.
“Hello?” he calls out, hovering near the front, unsure if he should go further into the shop.
Some movement catches his eye, and he watches, mouth agape, as a man slides out from under an old pick up truck on some sort of wheeled, flat cart and gracefully unfolds himself to his full height. Henry’s shock turns to horror as the most beautiful man he’s ever seen wipes his grease-stained unfairly large hands on his thighs and unbuttons his coveralls, pulling his arms out and letting the top half dangle below his waist. He’s wearing a thin ribbed tank top underneath that was probably white at some point, but is now marked and stained with what looks like years of sweat and dirt. Henry wants to drop to his knees.
open tag for anyone with words to share and/or who needs the motivation + tagging @bigassbowlingballhead bc this is, as usual, his fault <3
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sunday snippet!
tagged by @grand-magnificent , tagging @realworldchamp , @sequentialprophet , @joestrummen , any writer mutuals i've forgotten!
cmjf soulmate au, under a cut for length and angst
-----
Everything Punk says feels like a special kind of targeted cruelty.
Having a soulmate shouldn't feel like—like this. Painful, agonising, every word out of his mouth forming another fucking wound inside him, and Punk's just holding the scalpel and laughing—
“—the most important day of your life, but to me, it was Friday.”
Oh.
Oh.
Max hasn't felt much in the way of heartbreak before. Been too busy breaking hearts, let's be honest.
If he had to imagine it, though... he thinks it might feel a little bit like this. Like his heart is genuinely being torn in two.
He wonders if it's possible for soulmates to reject the bond; if this is what Punk's trying to do, because the idea of being connected to Max is apparently so fucking disgusting to him, but the worst part is, he's looked. He's looked it up, to see if he can undo it, to see if he can break it, just so he can be done with Punk, but nobody's done it before, nobody even knows if it's possible.
He feels like if anyone could break a soulmate bond, Punk could. Punk could do anything.
There was a time when that thought was a comfort to him.
There's so much he wants to say; so much he could say. He could expose his wrist, show the whole fucking world exactly what Punk means to him, what Punk's words mean to him, make it really fucking public exactly what they are to each other, but—
Who would care?
Who would give a shit about him when his own soulmate doesn't? When his own soulmate has spent the last three months coming out and telling him over and over and over exactly how much of a disappointment he is, exactly how little he means to him.
Max eyes him up as he holds up the collar and chain, talking some kind of shit about wanting to be tethered to someone so bad, and it takes everything Max has not to do something stupid, launch himself into the ring, which is no doubt exactly what Punk wants, for Max to lose his cool, prove himself every bit the petulant child Punk sees him as.
But apparently he also wants to tie them together physically, while he carries on denying the less tangible thing tying them together.
You don't get it both ways, he wants to say. You don't get to keep chasing me, keep demanding a rematch, refusing to let me go until you explain why you called me a disappointment—
But the words don't come. They sit in the back of his throat like a brick, but full of sharp edges.
He's not going to cry. Not here. Not for him.
He turns around.
He walks away in silence.
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Sunday Seven
Eddie’s surprised to find a few exceptions to the room’s cold tidiness, however, and even more surprised to find it in the form of a stack of fantasy novels stashed inside the bedside table and a couple of action figures tossed in one corner.
Following his gaze, Steve turns and gives him a wry look.
“Dustin stays over sometimes,” he explains, “the other rugrats, too, but it’s still mostly his stuff that winds up here. Leaves his shit all over the place.”
There’s a fondness to Steve’s smile that undercuts the annoyance in his words.
Eddie thinks back to the months and months Dustin spent talking Steve up to him. How even then it never really occurred to him just how close they might be.
He’s not exactly sure how to phrase the feeling that comes over him, so instead he says, “I can’t believe we’re best friends with a fourteen year old, man.”
“God, tell me about it.”
#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#henderfam#henderfamily#my writing#my things#my stuff#sunday six#(but i did seven this weekend)
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This is more than six/seven sentences, but we can pretend it fits the definition of Six Sentence Sunday.
A snippet from Praise & Supplication, a Firstprince fic WIP that originated with this smut drabble.
“Does that turn you on, darling? To think about how good you are for me, how well you listen when you’re spread out beneath me?” Henry coos as he coaxes Alex’s legs open further.
Alex feels a hot flush spread across his face, but there is no shame or embarrassment behind it. Doing his best for Henry, giving him everything, being his everything…nothing makes Alex feel headier than this.
Henry brings two fingers to Alex’s lips and gently presses between them. “Suck”, he says in an even, deep tone. Alex eagerly runs his tongue over the two digits, the press of them causing spit to pool in his mouth. A bit of drool trickles down his chin, and Henry leans forward to slowly lick it up.
Alex moans loudly around his fingers as the two hold steady eye contact. Henry’s pupils are blown wide with lust, admiration, and a tinge of something darker. Something that only Alex would ever revel in.
Tagging @wordsofhoneydew @bigassbowlingballhead @littlemisskittentoes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @dragonflylady77 @eusuntgratie @sparklepocalypse and anyone who’d like an open tag!
#six sentences sunday#sunday six#seven sentence sunday#six sentence sunday#rwrb fic#rwrb fanfic#firstprince fic#firstprince fanfic#firstprince smut#nocoastposts#nocoastposts fic#my fic#my wips#firstprince#rwrb#red white and royal blue#alex claremont diaz#alex/henry#prince henry fox#prince henry fox mountchristen windsor#praise and supplication fic
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six sentence sunday
There was a second of silence during which Astarion stared down at Shadowheart and she stared back up; both of them perhaps wondering if this was a dream. Two centuries of misery, an alien abduction, a week of holding out, and now this. Had he really been found out in only two days?
And then Shadowheart screeched, scrambling back, and her hand flew to her throat, as if he had even touched her, the dramatic thing—by now she would be regretting sleeping outside tonight, much like Astarion was regretting going for the easy prey, instead of risking Mr. Gallantry’s tent. “What is wrong with you?” she gasped.
“Well to start, I have an illithid parasite infecting my brain,” Astarion began.
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Six Sentence Sunday, September 10
How many WIPs? Countless.
“Well, the recipe only calls for one,” Henry says, replacing the egg and closing the carton gingerly. “But I do suppose you have a point—”
“Recipe?” Alex tilts his head to the side. “What are you, like, some kind of stress baker?”
“I wish,” Henry laughs. “I teach 8th grade English and tomorrow is Foodie Friday… which is generally just me being conned into baking cookies for my class.”
Alex grins. “That is fucking adorable.”
#rwrb#rwrb fic#firstprince#alex x henry#rwrb wip#rwrb au#sunday six#six sentence sunday#my sunday six#my fic
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Mara held up a hand. Luke fell silent.
Without warning, Mara’s right hand shot out to the side. With a twist of her wrist and a clench of her fist, two boys were jerked off their feet and out of their hiding spot behind one of the large cargo crates.
They giggled and squirmed as she suspended them upside down in mid-air with the Force, utterly unphased by her scowl. Stalking over, she leaned in to peer at the smaller one.
Luke could feel them communicate, though he couldn’t make out the exchange. The Force was bright around the child, and his adoration of Mara shone unmistakably.
Shaking her head, Mara made a show of dumping them both on the ground — though gently enough for them to roll out of the drop, still grinning. Scrambling to their feet, they turned to Luke, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Well,” Mara said impatiently, “go on, then. Introduce yourselves.”
“I’m Davin Fel,” the older said, bobbing a half-bow in Luke’s direction. “This is my brother Chak.” He radiated pride and a little bit of challenge. “Lady Jade is our aunt.”
“Mother says you have to come to dinner,” Chak piped up.
“Fierfek,” Mara muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “If your mother wants us to come to dinner, she knows where to send the invitation,” she said aloud. “Now get back to your studies before you get us all in trouble.”
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ello again sunday six
today's is a fic im writing after seeing daigo's scenes in IW... he is doing absolutely terribly and ofc that made my fic brain whir. daigo depression is back on the menu lads
this isnt really any plot spoilers but it is indicative of 3jima's state in IW so i'm only gonna tag a couple of ppl in this one, just in case the others playing the game rn dont wanna know 🫡 @skysquid22 @four-white-trees
***
Majima took the cigarette box without asking; if Daigo had any complaints, he didn't voice them. He didn't voice anything at all. Ink-black water lapped over the rocks and splashed against him, but he did not move.
"He say anything to ya?" Saejima asked, as Majima rejoined him on the grass.
"Didn't even look at me." Majima lit a stolen cigarette, and spoke the next words as casually as he would talk about going to the store, as if Daigo wasn't standing paralysed before him. "You think he's lost it?"
"Think so," Saejima murmured. "He's not been eating, he's not been sleeping. I ain't surprised he's cracked."
Majima took a drag of tobacco. "He held out for a pretty long time, all things considered."
"These things catch up to ya. There was a man back in the joint who was the same. Kept on keepin' on- until he couldn't." Saejima sighed. "One day he sat down and couldn't get back up. Just plain broke down like a car outta gas, stopped moving all together- said he didn't see the point of it. Wasn't like there was anywhere for him to go."
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SUNDAY SIX!
tagged by @godiva-device
tagging @wrestleish @booboo-eyedbambi @blizzardsuplex
MCMG under the cut
"I'll never stay," Alex says, quiet in the dim empty corridor, shoulder pressed into Chris, brutally honest as always.
Chris says nothing because what is there to say. It was true when they started tagging together and it's true now. Alex has changed in a lot of ways, but his restlessness has always remained.
"But I always come back," Alex continues, tapping his fist gently on Chris's knee. "For you."
It's quiet and all Chris can hear is his own breathing and the tap of Alex's finger on his wrist.
"You have to decide if that's enough," Alex says, then he kisses Chris's temple, a hot press of his mouth, affectionate.
He pats Chris's thigh, then jumps down from the table and ambles off down the hallway. Chris bites his lip and refuses to watch him go.
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Sunday Six, November 27th, 2023
Thanks for the tags, @wordsofhoneydew and @kiwiana-writes! I haven't been writing much in the past few days because I've been feeling a bit drained, but I did start a new one-shot, so I figured I'll share some of that!
“Henry,” he eventually says, his voice soft and his tone gentle, “what on earth makes you think you’re not good enough for me? You’re everything I’ve wanted since I was thirteen fucking years old.”
Henry shrugs and digs his teeth into his plush bottom lip. He drops his eyes to the counter and sniffs quietly. “Ican’tgiveyouwhatyouneed.”
If Alex had been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have understood a word. Fortunately, he knows Henry like the back of his hand. “You’re right,” Alex says. Henry’s head snaps up, his eyes panicked, but Alex smiles lovingly at him. “You give me so much more,” he goes on. “You’ve given me more than I thought I needed and you continue to do so every single day. Being your boyfriend is the best fucking thing in the world.”
No pressure tag for @magicandarchery, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire and anyone who wants to participate! ♥
#fanfic#ao3#ao3 author#fanfic authors#fandom#fanfiction#fanfic writing#my fanfiction#fic rec#rwrb#rwrb movie#red white and royal blue#wip#henry fox mountchristen windsor#alex claremont diaz#alex and henry#sunday six
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