#a love letter to fanfic writers

[deathsweetblossoms]

I hope some of you know that I go back and reread your fics multiple times. I’m not talking “oh so cute let’s reread this once”, I’m talking I go back MULTIPLE TIMES and just gorge myself on beautiful storytelling and memorable quotes and all of the imagery, and sometimes I’ll make a Pinterest board for it. Sometimes I memorize lines you've written as though they're song lyrics. You all elevate these stories in such a way and are very much appreciated <3

[ervotica]

“shhh, shhh..I know, I know..” with finnick pls 🥺

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: this takes place after the poison fog, r is badly injured and finnick takes care of her

hunger games masterlist

You twitch against Finnick’s chest in the tall grass, rough like sandpaper against your wounded face. You’re covered head to toe in blisters from the fog, eyes half lidded as you begin to lose consciousness from the pain.

Katniss’ strangled wail is muffled and far away in your ears and you barely register the words.

“The water! The water helps.”

You drag yourself from where you’ve collapsed on top of your fiancé; crawling along on your elbows, you make it a couple of feet at most before you’re exhausted; your entire body is burning, skin raw, every little touch flaring up every nerve ending inside of you.

There’s a rustling next to you as Finnick is lifted and dragged to the shallow pool of water a few feet away; there’s a splash and a gurgled scream as Katniss and Peeta start to clean his blistered skin.

“Finnick,” you gasp, your concern for him overriding the searing pain for a split second. “Finn,” you croak again, eyes heavy.

It’s quiet for a minute, the only sound the whispering of leaves brushing against each other. All the while you lay face down, trying to peel your eyes open where they feel like they’ve been superglued shut.

Thick fingers pull at your jaw and your head turns; your neck is stiff and the touch feels like the lick of a flame against your bulging wounds.

“C’mon,” It’s Peeta. “Gotta get you to the water.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got her,” comes Finnick’s voice and his hands pull you up by the armpits. You hiss and squirm away from his hold, the skin on skin contact causing too much pain.

“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” He speaks in that soft voice you love, the one reserved just for you. “It’ll feel better soon.”

He lowers you into the water and you scream. It’s a pain unlike any you’ve ever felt before, white-hot and scalding. It’s like you’re bleeding from every pore.

“Shhh, shhh… I know, I know.” He winces as the blisters start to lodge free from your skin and you relax, sagging in his arms.

“‘S better,” you slur. Your eyes snap open as you grapple for purchase against Finnick’s neck; your thumb rubs circles into his cheek. “You’re okay? You’re sure you’re okay?”

He laughs, incredulous that even at a time like this, he’s where your worries lie. Pointed teeth glare back at you as you thumb at his bottom lip and smile.

“I’m fine. Just worried about you.”

“I feel better. I’m okay now.”

His muscular arms engulf you, wrapping around your waist now it’s finally safe to touch you again.

[bluishfrog]

Inspired by "complete" by norethor

Fic Art Friday - event tag - event description

[marvelousbuckley]

Some BuckTommy love letters 💖

Hello everyone! As you know, i've had some trouble at home and it prevented me from writing. But I missed my lovely BuckTommy so much, and I missed writing too! So I decided to start to write again, but slow and easy as to preserve myself. Still, we're #1 on tumblr!! It's something to celebrate am I right? So here is some cheesy love letter from Tommy to Buck!

My great, adorable, fabulous friend @bangpop91 send me the word "fantasy" and I want for it lmao. It's explicit but also really cheesy. You can find it on AO3 or below!

Feel free to send an ask with a word to inspire me some love letters!

Enjoy 💖

-----

My sweet boyfriend,

I need to come clean.

I lied to you. I lied about what I wanted to do to you when you asked me yesterday, naked in my arms, your tights strongly wrapped around my waist.

I told you about this fantasy, about you at my mercy, tied up and gagged and not able to do a thing but take it again and again. I told you about how you would look pretty, unable to beg me for more, tears in your eyes and skin flushed red. I told you about your body screaming for release, and mine selfishly thrusting into your powerless form, looking for my own pleasure, and you enjoying being used so much.

And sure, I would love that. I would love to see you trembling and pleading with your pretty, wet eyes, your cock in need of attention but receiving none. What a great fantasy to have and to fulfil don’t you think? Especially with you, so sweet and expressive and beautiful when you cry.

I don’t lie to you often, but it happens. Like yesterday, when I tried to sound filthy enough without scaring you. Don’t want you to think I’m some king of pervert, right?

Here is the thing, Evan Buckley. I’m not a beast, or a smooth guy, or some sort of sex god. Well, I’m not only that.

I’m a sap. The biggest, cheesiest sap you ever met baby. Head over heels, besotted, idiot over you it makes me think crazy thoughts.

My biggest fantasy is not to have you at my mercy. It’s not to have you in any sexual way, even though I have a lot more than what I said to you in my mind. Things I can’t tell you now, things I’m even ashamed to want because it’s how I’ve been raised. With shame of myself, of my sexuality, of wanting men. Depraved thoughts I’m not sure you are ready for, my sweet sweet boy.

One day I’ll tell you about them, maybe. If I feel like you could want them too. Maybe you’ll surprise me, maybe you’re kinkier than my other relationships were.

But I can’t tell you about my biggest want, about this huge fantasy of mine that grows deep in my guts, in my soul even. The one of you in a blue suit, perfect shape, colour making your eyes shines. Of me dressed in white, a way of saying fuck you to my dad, to my old self. I’m sure I’ll look good in white. I’ll even look better with a ring on my left hand. A ring I stopped imagining a long time ago but that can’t stop appearing in my dreams now that I know you.

It's way too soon to want to marry you, right? People don’t marry each other so soon. They wait to be sure; they don’t want it to be a mistake or to look too impatient.

But I don’t see a world where you are a mistake Evan.

I can only see blue, and white, and tears. The happiest kind.

Maybe one day this will be more than just a fantasy.

Yours,

Tommy

[young-royals-confessions]

I just want to say THANK YOU to all the amazing fanfic writers, they’re truly a gift to this fandom. They’re keeping Wilmon’s love alive and sharing so many beautiful stories with us. Make sure to let them know how much you love their work, reblog their posts and share their stories because they take time out of their busy lives to do this. I can’t say how much I appreciate you all.

💌

[sad-scarred-sassy]

All I seem to do lately is read god tier Elucien fanfiction and good for me🫦

Fanfic writers, please know that I will always love you. Thank you for blessing us with your art.

With love, the whole stan community

[elliewlums]

Not a very specific request but I’d love to see some touchstarved!Billy x clingy!Reader please and thank you 😊

touchstarved!billy my fucking beloved</3 also this is shit i apologise

content warnings: touch starved!billy🥺 touch aversion due to being touch starved, v soft, billy gets all the luv and cuddles<3

billy’s been neglected his whole life; it’s a fact you’ve very begrudgingly come to terms with. a fact that, even after months of dating your sweet boy, fills you with white-hot, indescribable rage. how is it fair? that the people that were supposed to protect him damaged him beyond comprehension.

billy struggles with physical touch. you can see in his expression how badly he desires to be held, to cuddle in bed and on the sofa and hold hands at the supermarket, just little mundane things. but he’s incredibly shy and he’d never make the first move, so that leaves it down to you.

of course, you’re eager to oblige.

at first it’s slow, a brush of your knuckles against his cheek when you leave the bed to make him breakfast, a kiss on the shoulder when he’s faced away from you. and when you’re sure he’s comfortable, it increases. a kiss under his jaw just because you feel like it, climbing into his arms in the middle of the night and tangling your limbs with his own.

he’s startled when you hug him in the shop one day. he goes taut and draws himself tight; you pull away to look at his face.

“this okay, baby?”

he nods, lip quivering, and you coo, reaching up to hold his chin between your thumb and finger.

“what’s the face for, then?”

he shakes his head and sniffs, but nuzzles into your hand when you splay your fingers to rub his stubbled cheek.

“jus’, no one’s ever hugged me like that before.”

“like what, hon?”

“like they love me, y���know?”

your heart breaks. “i do love you.”

the ghost of a smile plays across his lips, so quick that you might’ve thought you’d imagined it if you didn’t know better.

“you do?”

“of course i do.”

that conversation seems to have opened the floodgates for billy. he holds your hand the entire way home, white knuckled and clinging, and is reluctant to let go when you fish your house keys out of your pocket.

when you ask him if he wants to watch a film, he’s ready on the sofa for you to crawl on top of him; you press a firm kiss to his cheek and drape your arms around his neck. he goes soft and boneless, face pressed to the juncture of your neck as your hands rub along his back in big, sweeping circles.

and when he starts to loll and his eyes flutter shut, you pull him up and slide him into bed, wrapping him in blankets. he whines until you press your body against his and kiss all over his pretty face. despite the big bed, there’s not an ounce of space between the pair of you: his legs entwined with yours, his head on your chest, arms squeezing at your middle. you brush soft curls out of his face when his breaths deepen and slow. it’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him.

“love you,” he mumbles, half asleep.

“love you more, baby.”

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

Seeing that one post going around that's just basically 'say if you ever read fanfictions that are better than published books' and it's like, yeah of course there are some that are better, because some people are genuinely good writers, but also there are good books too, and then seeing people say things like, 'I have never read a good book I only prefer fanfictions' and it's just?? Seek out some books? There are so many different kinds, for so many different things. It just sounds like you're reading for an easy serotonin boost than really engaging with the work.

People who write books and people who write fanfics have one thing in common: they write. They are doing the act of writing, and each person is going to have different styles and come at it with different experiences. Also, if your favorite fanfic writer comes out with an original work that's not just filing the serial numbers off, will you read it? Or are you only there because they're writing your favorite characters from another piece of media (which might even be from a book?). Speaking as a fanfic writer who is happy when people compliment my writing, please read some books I'm begging. Not everything is from booktok.

[amandamariee]

FIC RECS

as of.....[05/12/2024]

☼ jason grace (the loml)

distance makes the heart grow angrier by @balletfilmss

he's an all american boy by @aezuria

take a break, catch a nap, have a snack by @hopelesslyromanticshark

rain rain go away don't come back another day by @hopelesslyromanticshark

i am my fathers son by @hopelesslyromanticshark

through a loving gaze by @pumpkinbxtch

so american (grecian) by @hopelesslyromanticshark

sweet on you by @supercutszns

the two times percy nearly caught them, and the one he did by @hopelesslyromanticshark

so obsessed with your ex by @balletfilmss

going to school with bf jason by @juneberrie

he wrote 'mine' on my upper thigh by @pumpkinbxtch

the sun is engaged to the sky by @aryxchse

but daddy i love him! by @balletfilmss

all of the chronicles of jj & smartiepants by @jgracie

jason grace x daughter of athena! reader hcs by @hopelesslyromantic-shark

levitating by @ssparksflyy

bookends, bestfriends, deadends by @astronomoney

sun dresses are so in! by @crownofgildedlilies

dating jason grace would include by @girlkisser13

little miss grumpy and little mister sunshine by @hopelesslyromanticsharkhark

☼ leo valdez (i need him in my life)

my boyfriend is my wallet by @sunnitheapollokid

property of leo valdez by @hopelesslyromanticshark

normal teenage things by @hopelesslyromanticshark

king of my heart by @pinkdiorluvr

the fish like your shirt by @hopelesslyromanticshark

she's like a shot of espresso by @letsmyy

flower king of my heart by @sunnitheapollokid

"my honeybee, come and get this pollen!" by @leovaldezluvr

love(sick) by @turquoisenintendo64

leo's sunshine by @sunnitheapollokid

☼ percy jackson (#1 book boyfriend)

home to her (smau) by @balletfilmss

save a turtle, fall in love, all in a days work by @hopelesslyromanticshark

the same type of blue by @aryxchse

the hot lifeguard by @aryxchse

sweater weather by @heartss4val

talk to me by @enviedear

i've got you by @triptuckers

what's he got that i don't by @ssparksflyy

distant lover by @leaawrites

bus stop by @sunniskyies

anti-curse by @kamaluhkhan

flowers by @leaawrites

stitches of fate by @duskiers

this fic (theres no title im sorry) by @aryxchse

beach talks by @aryxchase

dating percy jackson hc by @strawberries-and-summer-days

my peaceful nights belong to you by @crownofgildedlilies

percy jackson x daughter of athena! reader hcs by @hopelesslyromanticsharkshark

first date jitters by @cinemaconrad

talking to you about you by @aryxchse

☼ luke castellan (i can fix him)

i loved you in secret (smau) by @lizlovestofangirl

one year with luke castellan by @tangledinlove

"the dare" by @strawberries-and-summer-days

☼ clarisse la rue (my gf real)

if looks could kill by @rztaros

don't delete the kisses by @star-girl69

hands off by @larueluvr

music to watch girls to by @star-girl69

a helping hand by @cranberryjuice-posts

let me love you like a woman by @star-girl69

this is a life by @abbeym28

i like a challenge when the prize is you by @aphroditesmoon

gardens of babylon by @strawberryyivy

american teenager by @star-girl69

better than revenge by @star-girl69

wish you'd ask me by @aphroditesmoon

holding your hand by @lecsainz

☼ percabeth (my #1 ship)

percabeth post tartarus by @mallowsweetmiri

anything (masterlist here) by @percqbeths

[romanscool]

Loscar. 36. As a promise,,, please

#36: a kiss as a promise - loscar: sfw (kinda?)

hi anon!! thank you so much for this!! this is my first time writing loscar, and I'm such a big fan of them I don't know why it took me so long to write their pairing but. now it's done.

hope you like it as much as I do!

->

« What the fuck is that Oscar? » 

Oscar turns his head. He’s been watching a shit American show all day, and suddenly feels very self-conscious about it. Like Logan is talking about the two cringe-worthy characters talking on the TV, or Oscar actually enjoying it. He turns off the TV. « What? » He has a mouth full of overcooked pasta as he says this, so he swallows before repeating himself. « What was that? »

« Uh, » Logan walks towards Oscar, giant steps that almost make the whole building shake, and waggles his phone in front of him. Close. So close Oscar’s nose almost bumps on the screen and so close he also can’t see shit on it. « This? » 

Oscar manages to take Logan’s phone from his hands, though his fingertips were gripped so tightly on it it was a hard thing to do. There’s Twitter opened. Oscar’s account for that matter. « Yeah? What about it, Lo? »

« What about-, » Logan shakes his head and hops over the back of the couch to sit next to Oscar. He scoffs, eyes big and blue, and takes Oscar’s face in his hands, warm palms heating up Oscar’s cheeks even though it’s summer, and it’s unusually hot for England. « Oscar, what the fuck. »

Logan takes his hands off Oscar’s face, and Oscar almost whines at the loss, but he’s already been doing too much of that today watching his shit show, so he doesn’t. He settles for quiet disappointment and watches as his boyfriend fumbles to open his phone. « Fucking Face ID-, there. » Logan stops for a second, turns the screen back to Oscar, pointing a finger at it, but Oscar just shrugs. He doesn’t know what’s so weird Logan’s making a big deal out of it. 

Logan seems to understand that, so he scoffs again, and Oscar can see his dirty blonde hair fall a bit with the motion, smooth and probably salty because they’ve been at the beach yesterday. Oscar thinks he can still smell it. 

After a couple seconds of that, Logan clears his throat and starts talking again, but with the kind of voice you take the you recite something in school. It’s only after the first sentence that Oscar realizes Logan is reading his own tweet to him. « I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press release late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. » It sounds weird coming out of Logan’s mouth, all American accent dulling the words. It’s certainly not how Oscar imagined it in his head when he wrote it out. But then again, he is Australian, so. « This is wrong and I have not signed a contract with Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year. » Logan turns his face up from the screen, small spots on his jaw brightened by the light of it. « What the fuck is that, mate. » 

« Don’t call me ‘mate’. » Oscar says. It’s been a while since Logan’s called him that. « And, yeah, so what? » 

« I don’t-, » Logan sighs a quick breath, snappy and a little desperate, « Oscar, why would you not? »

« Drive for Alpine? » 

« Drive in F1. » 

Oh. Yeah. Logan doesn’t know, yet. « Ah. » Oscar says. Well, it’s more of a sound that he lets out, eyes looking everywhere except Logan’s face, eyes, fucking black eyelashes like Logan’s wearing mascara even though it’s past eight, because Oscar can’t really muster anything else than this at the moment. He’s not really allowed to, either. 

Logan chuckles but it’s pretty damn clear it’s not out of humor. He kind of looks like he’s freaking out. « Don’t ‘ah’ me, babe. What are you thinking? »

Oscar doesn’t answer. It pains him that he can’t. Legally. He would literally breach a contract he’s signed a couple days ago if he did. But. He doesn’t actually have to say it, does he?

He shifts on the sofa and takes another mouthful of pasta. The fork clings on his teeth. Logan winces at the sound.

« I’m not gonna drive for Alpine in F1 next year. » Oscar blurts out. He tries to make the subtext sound like ‘but it doesn’t mean I won’t be driving with another team’ but clearly it doesn’t because Logan just looks at him with big wide eyes. Mouth agape and eyebrows only slightly furrowed. 

« Yeah, I got that, thanks. » Logan is incredulous, Oscar realizes. He kind of understands why though. He would be too if Logan said to him he’d rejected an offer from Williams, a team that he’s been part of for two years now. Just like Oscar with Alpine. Yeah, Oscar realizes what he’s doing is perhaps a little fucked up. « What I wanna know is why. » Logan emphasizes the word, head and whole body going down with the word. 

Oscar can’t answer. « Dunno. » He registers what he’s said only after he’s said it, and yeah, that’s not helping his case at all.

« What, » Logan shifts to sit half criss-cross, body fully turned to face Oscar now. He takes the fork out of Oscar’s hand and places it back in his plate. It makes a weird cold splotch sound when it touches the pasta left in it. « the fuck. »

Oscar looks at his now most likely cold pasta then back at Logan. He wait a couple seconds. Has to count them to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like break a fucking contract. One, two. He doesn’t know what to do after, though, so he just. Plays with the tie of his shorts. 

He can’t see Logan that way. So, he also can’t let himself fall for the puppy eyes and soft, so soft expression he probably wears on his face, because of course Logan knows how to make him talk. Oscar just watches as his pointer finger goes through one loop and out of another, watches his ring finger gets chocked with the little string lace. 

They don’t talk for a moment. Oscar hears the ruffling of the couch’s material as Logan shifts again, and can feel the warmth of Logan’s palms on each of his knees. He doesn’t look up. He congratulates himself for being so resilient. 

« Fine. » Logan says, and Oscar looks up, and fuck, « Have it your way. But, » Logan runs his palm over the hair standing on the bottom of Oscar’s thigh, and Oscar shivers a little. He tells himself it’s because the night is getting a little colder by the minute and not because Logan’s blue eyes and gentle tone is turning him on. Because he knows he shouldn’t be, especially since he’s keeping such a big secret from said boyfriend. « you won’t stop me from dragging it out of you. » 

And, yeah, Oscar knew it. He’s a weak, weak man. He lets Logan kiss him softly, lets his adventurous fingers roam just a little higher than they should be on non-special nights like this and even enjoys it. Enjoys the little sound Logan’s mouth makes when his lips leave Oscar’s cheeks, and jaw, and suddenly Logan’s fingers are very close to where Oscar knows is danger zone when keeping a secret, so he stops him. 

Logan stops. Well, pulls his hands out of Oscar’s shorts and nudges them on each side of his waist instead. Lowers his mouth just under Oscar’s ear and Oscar is done for. « Wait, wait-, » He closes his eyes, involuntarily gives Logan more space to explore by tilting his head to the side. Oscar catches himself doing that, so he lifts a hand a places it on Logan’s hair, fingers threading through the fine strands of golden, and pulls just a little. « Logan. » 

« Yeah? » Logan’s voice is soft. Eyes doe-y, and the hint of a smile driving Oscar crazy. Jesus Christ. 

Oscar is a weak man. Especially when Logan’s feather-light touch on each side of his ribs is becoming just slightly heavier and his eyes a little darker. « I’ll tell you. » Logan rubs his palms over the spot they’re rested. Oscar’s voice catches in his throat. « I’m driving in F1 next year. » 

Logan’s brows furrows. His smile has turned down a little, but not so much that he looks upset. He just seems, careful. « But you rejected Alpine’s offer? »

« Yeah I did. » Oscar’s voice is still a little breathy, and he knows his cheeks are as red as when he gets out of the car after Singapore, but he doesn’t really care. Because Logan’s eyes are starting to light up. Understand.

« Fuck, are you, like-, are you? » Logan’s rambling a little, gaze locked with Oscar’s, hands starting to hold just a little too tight, « Oscar. You signed? » 

Oscar nods. He’s still a little hazed out, and still can’t quite believe he did draw his signature on a Formula One contract just a few days ago. It feels all pretty unreal. Four years ago, he was still just a high school kid with too much homework and a dream that a little part of him didn’t believe he could fulfill. « Yeah, Lo. I did, yeah. » 

Logan nips slightly at his bottom lip. « You’re not joking? » 

« No, I’m not. » Oscar starts to giggle, a little because of the adrenaline, a little because Logan is chuckling himself, a little because he’s happy. 

Logan is full on laughing now. His eyes are glossy, like he’s the one that signed to drive in F1 next year. Oscar hopes it’s the case. He doesn’t want to let go of this. « Fuck, Oscar, that’s, » He takes Oscar’s face in his palms again. Oscar can feel the little layer of sweat on them, but it’s not like he cares. Logan stills for a moment, and bursts out laughing, little droplets of tears starting to gather on each side of his eyes.

« What? » Oscar asks, laughing too, hands finding Logan’s shoulders.

« Fuck, sorry, » Logan says in between pants, cheeks streaked with wet happiness, « I’ve just. I’ve had this image of like, me cheering you from the garage. » He chuckles again, « Like a WAG or something. » 

It’s Oscar’s turn to laugh, now. Head falling forwards so quickly he almost hits his chest with his chin. And he’s not even laughing because it’s ridiculous, or because Logan would probably not be allowed in Oscar’s team garage because of his own contract with Williams and Prema, but because he can actually see it. He’d kind of like it. Logan, watching him on those big TVs. He’d like it better if he was racing him, though. 

« Wait. » Logan’s voice breaks through the laughter. « Which team is it? » 

Oscar bites the inside of his cheek. That’s the part where he’s really breaching the contract. If the team found out he’d be so fucked. So, naturally, he makes Logan- « Guess. »

« Oscar. » Logan’s voice draws out his name, but Oscar has been weak enough today. Between the shit series and whatever happened a couple minutes ago, he thinks he is allowed to tease Logan a little. Logan just rolls his eyes at him. He lets his hand fall back to Oscar’s thigh, scratching there a little. « Well, I know you’ve been in talks with Alpine, but, yeah. I think we can forget about that one. And uh, » He cocks his head to the side, deep in thought, « you’ve not told me much more. Wait, » His face turns back quickly. Oscar can see he’s got it. « Is it Mclaren? » 

Oscar’s mouth lets out a breathy « Yeah. » before Oscar can think it through. He’s done it. 

Logan’s eyes widen. His smile too. « Oscar. » 

« I know. » Oscar’s voice is a little high pitched. He shifts his legs again, because the left one is starting to cramp a bit, but it just tingles painfully after that. Logan’s fingers hop from Oscar’s thighs to his fingers. 

After a few giggles, they settle in a quiet atmosphere for a moment. It’s gentle. Soft. Warm. It’s everything it always is with Logan. It’s everything Oscar’s ever wanted.

But then, Oscar can see Logan wants to say something. His mouth pouts a little on the side, and his chest takes big breaths that he doesn’t usually take, and then there it is, «  Nothing’s gonna change, though, right? »

And yeah, Oscar was scared of that, too. Was. He isn’t anymore. He knows they’re stronger than that. « Of course, Lo. » 

His voice is a little scratchy. Even Oscar can hear it. A little crack at the end, on Logan’s nickname. Because Oscar knows how this works. He’s seen it too many times to ignore it. The world is no longer mysterious, in that way. 

But, he likes to think nothing will ever change. Is that such a bad thing?

Logan’s finger catches on Oscar’s splintered nail. « You promise? »

Oscar’s heart pulls at the words. « Yeah, I promise. » Logan’s eyes come up again. The blue is glowing a little yellow from the kitchen light. He looks as beautiful as he always does. That will never change, Oscar thinks. « I promise. » 

Oscar’s palms find Logan’s shoulders again, and he just has to kiss him. Just to prove him how much he means it. He knows his tongue probably still tastes like overcooked pasta but Logan's taste like the iced latte he's had as a snack. Oscar presses his lips to Logan’s and silently prays they’ll be able to do this for the rest of their life. 

again, thank you so much for requesting this!! I've allowed myself to mix in a little #10: to get them to talk, so yeah, it's been a fun journey

you can find the rest of this little series on ao3!

don't hesitate to ask me for more kiss/non kiss prompts, I always appreciate writing those,,,

lots of love <33

[enjoythesilentworld]

Simon's Month - Soulmates

day 25 @youngroyals-events getting close to the end...

Simon, curled up and heartbroken in the backseat of Sara’s car, realizes some things.

Or, Simon sees his and Wille’s lives laid out across the universe.

read below or on ao3 (T, 600)

He can barely breathe. 

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The words still ring clear in his head, Wille’s sad eyes forever burned into his memory. 

Simon knows it was the right decision. For the first time in his life, he knows that he’d made the right decision for himself. They never would’ve worked long term, they were barely working then. No matter what Wille said, he could’ve never been both Crown Prince and Simon’s boyfriend. 

But, then, why does it feel like Simon’s heart has been ripped out of his chest? Like it’s been left there, slowly bleeding out on the gravel steps of Hillerska. Or, perhaps, it was still lying in Wille’s bed in the palace, staining his bed sheets a deep crimson, wet blood mixing with the many wet tears they’d shed that awful night. 

That was meant to be the end. One final bit of closure. Simon said his peace, had told Wille it wasn’t him but the monarchy that was the problem, and yet. Here he is, sitting in the backseat of Sara’s new car, driving away from the love of his life, leaving him behind, along with the school that had ripped them to shreds, and he feels like he’s dying. 

He squeezes his eyes shut against the tears and tries to remember how it feels to bring air into his lungs. How does that work, again? It was always so easy to breathe around Wille, even if things had been bad sometimes. 

With his palms pressed into his eyes, the brightness of the cheery summer day dims to black behind his eyelids. He tries to calm himself, tries to remember that this was the right decision and that if he never saw Wille again, that would be for the better. For both of them. Wouldn’t it?

Through the darkness, small little shapes begin to swirl, faded and blurry like a distant memory. 

Two shapes, two outlines. A car. Two hands interlaced. A bright, happy sun filtering through impossibly green trees. 

Two forms holding each other. Wille. Wille, holding Simon.

Like a wave wiping clean the sand of a beach, the colors fade. Then, they return, slightly different. 

Wille is still there. That is Wille, isn’t it? He looks different, somehow. Older, more relaxed, but tentative. He smiles shyly at Simon over a small table, scattered with half empty coffee cups and shredded straw wrappers, and reaches out to take his hand. 

Another wave, another moment of darkness. Then, Wille again. They’re walking down a beach somewhere, unfamiliar to Simon. Wille is saying something, but the words don’t reach Simon’s ears. The feeling from them, he feels. It’s warmth and appreciation, trust and love. 

Another. Light, Wille— No, Wilhelm, in lavish robes and a crown on his head, a stern look on his face, though Simon can see the exhaustion and terror hidden underneath. Simon sits in the crowd. Their eyes meet, and Simon gives him a nod and a small smile, and Wille returns the smile.  

Wave, dark. Light, Wille. A sky of stars, the mesh roof of a tent, Wille pressed against his side. They’ve finally made it to a camping trip of their own, no fights and no sharing a tents. Now, they share a sleeping bag and stare up at the stars together, whispering secrets and stories, baring their souls under the night sky. 

The next wave comes, and recedes, and Simon opens his eyes. Light, real light, but no Wille. No more images, no glimpses at what could have been, what was in another life, what may be in this one. Except, it wouldn’t, not in this life, because Simon walked away, and rightly so. 

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like Simon left a piece of himself behind. 

His hands fall to his lap. He closes his eyes again. Wave, dark—

“Simon!”

For a second time, his eyes shoot open. 

“Simon!”

He turns, looks over his shoulder out the back window of the car. Light. Wille. 

Wille.

Simon turns back to the front again, stunned. Wave, dark, light—

“Simon!”

Wille.

[olpie]

Chapter 1

Maggie finds some notes in Beth's cell.

Read it here.

[ervotica]

i feel like art would have a babbling problem. like, he can’t stfu the closer he gets to cumming, so you have fun finding different ways to occupy his mouth while you suck him off or ride him. first instinct is sitting on his face or shoving your fingers in his mouth

// MDNI; art donaldson x reader

warnings; smut, oral (m receiving), praise, fluffy af ending, light dom/sub undertones, sub!art, art definitely has a praise kink i don’t make the rules 🫡

Art has always been loud— loud on the court, grunting and groaning as he plays, loud when he’s kissing you, breathy whines and gasps that you swallow greedily with your own mouth.

But most importantly, he’s loud in bed.

You always know when he’s about to cum; those corded thighs tighten around your head, back arching from the bed. His lips- rubied and swollen from your greedy mouth against his own- part around a moan, a drawn out whine, and an outright shout when your tongue laves across the tip of his weeping cock, drooling and flushed from your attention.

“Baby, baby, please,” he babbles. “Need it so bad. Gonna fuckin’ cum, please, baby.”

One of your manicured hands drags its way up his glistening chest, slick with sweat and littered with dark marks from your hungry teeth. He moans again, and you part his lips with a gentle thumb, pressing two digits flat against his tongue; he takes them greedily, suckling against the curve of your knuckles as you work him over with your other hand. You resist the urge to roll your eyes— always so obedient.

“Good boy,” you giggle. “Pretty baby.” He whines. You soothe him with a kiss to the tip of his cock.

His hips sporadically jerk as you seal your lips over him, sinking downward until the heavy length of him is settled snugly in your mouth. His chest stutters, a bare leg twining under your arm and round your waist until his heel presses into the base of your spine.

You know he’s cumming before he does.

His breath seizes, missing a beat. The muscles in his thighs tighten as he grinds further upwards into your warm mouth, and then he’s spilling into you with a sob.

His mouth is a wet throbbing around your knuckles, tips of your fingers still pressed to the dip of his tongue. You coast your thumb over the underside of his chin, pressing to the hollow of his throat— he preens under the attention.

“Shh, shh,” you coax. He bends at the waist, hooking a lithe hand under each of your armpits, and you’re dragged up and over his front until you’re nose to nose.

“Baby,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek against your own. “Love you.”

“Love you too, pretty baby,” you coo. He’s almost limp underneath your weight, eyes half lidded and crinkling at the corners. “Can I have a kiss?”

He melts.

“You can have anything you want. C’mere.”

[writeblrfantasy]

around six years ago, i started writing seriously for the first time. it was fanfiction. (glee fanfiction if you're curious.) i wouldn't write something original for the first time for another year.

i loved writing fanfiction--i put my whole unashamed heart into it, i didn't even think about whether it was good or not, because i was having a blast. i wrote for many different fandoms, i wrote one (short) fanfic a day during december based on one word prompts, and i would send them to my friend each night--a routine which got me through a very hard week of my life. i wrote buckets and buckets of fanfiction.

and then, i'm not sure when and why that changed--i read and still do read something on ao3 almost every night for dozens and dozens of fandoms, after all. but the more i wrote original books, i stopped writing fanfiction, and over the years, writing fanfiction seemed like an impossible task.

i tried a few times, i wrote a customized fic for my bestie's birthday, but i could never get far usually. it felt alien and intrusive to try and write someone else's characters. it would always end in shame and this feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong.

i don't have any of those early fanfictions from six years ago because i deleted them, convinced they were hot garbage (and they were, but i still would've liked to have them!)

i continued to write originally, still reading fanfiction almost every night and participating in fandom in other ways. and then in late 2021, i wrote and finished a good fic as a herculean labor of love. in spring of 22, it took me an incredible effort, but i took one of my old surviving fanfics and edited it to new standards, and then encouraged by my victory, i wrote 2 more fics and started a bunch of others.

i made an ao3 account and posted these all, and was encouraged like never before by the comments i received, the love i had never received because i'd never posted my fanfics before. slowly, the shame wore off. i could write fanfiction again. it became something i could do while sitting on my phone in a waiting room having an anxiety attack, something to do before i went to bed, something i could do when a fic i wanted didn't exist--i could finally just write it!

and now, we come to this year. in 23 so far, i've written and posted 11 fanfics adding up to 100,805 words in total, in two fandoms, with several fanfic wips in the works. two weeks ago i wrote, without meaning to, 7k of a fic in one day to finish it, a week after finishing the source material. i'm still hesitant to share snippets of fics with friends not in those fandoms, but i did in this case and was told by a friend that it was some of my best writing ever--original and fanfic combined. period.

in january when i watched my favorite movie too many times to get anything more out of it, i turned to fanfiction, where i had a fic i mentioned was inspired by my favorite fic in the tiny ass fandom, which the creator then saw and was flattered by, and continued to read all my fics in that fandom!

this would turn into a 7 part series which i would post once a week, whipping up 5k minimum fics in a matter of days. i was shameless. i was carefree. i was living for the familiar usernames in my comments, and the serotonin of pushing that "new post" button. i was having fun.

in moments where i would wonder if the fic i was writing was cringe, if anyone would like it if i posted it, i reminded myself that i read fic every night. fic is often the first place i turn after finishing a source material, and what i look forward to while consuming that material. if everyone who thought like me about their fics didn't post, i would be without fanfics to get me through my fandom experience, and i would hate that. so i kept writing and posting.

now: my relationship with writing fanfiction has never been healthier. i am better than where i was at six years ago, because my overall writing skills have improved about 1000%, and because i'm posting now. writing fanfiction now often provides me a break from the stress and complexity of writing original novels, and it's a lovely wind down bedtime activity.

so, i suppose if there's a takeaway from this post, it's that fan content creators, no matter what you create, and no matter how small the fandom you're creating for, even if you're the first work in your fandom, keep creating. what you're doing is real and worthy and just as important as original content, and keeps the heart of fandom alive. i am so happy i repaired my relationship with writing fanfic, and it's made me happier this year than i thought possible, due in large part to the incredible commenting communities in fandom. i wish the same for all of you <3

[marvelousbuckley]

Dear love of my life (a BuckTommy fanfic)

Hello everybody

With all that is happening I feel like we deserve fluff and cute things and happiness and so I decided to write..... letters!

Tommy had always loved to write letters, love letters to be exact. Of course he never sent any of them. But it is always great to write them anyway. Especially when they are about Evan Buckley.

You can find Dear Love of my Life on AO3.

Or, you can read the first letter right here!

-----

My dear Evan,

I am glad that you won’t ever be able to read this letter. You would think it’s a weird thing to do and you would be right. You don’t even know me, not really. Who write letters for people they just met? Who even write letters in 2024?

But you see Evan, my mom always told me that words were powerful. She sent me so many letters over the years and they helped me go through everything. Words keep helping me now that she’s gone. I had never written to anyone but her before today and yet, this feels so natural. Like my pen was meant to bleed for you. Like I was meant to be charmed by you.

It’s stupid that I can’t stop thinking about your smile, that I replay the memory of you asking a thousand questions about shoppers and Harbor and me. Not many people ask about me. It’s also stupid that I can’t stop feeling guilty of leaving you after the tour. Embarrassment is a feeling I worked hard to get rid of and yet it’s coming back again. That, and regrets. I would have loved going out for a beer with you, I hope you know that.

The flight was great, and I had a good time with Eddie. He’s a cool guy, I understand why you all feels like a family. I’m a little bit jealous that he’s able to see your smile practically every day and I can’t. It is a great smile you have, and I might dream about it for a long time.

I spent the match thinking about you, wondering what you were up to. Did you go to the bar by yourself? Did you bring someone else? Should I feel jealous? Probably not, a part of me knows that you were just being polite.

Another part of me can’t stop thinking about you. About all the questions I have for you and all the things I want to teach you. It’s a dangerous game that is playing my mind but tonight I don’t care. Nobody but this paper will witness the longing that I can taste in my mouth. It’s like strawberry and happiness. My only wish is to be able to see your face again. Maybe I should text you.

I look at my hand and I laugh at myself. The perfect romantic cliché, don’t you think? You make me feel like I’m seventeen again. It is a great gift, thank you for it.

With all the feelings that I can’t name yet,

Tommy.

[blakelysco-pilot]

23 for both of your pairings please!

Thank you for requesting this, sweet nonnie, and for being so patient while I got this done.

prompt from this list

18+ under the cut; minors DNI

Ev & Val

23. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

Breaths were harsh; deep inhales and sharp exhales, the nose of Just A Snappin fogged up as Val clung to Everett. Working her through her second, no, third orgasm of the night, he couldn’t help but admire the way she looked in the dim light, the moon giving just enough cover for him to see her, to appreciate her body laid out for him. His jacket was balled up under her head, her dark curls spilling over the green fabric as she gripped it with one hand, the other secured behind his neck. 

“I…Ev, I can’t…”

“Shh, you’re okay, I’m right here baby.”

He slowed his hips, his hands sliding up behind her back until he found enough leverage to pull her up, sitting her in his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Her chest pressed against his he could feel her heart hammering against her ribs as she came down from her high. 

“Relax, I’ve got you.” He soothed. 

“Hmm, okay…” 

It took him a moment to realize she was crying, panic suddenly filling his chest at the thought of possibly hurting her.  Carefully, he tipped her face up from his shoulder, and his heart almost shattered at the sight of the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, her red lips stretched into a smile. 

“Honey…”

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” A laugh punched from her chest, shaking her head vigorously. “It’s just, god, I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Neither have I…” He gently smoothed her hair back, hand cupping her jaw as he guided her mouth to his. “You’re it for me, Val.”

“Ev…”

“Want this with you forever, if you’ll have me.”

“Are you proposing?” She raised an eyebrow, fixing him with a look. 

“No, not yet. Just, giving you a heads up.” He grinned, shifting her in his lap, momentarily forgetting he was still buried inside of her. 

“Oh!” Her gasp filled the plane, and he grinned devilishly. 

“Think you can give me one more?”

“Oh baby, She kissed him deeply. “I can give you forever.”

Rosie & Jo

23. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

The room is suddenly entirely too warm, and he’s not sure when it started, but he can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. Why is he so nervous? He served two tours, flew 52 missions, and made it out of Russia alive; this should not scare him and yet… Yet, it’s having Jo so close to where he’s dreamed of having her that’s causing his head to spin as if he had been drinking all night. Suddenly he was home and everything they had promised each other while he was gone was coming true. He had prepared for this in words, and in theory, for years it had been a romance between the pages. Now, the pages were gone. 

When they had gone out that night, they both knew where they had wanted the evening to go; now that he was down to his boxers, and she was standing in front of him in just her nightgown, the reality of it had him worrying. And he couldn’t figure out why. 

“Robbie?” Her voice sounded far away, but he knew she was close because he could feel her hands in his, her thumbs drawing gentle circles against his palms. 

“Hmm, I’m right here…”

“I know you’re here, honey, but you’re white as a sheet.”

“I am?”

“Yes, do you feel alright?”

“Yea, I feel alright, I promise.”

Her right hand slipped from his grasp and came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently rubbing back and forth. Soothing him into a state of relaxation, and causing him to momentarily forget what had his head so foggy in the first place. He was responsible for making sure she enjoyed tonight, that she felt good, and most importantly that he didn’t hurt her. 

“Robbie, honey, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yea, I just… no, I’m fine.”

“Come here,” gently, she tugged him to the bed, sitting down on the edge, she waited for hin to take a seat next to her. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“Aren’t you nervous?” He all but blurted out. 

“Of course I’m nervous!”

“Then how are you so calm?”

“Because I’m with you, and I trust you.”

“You trust me not to hurt you?”

“Robbie, I trust you with my life,” Jo smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know you would never intentionally hurt me. Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Yes…” He sighed. 

Nodding, Jo stood from the bed and moved to stand in front of him. Taking his hands in hers, she pulled him up to his feet before wrapping him in her arms and fitting her lips over his. Her fingers carded through his mused curls, the pomade all but gone, until she reached the nape of his neck. Softly, she pulled back, her forehead resting against his as she caught her breath, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. 

Jo let her lips trail softly from his lips, up and across his cheek, until she reached his ear. Nipping at his earlobe gently, with a soft tug to the pliant flesh, she chose her next words carefully. She hoped that she could convey the message to him, so that he knew that tonight they would take care of each other. 

“Relax,” she whispered. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me. We’ll figure this out together.”

“Together…” Rosie smiled.