#feel free to continue - or not - whatever you like

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐞.𝐦.

This piece contains 18+ content.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader [friends → lovers]

Summary Eddie holds good on his promise to take you out on a date, and as the night comes to a close, you realize you’re not ready to say goodbye [fluff, smut, 4.3k].

A/N This is the long-awaited continuation of come whatever may. You can read that first if you'd like, but enough context will be provided here. Spoiler alert: the sex is very soft, teasy, and desperate because they’re in l-o-v-e. Haven't written smut in nearly two years, but I evoked the muses of times past—and thus!...

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summer is long gone, but when you open the door to Eddie holding flowers, the warmth that rises to your cheeks makes it feel nearer than ever. It’s a vibrant bouquet composed of white roses, red lilies, baby’s breath, and leafy foliage. The wrapper crinkles as he extends them to you with an easy smile and soft hello. Your eyes flick back up to his after admiring the delicate blooms. 

There’s a healthy flush to his cheeks, his curls neat and defined. The black leather jacket he’s wearing clings to his slender frame with a polished edge. Under the weight of your gaze, he huffs out a chuckle that reminds you you’re still on earth. 

“Gonna let me in, sweetheart?” Charm drips from his voice and shimmers within his chocolate eyes. 

Nodding, you shuffle backwards, allowing him to enter and push the door shut behind himself. As he steps further inside, you can feel his gaze sweeping over your outfit. An olive-green corduroy dress layered over a beige turtleneck that’s soft against your skin. His smile grows, glinting bright enough for anyone to believe he just won the Lotto when, really, it’s just the pretty sight of you holding the flowers he bought. 

“These are beautiful.” You raise the bouquet, but Eddie’s eyes remain on you. Seeking refuge from his gaze, you tuck your nose down to inhale the sweet fragrance of the petals. “They smell amazing too.” 

“That’s all you, sweetheart.” 

You get shy when his eyes meet yours. “You like my outfit and everything?” 

Eddie swallows back a degree of his earnestness so he doesn’t sound too far gone. “Of course I do, are you kidding me?” 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Robin descends the staircase with a bag slung over her shoulder like she’s prepared to leave, hair tied up in a messy bun. Given your parents were away in Indianapolis for the weekend, you’d asked her to come over and help you get ready so you wouldn’t be alone. 

Eddie’s eyes flick to her, clearing his throat. “Did you help her pick this out, Buckley?” 

“Obviously,” she smirks. “Nice hair.” 

“It is really nice,” you agree with a soft smile. Eddie lifts a passive shoulder, chest fluttering. 

“Rob, do you think you could…” she takes the bouquet without you having to ask. The two of you had shuffled through the attic and dug out a vase earlier that afternoon. 

Eddie had promised this date, along with flowers, a week ago when you slipped away from Steve’s party to be alone. That night, he’d kissed you in the heat of the moment but wanted to backtrack and do things right. You deserved that much. 

The time you’ve been looking forward to has finally come. 

With your hands now free, the only thing you can think to do is wrap your arms around Eddie. The world goes still as he hugs you back, nerves quelling beneath your skin. For a moment, you merely enjoy the warmth of the same arms you’ve been wrapped in countless times before. With your head tucked into his chest, enveloped by the faint scent of his cologne, you release all the worries that ride on the sweeping coattails of change. For a moment, he’s just Eddie, your best friend. 

When you pull away, he leans in, tilting his head with that familiar, boyish curiosity. “You alright?” he asks quietly, searching your gaze.

You nod, a smile breaking through. He takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, “Just checkin’.” 

Robin soon walks back into the foyer. “I put the flowers in a vase for you,” she announces, taking her hair down and shaking it out. “Hate to admit it, but you two are actually cute. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey,” Eddie lifts his hands, laughing. “Little victories.” 

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder with a content sigh. “Welp, I’m about to go pester Harrington at Family Video.” She turns to Eddie, playfully narrowing her eyes. “You better treat her right, ‘cause best believe I’ll be hearing all about this date.” 

When she slips out the door, Eddie smiles at you in silent assurance. 

●・○・●・○・●

The sun hasn’t quite begun to set, but orange and pink faintly blend on the horizon. A cool fall breeze flows in through the cracked windows as the radio plays softly. Eddie had asked his Uncle Wayne to borrow his pickup truck because it’d be more romantic than his bulky van. You can’t say whether he was right, only that you’re grateful to be riding shotgun with him—headed to an unknown destination, no less. 

You’d already guessed through a list of places that Eddie denied with amusement. Sighing, you look out the window to people bustling about, walking dogs and strolling out of shops. You’re coming out of the more commercial side of town, nearing Lover’s Lake and the state park.  

“I give up,” you sigh. 

Eddie chuckles, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, ignorant to his warming effect on you. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” That makes you peer over at him in interest. “If I had to guess, I’d say not a lot of people have had the chance to try it out yet.” 

That’s a dead giveaway. Your mouth falls open in surprise. “That new place along the lake—Stillwater Grill?” The twitch of Eddie’s lips is telling. “No way!” The excitement in your voice makes his chest tighten.

Stillwater was supposed to be good, from what you’d heard. A slightly elevated dining experience minus the formalities and steep pricing of a restaurant like Enzo’s. Where classic American favorites embrace small-town charm, according to the paper. 

Upon your arrival, the parking lot houses a pretty decent number of cars. Lover’s Lake provides a serene backdrop that catches the evening light. Couples stand outside admiring the view. Eddie opens your door and helps you out of the truck like a proper gentleman. You happily tuck yourself into him as you walk inside. 

When you were younger, you often wondered what love would be like. Books and the movies always presented countless possibilities, but you always believed it’d be special for you. So different that nothing else would be able to compare—perhaps, selfishly. One thing for sure, you never could’ve dreamed up someone like Eddie. 

As he sits across from you under the dim glow of the lights, laughter and chatter filling the air, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to put all this into words. Belly full, you realize what you’ve enjoyed even more than the food and cozy, rustic atmosphere was is company. 

Eddie has an inexplicably magnetic way. There was a magic in getting him all to yourself. In relishing the lovely sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was always on the verge of laughter. The passion he exuded made it seem like the way he loved a given thing was biblical. He could talk the ear off a cornfield if he wanted but knew instinctively when to listen. Even your passing remarks seemed to bear some semblance of importance to him.  

Conversing with him had always been easy, but without other people vying for his attention, you were truly able to admire the boy before you. To embrace the deepening attraction. 

As you wait for the waiter to bring the tab, you don’t realize you’ve grown silent and begun blinking at him with the fondest eyes. 

●・○・●・○・●

The wooden stairs of your front porch creak under both your footsteps as you climb them, stopping in front of your front door as the night settles around you. Moths flutter around the lanterns framing the door, crickets chirp in the lawn. Eddie kicks at a dead leaf, combing through a sea of thoughts in search of the right words. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says. You wait for him to continue. His doe eyes search yours for the briefest moment, seeing right through you it seems. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna be hard for me to quit you.” 

Your mouth opens a couple times in a mix of giddiness and surprise. “Yeah,” you finally breathe. “Yeah, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” 

Smiling, he steps forward to capture your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that you feel everywhere. It manages to outshine the first, more desperate, kiss you’d shared a week prior. This one is steady and sure, like a promise sealed with a prim bow. When he pulls away to look into your eyes, you shyly duck your head. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, lifting your chin. 

He doesn’t want to go, instead wishing he could stall and stay right here with you. He’s parted ways with you hundreds of times before, but now he can’t seem to figure out how he ever did. That’s how he knows he’s in trouble. The best kind. 

“I’ll pick up,” you promise. 

He stands at your door until you see yourself inside. It’s quiet without him. Your eyes land on the flowers he got you, now in a vase in the living room thanks to Robin. Too quiet. The sound of your front door reopening stops Eddie in his tracks. He turns around with a slight furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” he calls, mindful of his volume. 

You make a small motion for him to come back to you. He listens in a heartbeat. 

There’s a weighted look in his eyes beneath the playfulness, “Miss me already?” 

“No,” you lie. 

●・○・●・○・●

It’s a wonder how you manage to make it feel like there’s a pleasant fire kindling within him. What started out as yet another easy conversation, has turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as the TV drones in the background.

Everything feels heightened now. The brush of your lips against his, your fingers gently scratching at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie’s lips part in a soft, shuddering breath when you roll your hips over him. 

“Hold on a second, sweetheart.” His eyebrows are pinched as he pulls back from the kiss, hands stilling you. 

You blink down at him all owl-like. “Did I do something?” you murmur, purposely shifting over him again.

He restrains from canting his hips upwards. There’s a softness to his gaze even though his cheeks are flushed hot. 

“If getting me worked up counts. You’re real good at that.” His shamelessness is dizzying. “Just don’t wanna get ahead of myself.” It’s a subtle invitation, a chance for you to call things off in case you aren’t on the same page. 

But you can feel warmth pooling low in your belly. “What else am I good at?” 

He knows you’re game then. For whatever this is, whatever it’s bound to become. 

“Trying to pretend I’m not driving you crazy too.” He chuckles when you duck to hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

There’s a gentleness to the way Eddie’s hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, meeting the delicate skin of your inner thigh. 

“Eddie,” you murmur, lifting from his neck as his fingers continue their trail upwards.

“Hmm?” He pauses, thumb stroking your skin in soft circles. 

“Can we go to my room?” A slight shiver runs through you as his fingers move to trace along the crease of your thigh.

“Your call, sweetheart.” 

Before he withdraws his hand, he snaps the waistband of your panties and grins when you straighten.  

●・○・●・○・●

The lamp on your nightstand casts everything in a dim, warm glow. Eddie shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your desk chair, eyes roving over the notebooks and pens strewn about. The sight of his tattooed arms makes you move to kiss him again, letting your lips wander to the corner of his mouth and his chin in a trail of warmth. He throbs in his jeans when you slip your fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and curl them into his stomach. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from your lips and he steps back enough to pull the fabric over his head in one swift movement, muscles rippling as the dark ink on his torso is revealed. With newly disheveled hair, he kisses you backward onto the bed, crawling over top of you as you settle into the mattress with a pleased hum. 

Having the upper hand allows him to press hot kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as you huff out sighs and caress his milky skin with buzzing fingertips. Nothing about his movements is rushed, each press of his lips intentional enough to believe he'd had them planned for years.

Eddie didn’t know your body yet, not in the way he’d like to. But he was reading it in real-time. Cataloging every writhe and hitch of your breath so he knew where to return. The obsessive part of his brain often gets on his nerves, but he’s grateful for it now. Grateful he wants to see every move and sound you can make. There’s an artistry to it, a musicality. 

An inkling of panic arises when he begins to suckle on the side of your neck as you offer it. Not because he’s being rough, but because it’s overwhelming enough to want to crawl out of your skin. A soft whimper rises up your throat as your hands find his flexed biceps, digging in. You’re unsure of whether to pull him closer or push him away. 

Eddie rises from your neck on his own accord, running a finger over the spot. “You like it when I kiss you here, huh?” There’s a slow, honeyed quality to his voice. 

When you offer a helpless nod, he leans back down again, and you shudder as his mouth laves over the same sensitive area a little ways beneath your ear. Exasperated, you blindly paw for the waistband of his jeans, fingers shaky as you fiddle with his belt buckle.

Feeling your struggle, Eddie moves to press a final kiss to your throat before pulling away from your neck. 

“Stupid thing,” you pant, pouting up at him for help. 

Chuckling, Eddie reaches down with one hand to undo it with ease. Then, watches with blown pupils as you hurry to undo the button and zipper. He slips off the bed as smoothly as he can to remove his pants, black boxers tented and straining. A spark of heat surges through you as you press your thighs together at the sight. 

No sooner is he crawling back to help you out of your clothes. The lacy underwear set you’re wearing beneath is a pretty shade of baby blue, and Eddie can’t help but palm himself. 

“Jesus,” he sounds awed and devastated at the same time. “You’re so gorgeous...” 

Before he’s even had time to process, you take off your bra, baring your chest for him to see. Your nipples pebble with the new exposure and all of two seconds pass before he’s surging forward, sending you tumbling back to the mattress in a breath of startled laughter he swallows down like a lifeline. 

You gasp into his mouth, back arching, as he cups one of your breasts, circling and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You’re barely kissing him back anymore, but he continues licking into your mouth as your lips part around shallow exhales. 

That’s when the phone begins to ring. Eddie sits back on his haunches despite your attempt to stop him. 

“Might be important.” His voice is rough. 

“They can leave a message.” 

He smirks, dragging a hand through his hair. “You sure?”

Lifting your leg, you run a careful foot over the swell of his boxers. He twitches at the contact. 

“You’re all I care about,” you murmur. “Need you, E.” There’s a desperate edge to your voice that draws him right back in.

“You’ve got me.” He runs a lone finger down the front of your panties. “Can I take these off?” You’re only half listening to his words, nodding to whatever. “Lift up for me.” The muscles of your thighs tremble as you do. 

Tossing your panties aside, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your belly button. Then another one just beneath it. A surprised sound rises up your throat when he gently spreads you open to kiss that swollen, sensitive part of you that’s pulsing with need.  

“Oh, gosh—” you stutter out, hands threading into his hair.

“Need me right here?” His voice is laced with a smile, and you can’t help a breathy laugh. Prideful warmth ignites in his chest. “Or do you need me somewhere else?” He trails playful, ticklish nips along your inner thighs, making you squirm. 

“Eddie, please…” 

He’s gracious enough to begin rubbing your clit in precise, measured circles, intently studying the pretty scrunch of your face.

“Firmer,” you instruct breathily, “—just like that, just like that.” Your legs spread wider instinctively, arching when he collects your slick with a slow, heavy finger. 

You’re already so on edge from his previous attention that it only takes a few moments before you ascend into bliss, muscles growing taut as your mouth falls agape. The strong, rhythmic pulses serve as your only touchpoint to reality along with Eddie’s tender caress at your slick, fluttering entrance. One he didn’t even have the chance to breach. 

“Look at you…” he says, voice thick. “Made it easy for me.” He laughs a little, more turned on than anything. 

“It’s not funny,” you halfheartedly assert, cheeks prickling. 

“No,” Eddie agrees. “Just super-duper hot.” 

As he raises up, you realize his other hand is tucked into his boxers, lazily stroking himself. A second wave of desire builds within you, overlapping the remnants of the first and any sense of embarrassment that had begun to kindle. It’s spurred by the deep flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes are soaking you in like he’s just witnessed the most beautiful unraveling. 

Under your hazy, watchful gaze, he scrambles off the bed. Without warning, he shoves his boxers down, kicking them from around his ankles. His arousal impressively springs up towards his stomach. You bite your lip at the rosy, leaking tip, the gorgeous vein snaking prominently along the underside. 

Eddie peeks over at you with a dazed quirk of his lips before retrieving his wallet from his jacket. He pulls out a square foil packet and promptly rips it open with his teeth. 

Upon crawling back into the bed, he isn’t expecting you to take his cock in a loose hold, stroking upwards from the curly hair at the base to circle your thumb around the tip. There’s a pleasant tug low in his gut as he kicks up in your palm. 

“Sweetheart…” His voice is soft, nearly a plea. You let your hand glide back down, this time venturing lower to cradle the soft weight hanging beneath. He nearly buckles forward. “What're you doing to me?” he rasps. 

“Nothing,” you murmur innocently, wetting your hand and giving him a few more easy strokes, enjoying the warm, veiny feel of him before withdrawing your touch. 

He curses under his breath as he rolls the condom down, his gaze never leaving you as you reposition yourself to take him. 

“Eager beaver,” you lilt as he crowds over you. 

“Yeah,” he exhales. “I am.” 

He lines up at your entrance, tip catching as he collects your slick with a wavering breath.  

You open your legs even wider. “Want you,” you murmur, breathy and sweet. 

The expression on his face is like something from a painting, raw and rapturous as he eases into your encompassing warmth. He takes it slow, giving you time to relax around him as you breathe through the dull ache of welcoming him in. A low, guttural sound escapes him once he’s buried all the way. 

Your chests brush. Tears prick in your eyes at the closeness, the feeling of being filled so completely. 

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, lips clumsy against your chin. “Like I made you up in my head.” 

He begins moving, slowly drawing back only to push back in. A steady rhythm finds him as your mouth falls open, legs hooking around his thighs. The muscles of his back ripple with his effort, and you chart every tense line with your fingertips. 

With a low groan, he makes a minor adjustment to better reach that spongy spot within you. You arch into him with a whimper, breath catching in your throat. 

“There she is,” he whispers, reaching between your bodies to rub firm, steady circles against your clit. 

“Oh, god…” It sounds like you’re in pain even though you’re the furthest thing from it. When you close your eyes, tears stream down your face in twin streaks, surprising both of you. Eddie tenderly wipes them away, gaze soft. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “It’s just me, angel.”

Except, Eddie isn't just anything. You’ve never felt so close to someone, so in tune, and somehow, it’s Eddie—sweet, goofy, wild-haired Eddie—who knew exactly what you needed. He picks up the pace as you arch and writhe beneath him, body yielding without question.

“You feel so good,” you whimper, clenching around him. 

His groan reverberates against your neck as his hips jerk sloppily, “Can’t say stuff like that…” Those words only make you tighten around him again.

The dazed way he mouths at your shoulder lets you know he’s clinging onto composure. You’re too warm, too everything—snug, and soft, and beautiful. He’s not ready for this feeling to end. This heady, binding haze of pleasure.  

“Eddie,” you breathe softly. “Wanna ride you…” 

Your plea nearly finishes him off. “Yeah?” he croaks.

You nod, whimpering. He barely withstands the feeling of slipping from within you. Shifting onto his back allows him a moment of reprieve, but he nearly loses himself when you straddle him, sinking back down with a circle of your hips. 

You brace your hands on his ribcage, steadily rocking on top of him as your head tips back. Sweat glistens in the divot of his sternum as he attempts to move in time with you. When you speed up, he closes his eyes to calm himself down. 

“Hey…where’d you go?” You croon, grazing your nails from his chest to his quivering stomach, relishing the feeling of his warm, dewy skin beneath your fingertips.

The wrecked way he forces his eyes back open almost makes you fall apart. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as a greater sense of urgency awakens between you. It’s in the way you speed up, both eager, desperate, chasing. He memorizes the way your body moves over top of his, the bouncy sway of your chest. 

“You look so pretty taking me like this,” he shudders. “My pretty girl.” 

“Eddie…” you coo, high and breathy. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he chokes out. “Wanna feel you come around me so bad.” He’s babbling now, “Shit, I’m not gonna last. I can’t take it anymore, angel...I can’t—” 

The earnest crack of his voice sends you tumbling over the edge, vision spotting. Pleasure radiates throughout every fiber of your being as your walls contract around him. He stills your hips with a firm hold, bucking upwards and coming undone in surging waves. You slide your hands down his abdomen to feel him flex with each strong jolt that wracks him. 

As your body begins to relax, you blink down at him, lips parted as you catch your breath. Eddie throws an arm over his face as he sucks in air, neck and chest flushed pink. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

Both of you shudder as you ease off him. The pleasant ache of loss pulses between your legs as you partially lay down on top of him, hooking a leg over his waist. He traces along your thigh in light, soothing passes. You can feel his chest rising and falling. 

“You okay?” he eventually murmurs.

You nod, kissing his shoulder. “You?”

“I think so,” he chuckles weakly. 

●・○・●・○・●

The afterglow brings a quiet stillness to the air. Clean and beneath the sheets, you study Eddie’s long lashes, his nose, his plush lips. He eventually cracks a self-conscious smile.  

“What?” he questions. You shake your head because you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look like he believes you. “C’mon...” 

So, you think of something, a small truth you’re willing to give him, “I just really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

He hums, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. “What was your favorite part?” 

“Probably the food at Stillwater,” you say, though your fingertips are tracing along his jaw, then down his neck, trailing to his waistline to lightly brush between his hip bones as he squirms. “Best I’ve ever had,” you lilt. 

Eddie breaks into a flustered laugh, leaning over to sleepily kiss the coy smile from your lips. 

“But really, though,” you say afterward. “Thanks for tonight. Never met a guy quite like you.” 

Eddie realizes then that he’d better get a head start on counting his lucky stars. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think.

PART ONE

MORE

[inthelittlewood]

Dude you're so good at mixing with groups. I know all of you Life Series guys are friends, but every episode you rock up to different groups, you hop into a team's dynamic, you make everyone laugh and smile, and then you're bounding off to the next adventure. Your interactions never feel awkward even if it's with people you don't consistently talk to. It just continues to prove that you're a really delightful guy!!!

(This also applies to Rats and VH and everything btw, Wild Life is just on the mind right now since it's Saturday!)

That's kind of you to say. I'm definitely not as comfortable as I maybe appear in those scenarios. It's not that I'm uncomfortable or dislike it, it's more I'm hyper aware that the majority of them collaborate week in week out so there's that chemistry there already

I try my best to match the energy of a group when I turn up, not coming in too hot with volume or chaos as to not disrupt whatever story or objective they may have underway. Once I've gauged the mood and narrative unfolding then I make a call on what I can bring to that scenario, if anything.

Often when I come across people on the server it's because I've gone for a wander. I like pottering about because I can get an idea of what's unfolding that week, catch people off guard for intel or just mingle a little ha

I'm often not a figurehead of factions or storylines so it gives me some free reign to explore which is nice

(the above is specifically about the life series but I have the same ethos for all other SMPs too. I spoke about it on the Imp and Skizz podcast but I like to be helpful whether it's in character, or make assets and provide tech support to collaborators. It brings me a lot of fulfillment)

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (25 October – 7 November 2024)

Hello again! We have two multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below, as well as a bunch of delicious one-shots and chapter updates as always.

Completed Fic:

Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva (M, 61k, complete) “After something of a long absence, Lord Riddle, the Earl of Gaunt, had returned to London.” This is a really cool Regency and Omegaverse AU (how cool is that to see that combined??) that features a lot of courting, gossip and intrigue, social climbing, and Alpha Tom Riddle along with Beta Harry Potter.  Broken Tomarrymort Telephone: Collected Stories by @exquisite-tomarrymort-telephone (E, 109k, complete)  A Tomarrymort version of the Broken Telephone game — passing a whispered word or phrase around a circle, with it often evolving into something quite different as it goes from person to person. “In our version, the starting person received a secret prompt and wrote a fic based on it. They then created a prompt for the next person by summing up what they had written in a single sentence -- with the caveat that their prompt couldn't use the same words as the prompt they were given. This continued through twenty-six (26!) different authors and artists, each adding their own flair and creativity to the exercise. Which brings us to now! We're wrapping up the creation part, so it's time to start sharing it with the world. We hope you enjoy what we've created -- we certainly enjoyed making it.”

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week. (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

every step i choose to take begins to set the world aflame by @boyneptunee (NR, 4k, WIP) “Tom Riddle wants to become immortal. He will do whatever it takes to achieve it. It gets him in the most interesting situations. (A Phoenix saves his life. The Phoenix is not a Phoenix.)” These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain (M, 31k, WIP) “You call me here because you crave atonement, and only I can give you that. After all, I am the only other who knows what it means to tear one’s soul. Or, as one very astute commenter put it, "Enter Voldemort, the World's Worst Therapist!" (Sorry in advance - Voldemort basically wrote this chapter lol)” Touch of Death by @moontearpensfic (E, 6k, WIP) “An oviposition AU, where Eldritch Harry/Death gives Tom his eggs, which will protect Tom from, well, death. In chapter two, the eggs hatch.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 96k, WIP) “One part of my slowburn Harry-raises-Tom series. It ends in Tomarry, but everything building up to that point is unhinged humor, not-good-at-feelings fluff, and angsty plot surrounding Harry and Tom's chaotic and ever growing affections for one another. Update 23 explores Unconditional Love, and there will be familial love, friendship love, flirtatious love, obsessive love and others in future parts.”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapters 26 and 27 (Completed) of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

Chapters 1 through 27 (Completed) of Broken Tomarrymort Telephone: Collected Stories by @exquisite-tomarrymort-telephone

One Shot | Resonating Souls by @endlessburningdarkness

One Shot | Anabiosis by @lee-bella

One Shot | Bites and other Surprises by lemonchase

One Shot | Viticula by @crowcrowcrowthing @cindle-writes

One Shot | Speedrunning Danger by @i-dream-of-libraries

One Shot | Karma’s a bitch by @albondiguilla007

One Shot | It's Like This by @twopenguinsinabox

One Shot | Boulder On by @lumosatnight

One Shot | WTF, Potter?! by BvinYa_Raama

One Shot | a couple inches shorter by @2sidesofthesamesoul

One Shot | bloody money by @00queasy00

One Shot | Cerulean blue by @albondiguilla007

One Shot | It's Not Always What It Seems by dysproporsium 

One Shot | To be Entwined by @cyandenial

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 6 of And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan

Chapter 18 of A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight

Chapters 3 through 6 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 7 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapters 15 and 16 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 11 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 2 of In My Lover's Room (i am free) by @hyalith

Chapters 1 through 5 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 10 of Strings of Fate by dizzydreamer

Chapters 2 and 3 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Chapter 25 of would that i'd loved (long ago) by @sprst1tion

Chapter 18 of with eyes like these (who sees anybody else) by @cealesti

Chapter 9 of 7 by @moontearpensfic

Chapters 3 and 4 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 24 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapter 20 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 19 of Of Darkness and Luminescence by @mindchroniclesandbrainfluff

Chapters 6 and 7 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreakwriting

Chapter 1 of ROOTED by @inhumanbby

Chapter 1 of baby, turn the bright lights on by @ictyn

Chapter 1 of Harry's No Good, Very Bad Day by @2sidesofthesamesoul

Chapter 15 of Double-Aspect Paradox by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 15 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 7 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 131 and 132 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 1 of Wish by @sri-verse

Chapter 10 of flour power by Kozzie

Chapter 5 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Chapter 20 of Occultation by TimaeusKosmou

Chapters 21 and 22 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapters 1 and 2 of The Serpent and the Stag by @green-like-the-sky

Chapter 2 of Fake Boyfriend by J0305

Chapter 7 of i am anonymous, you are a concrete wall by Pensievable

Chapter 8  of we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee

Chapter 8 of Lesmosyne by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 2 of Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic

Chapters 6 and 7 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

*

[lumarhorrors]

Idk if u can do this request so if u don't like it ignore it lmao, how abt a Top prince x Bottom Male reader servant, since the prince is well, the prince, he can do anything so he orders his servant (reader) to have sex with him, with spanking and breeding kink from the prince and dub con (if u feel uncomfortable don't do it)

Of course, I'll make this request! Everything is in my I will write section ^^ also this is my first time writing none Vanilla NSFW so sorry if its sucks.

CW: dun-con, breeding kink, spanking, power play, slightly semi-public I guess? Raw sex.

You were just a lowly servant working for the King and queen as their son's personal servant. Whatever he wanted you did.

To you, the prince was a brat, extremely spoiled and a bit of a perv. You always caught him staring at you, whether it's at your ass or lower regions but it always makes you slightly uncomfortable. To you, you were there to do a job and be paid so you could finally be free. You wrote all thus in your diary and well....the prince found it and was not happy his eye candy was planning on ditching him. So As you made your way back to your sleeping quarters for the night and hand grabbed you pulling you into a semi private hallway.

When you turn to look glaring at you is the prince. And he was angry. "So When were you going to tell me you were leaving!" He yelled at you. "I-I..." you stuttered not ever seeing him this angry before. "as punishment for your little plan you'll have sex with me," he smirked as he knew you would listen to whatever he said. He pushed you down onto your knees and your face pressed into his clothed bludge. Your face goes red and your eyes widen...he's definitely big. "I...yes...your Highness" he whispered as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down leaving him I'm his boxers.

He threads his hands through your hair as you kiss along his clothed cock. You kiss up to the tip before pulling them down, his cock smacked against his shirt. You shakily placed your hands on his hard length and take it in your mouth. "Fuck!" He groaned as he placed one hand on your hair and the other bracing the wall behind you. The Prince grabs your hair tightly and fucked into your mouth using you as he pleased. "Mmm~" you moaned as his Cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged as he thrusted with no remorse tears pricked your eyes. "aww is the little maid boy crying?" he taunted. "Too much for you? Well take it" he glared forcing himself down you as he painted your tongue and throat white

the prince had you pressed against the wall your legs around his waist and his cock buried deep in your tight hole. "hah...please no...hah...more" you begged and whined. he continued to thrust in and out ignoring your pleas for him to slow down, his cum dripped down your thighs onto the clean carpets of the hallway. you tried to keep quiet as to not wake anyone in the palace and get caught, you let put a yelp followed by a moan as he spanked your ass. "I want to hear those pretty noises my little maid" he said coldly. "ah...okay..." you moan as he painted your walls white for the second time. a while later you had moved to his room. the door locked and your faced pressed into a pillow your hips lifted onto your knees back arched as he slammed roughly into your used and abused hole. "t-too...much~" you whimper as you cum for the third time painting the sheets and making a white sticky puddle of cum.

you knew the price was a fuckboy and a perv but you never expected him to breed you like a bunny in heat. you felt a hard slap on your ass as he spanked you again. he leaned down and sucked and bite your neck marking you as his. "you're mine little maid...you're not leaving ever~" he marks your neck with many hickeys. "fuckk baby...so tight for your prince~. gonna breed you all night~." he moaned in your ear. you were exhausted and tried to wriggle free from his grasp only to be flipped and sat in his lap cock still buried deep inside you. "plea- no....mOrE~" you whimpered as he roughly bounced you up and down occasionally smacking your ass till it was read, you felt yourself tighten around his large length signalling your fourth release of the night. he continues to abuse your poor hole even after you released your fluids over your chest and stomach "ughh one more love~" he said releasing his load into you.

after you both finished he kicked you out of his room naked and used. you sat on the floor in front of his closed with only a bed sheet he threw at you. you felt broken and hollow...the prince used you for himself only. you shamefully walked to your quarters and put on your clothes and packed your things and snuck out the palace. you left on your horse to the neighbouring kingdom. when the prince realised you'd left he was furious, but his parents just replaced you and his new maid boy was more than willing to be a toy for the prince so you were soon forgotten and lived your life in peace as the neighbouring kingdom's prince's maid.

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

masterlist

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[chevelleneech]

I love the show for the lack of plot, tbh. I think around episode four or five I felt like it was getting bland, but that’s mainly because I didn’t think they’d actually follow through with Ody3. Granted all we got was a threesome at the moment, but I’m a little more optimistic, so I can see that being a better way to have the stories of the guests continue to flow into Max, Avery, and Tristan. I also think they should continue bringing in more of the crew we currently know, because I like all the actors so far.

Aside from that, I don’t think the show needs huge plots every season like 9-1-1, which I think turned people away initially. It almost made me not bother, because the trailers made me think they were going to go for a s7 opening cruise arc sort of drawn out series, but it’s not. The s7 arc was way more serious, whereas DO is sort of weightless. It’s almost more like a soap opera than a drama, which I’m enjoying so much.

I hope they don’t kill anyone off, but I do also like the idea of the show being in Max’s head for real. Yes, that’s an unconfirmed fandom theory, but how good would it be? Max still in a coma and living a life he’s always dreamt of? Doing what he loves as a doctor, finding love at the same time with two people he also has fun with?

Idk, I feel like this show has a lot of potential so long as they keep it fun. Once they start trying to make it serious or make the medical emergencies realistic, it’ll lose its light. I’m not watching this to see how cruise line first responders deal with a crisis. What grabbed me is the cast chemistry and the characters themselves, which is just as good as a procedural drama that wants to tell a fleshed out story through its characters and setting.

Doctor Odyssey is a show that is fun and quite unrealistic, but it’s comforting because the characters are enjoyable above all else. And they also have very solid weekly stories. 1x06 was very well acted, and even though only three medical professionals exist on the ship, and the captain is almost too comically devoted to his job… it works. It’s not Law & Order, it’s not Grey’s Anatomy. It’s a show that’s kind of a tv writers dream gig. A set cast, a set location, and free rein to write whatever plot and chaos you want.

Tbh, it’s almost like the show Bones. That show had serious moments and was a bit more grounded than Doctor Odyssey, but it still had a lot of fun with itself. It had whimsical episodes and even crossed over with the show Sleepy Hollow (a fantasy about the Headless Horseman), despite being a crime/medical drama itself. DO can be that. It’s a show that can decide to port in LA and crossover with 9-1-1, with Grey’s in Seattle, and can even dabble in fantasy if it wants by simply saying the crew was drugged by someone smuggling something aboard.

There is just so much space for this show to stretch its legs, but it has to be given the chance by the network.

people on reddit complaining about the plot (or lack thereof) in doctor odyssey… how do i break it to them that no one is watching that show for the damn plot! we’re here to see if those hot doctor and nurses get a bit challengers with it!

[planetpedri]

hey girly please can you do one with marc bernal where he’s super clingy after his injury and he just wants to be babied, tysm xxx

Generous heart — Marc bernal.

Pairing: Marc Bernal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend had never been a clingy person, but it seems this injury had changed him more than you thought.

Word count: 560+

Disclaimer/s: Acl injury, pain, light angst to comfort. mostly fluff though !

A/N: When do the injuries end UGHHH. Come back soon diva

Marc’s parents had been allowing you to stay over for the night more and more. Ever since his injury, they had claimed he’d been more down than usual, but whenever you came around, suddenly his spirits were lifted and he felt.. well, the closest thing to normal someone could with the injuries he’d sustained.

While sitting up in his bed, Marc uncomfortably moved around. At some points he’d wince in pain, trying to disguise his discomfort by looking to the side. Each time you’d remind him that he needed to verbally tell you if something was hurting, rather than pretending it wasn’t there.

So, you’d convinced him to just lay down, which he did, but not without pulling you down with him. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he tugged on your arm.

“Lay down with me.” He huffs, looking up at you with a forced scowl.

“Chillax, i’m going to!” You grin, slowly inching yourself from a sitting position down to a lying one. The second you were flat against his bed, he pulled you closer, using his right arm to slip under your head.

Once he was satisfied with the position, your head resting on his shoulder, he bent his head down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile at the gesture before unlocking your phone and opening TikTok, scrolling mindlessly through the videos as Marc watched with you.

Thats how most of your days and nights spent together went. He would have you cuddle with him and watch whatever you had on your phone. In fact, he’d prefer you nearly laying on top of him on your phone, than you giving him space and sitting beside him.

Marc was never this.. cuddly before. You weren’t complaining, though. Just to make that clear. You loved it, in fact. But, it was new, and each time you couldn’t help but smile the whole time. You liked this part of him, the one you hadn’t seen much until recently.

“Wait!” He suddenly says, making your eyes widen and shoot up to him, “I wasn’t done with that video, scroll up.”

Letting out a long breath, you huff. “Holy shit, you scared me!”

A guilty look passes across his face, “sorry..” He says sheepishly, “just scroll up, please?”

Nodding, you scroll back to the last video. “Let me know when I can continue.” You chuckle.

“Will do.” He hums, “hey, wait.”

Groaning, you pause the video. “Yes?” You meet his gaze once again and you’re met with a smug smirk. Great.

“A kiss would do.”

Oh this little…

Rolling your eyes, you tilt your head back to grant him access to your lips. He takes the chance, using his free hand to place his thumb and index finger on your chin, tilting your head up a little further. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his kisses, they were always so gentle and meaningful and perfect…

Sighing into the kiss, your eyes flutter shut. “Anything else you need? You big baby.” You murmur against his lips, feeling the smile that forms on his.

“I am a little hungry..” He pulls away, cocking his head to the side. “Takeout?”

“Or we could get off our asses and go make some real food.” You suggest, but exit TikTok to open google. “What do you want?”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future marc related posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[measuredingold]

i was free in the fall

authors note: something short and sweet :) listened to homesick by dayseeker and it struck a chord within me ( as it always does lol ) and thought, hey... what if i write something based off that ? title comes from the song. feedback is always appreciated and i hope you enjoy !

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 789

cw/tw: established relationship, long distance relationship, fluff and angst ?, Noah Sebastian Is Sort Of Bad At Feelings But He's Trying, sweet lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It comes to him slowly, your voice filling his every sense. If he'd shut his eyes it almost feels like you're there. Almost. He sucks in a deep breath as you continue on about your day, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines you next to him.

Tonight they're in a hotel, having a few days off in between shows and wanting to sleep in a real bed for the first in weeks. He imagines you curled up next to him, whispering to him like you normally did. He can feel your fingertips tracing over the art on his chest, and he can't help but shiver at the thought of you touching him.

Something weighs on him, heavy on his chest, and he frowns into the darkness of his room. Some of the guys went out while he stayed back, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice, yet he still feels... He isn't exactly sure. It's a new feeling he's never actually felt before. Longing for something unfamiliar and it's settling so heavily onto his chest, he almost feels like he can't breathe.

He sucks in another deep breath, eyes squeezing shut as he holds his phone up to his ear. He tries to focus on your voice, the way he can imagine your lips wrapping around certain words, but it only makes the feeling deeper. His stomach twists as the realization slowly creeps upon him, almost like it had been there all along.

He misses home.

He misses you.

This is uncharted territory, an unfamiliar feeling because he doesn't even remember the last time he missed home. Whatever the fuck that was.

Home was sometimes a figment of his imagination, something he never got to truly experience. The older he gets, the more he tries to make this so-called home. It was weird, and he never caught himself missing it that much while on the road. Yeah, he missed his bed and the moments he could get to himself. The peace and quiet and familiarity of his room, but that was it.

And it was never a person.

His mind races as he tries to picture what home looks like right now, your face popping up in every scenario he can think of. You crawling into bed after him, him settling on your couch next to you as you flip through Netflix, you asking him what you two should do for dinner that night, you, you, you.

"...Noah?"

He blinks, hard. His thoughts come to an abrupt stop when he hears you call his name, and he suddenly can't remember the last thing you said. Had he been so caught up in his thoughts that he completely blocked you out?

"Hm?" He clears his throat, sucking in a shaking breath.

"You alright, bub? Got quiet on me."

Noah isn't sure what to say. This is still fairly new. He's known you for years but this new relationship between the two of you was fresh. He still caught himself holding back on how he truly felt, hung up on the what ifs and if it will work out for the long run, but tonight... he doesn't think he'll hold back.

With one last shaking breath, he says, "Just thinking about you."

"Oh." You sound taken aback by that, huffing out a laugh. "And what exactly are you thinking about?"

"How much I miss you." He feels so vulnerable saying it, almost scared you'll say something about him being emotional when he usually never is. "And how much I can't wait to come back home."

Your silence on the other end scares him even more, stomach twisting in a way he feels like he could throw up at any given moment. He shouldn't have said anything, should've said it was nothing and let you continue on. He opens his mouth to brush it off, to tell you that it's whatever, but your voice stops him.

"I miss you, too, baby."

Your voice was so soft, he almost couldn't hear you. But he did. He heard it. He felt it. From his toes all the way to the top of his head. His face warms, cheeks growing red as each second passes, and he can't stop the way his heart pounds against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Of course." You mumble. "Been missin' you the second you left."

"Me too." He whispers it, too scared that if he said it any louder.

The silence that follows doesn't loom as much as it had before, a sort of comfortableness settling over it. He doesn't have to say it, because he knows you know. He knows you feel the exact same way he does in that very moment, and that's enough for him right now.

[himasgod]

Kinich x r4ped!reader

Scaramouche x family issues!reader

(I finally finished this request! I've tried to make it as non-specific as possible, I know this is a sensitive subject. If any of you, dear readers, have gone through a similar experience, I want you to know that this is a serious subject, and that you are not alone. You have many things, many people, many laws and entities protecting you. Feel free to express yourself. You can count on me if you need anything.)

Kinich

Where you find comfort on him after being sexu4lly 4bused.

It was a thick night in Natlan, and the heat was barely able to alleviate the weight you felt in your chest. In the last few days, you had tried to return to your normal life, pretending that everything was fine; but the reality was that the shadows of your pain continued to haunt you. You didn't want to talk, not even to Kinich, afraid that your words would fail to convey the hell you had lived through. However, the concern in his eyes convinced you that tonight you could no longer bear your suffering alone.

Kinich was at your side, silent. Not asking for explanations, not pressuring. Despite his pragmatic personality, he was perceptive and knew when someone was carrying more than they could hold. He watched you for a moment, his eyes serious and attentive, without traces of judgment, only open for whatever you decided to trust him with.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to say," Kinich murmured softly, breaking the silence gently. His rough hands, accustomed to combat and hunting, sought yours with unusual care, as if he were afraid of breaking you at the slightest contact. “But I am here, for whatever you need. You know I love you, forever”

You felt the calm strength in his touch. A shiver ran through your skin, as if Natlan’s warmth was not enough to calm the coldness that had remained inside you since that fucking day. The words were stuck in your throat, and although you wanted to answer him, your voice seemed to have faded. But Kinich understood, as if your silence spoke for itself. He gently pulled you towards him, and without saying anything else, he let his arm surround your body with a protective warmth, gently, as if he were leaving you enough time to react, in case you did not want to have any contact.

“I know that what they did to you…” he began to say, his voice low and full of a weight that he rarely showed, “is something that no human being should endure. I can't undo what they did to you, or erase that pain… but I'll be here, even if you just want company without words."

You squeezed your eyes shut, and at last, the knot in your chest began to give way. Tears ran free, and Kinich didn't look away for a moment. He stayed by your side, like an immovable pillar in the middle of the storm that was hitting you. There was no rush, no attempt to change or minimize what you felt. He was simply there, sharing the weight in silence.

When you finally found your voice, you could barely whisper through your tears:

"I'm scared… scared that I'll never feel whole again, that this has taken a part of me away forever. I feel dirty, I've been taken away…"

Kinich looked at you, his gaze filled with an empathy rare in him. With a deliberate slowness, on purpose in case you didn't feel comfortable, he placed his hand on your face, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb.

"You're so much more... you are stronger than you think,” he replied, with a conviction so deep that he almost managed to make you believe him. “They haven’t taken anything from you. You will overcome it, and you will be the same as always. It is just a process that you will face… and I will be there throughout the process, helping you. You will overcome it. I promise you that.”

His words were like a balm, sincere and firm. Although the doubt and the pain were still present, Kinich’s presence enveloped you in a feeling of security. He did not promise that everything would be fine, but he did promise that he would be there, ready to accompany you in every step you took to heal.

You both stayed like that, sharing the silence under Natlan’s starry sky, and you understood that in Kinich you had found a refuge.

Scaramouche

Where he comforts you after you've told him your family's expectations of you.

The mood in Sumeru was gloomy, reflecting the weight of your thoughts. You had had a heated argument with your family earlier that morning, a conflict that seemed to repeat itself in an endless cycle. It was differences of expectations, impossible demands, and a constant comparison that drained every particle of peace you tried to build. You didn't know how to explain to them your desire to live on your own terms, without the weight of their expectations on your shoulders.

You found yourself walking aimlessly through the city, trying to clear your mind. However, a familiar shadow appeared in your path, and looking up, you saw Scaramouche, arms crossed and a disdainful expression you knew all too well.

"Are you done ghosting around town?" he asked in his usual scathing tone, but something in his eyes revealed more concern than contempt.

You sighed, trying to keep your composure, but the tension in your chest was too strong.

“If you’ve only come to make fun of it, then you might as well leave it,” you replied in a dry tone, hoping your words would drive him away.

To your surprise, Scaramouche didn’t move. Instead, he stared at you intently, as if he were trying to decipher the shadows behind your words.

“I’m not here to make fun of you, fool,” he murmured, his tone softening only slightly. “Though sometimes it seems like you don’t even understand what you need.”

His words made your barriers crumble, and without knowing how, you found yourself telling him everything. The overwhelming expectations, the rejection of your decisions, the constant criticism that felt like daggers in your heart. As you spoke, Scaramouche’s expression changed, a mix of contained rage and dark compassion that only he seemed to possess.

“So… you can’t live up to them and they know it,” he finally said, after listening to you in silence. “Why do you have to mold yourself in their image?”

You looked at him in shock, tears threatening to spill out. It was the first time someone had said it out loud, like a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe.

“Because… they’re my family. I’m supposed to make them happy.”

Scaramouche snorted, his gaze turning icy.

“That’s absurd,” he muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Family shouldn’t be a burden that crushes you. They don’t have the right to decide how you live. If they truly loved you, why would they hurt you this way?”

His words were harsh, but they carried a sincerity that cut through every one of your doubts. You moved a little closer, seeking refuge in his presence. Though Scaramouche rarely showed affection to you, eben if he was your boyfriend, this time he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lean on him, his hand resting gently on your back as the weight of your tears fell silently.

“You don’t need to live up to their expectations to be worth something. If they don’t see it, it’s their problem, not yours,” he murmured, almost in a whisper. “And I… well, I’m the last one who should say this, but… you’re not alone in this fight.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt like someone understood you without judging you. Scaramouche, with his reticent nature and his own history of pain, knew more than he let on.

And in that instant, you realized that even if your family would never understand your choices, maybe you had someone at your side who could support you without asking for anything in return.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

"Ghosts revert to their death state when in extreme distress" okay, I hear you. But I raise "ghosts revert to their death state when they feel safe/comfortable enough to be completely vulnerable"

So imagine this, Charles and Edwin go over to the girls apartment for a routine-Scooby-Doo night, watching 80's horror films, catching up on pop culture, a game of Cluedo. (Dealers choice.) And everything is going great, they're chilled out; Charles in his singlet and Edwin's sleeves rucked up to his elbows.

Mid-movie (or whatever you choose) there's a hint of a draft and it's like the girls ears pop, going from low pressure to high pressure. They blink. Look around and. Oh. What?

Edwin is the limpest they have EVER seen him, all chilled like a cat in a patch of sun. He's still proper in that permanent way of his, but there's something distinctly soft about his features. And Charles is 100% pliable, bro is slung upsidedown on the couch or something with a lazy grin and just totally chillaxed.

Oh, and Edwin's got rope burn on his bare wrists and ankles, small cuts in the corners of his lips, he's somehow MORE pale and there are deep, restless shadows on his eyes. His hair is wavy apparently?? It's so messy and he's in thin nightwear and whenever he moves he leaves a trail of fading sand, like delayed frames in animation glitching.

Charles is soaking wet but it evaporates before it hits the floor, his curly hair is plastered to his forehead and leadenly hanging toward the floor. His singlet in nigh see through and his feet are totally bare, his skin is pallor with purples and deep reds speckling any free skin. Fine tremors wrack his body and puffs of pearly white condensation breeze past his blue lips.

Do Crystal and Niko freak out? Are they so used to this they simply share a look and continue on as business usual? Does Crystal demand answers while Niko frets and gushes over them?

Are Charles and Edwin unashamed? Are they embarrassed or panicked? Does Charles take over and cheerfully explain why? Does Edwin butt in and give an explanation straight from the book?

Crystal probably calls them saps and Niko probably coos about how sweet it is.💀💀

[cilil]

Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

[greenduvet]

flowers she gave him pt. 1

A/N: Hi loves!! So excited to finally share this story that has been brewing in my head for what feels like forever. I haven’t posted any of my writing publicly for years! So this is a big step for me, and I just couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself any longer. I want to say the biggest thank you to @luiscarrutherss and @galarian-weezing-on-prep for not only reading the early draft but making me feel excited to write and share my story. Also my girlfriend for helping me edit and watching succession. This will be a friends to lovers slow burn, so if that’s your jam like mine stick around! Anyways, enjoy mwah!

The floor was silent. Most people had gone home hours ago, the lights off in most offices. It was always so odd this time of night — looking out over all the different worlds happening just below, life continued on so vividly yet it felt so stiff and halted here.

It wasn’t the plan to have been here this late. Really he should have picked you up hours ago, the dinner reservation that had been made earlier this week now way past check in.

The reservation was Roman’s idea. Maybe a poor attempt at an apology, the only way a Roy knew how to apologize — dance around it yet never letting it fully resolve. You were used to it by now, a lifetime of Roman had made you well familiar. Yet this time felt different. Roman for once in his life was being distant, independent. He would blame it on work, family, stress, but you knew him better than that.

Tearing your eyes from the window, you look at your phone. Still nothing from Roman, not even a heads up that he would be an hour late to the aforementioned reservation. The thought of sending another ignored text filled you with a sense of irritation. Why wait here when you could see him face to face?

Without a second thought you haphazardly throw your things into your bag, muttering softly to yourself. The lights of your borderline clinical office flick off as you shut the door.

The way to Romans office was nearly tattooed in your brain from years of walking back and forth. Though your office was just down the hall, tonight it felt like a dreadful journey into unfamiliar territory. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

Turning the corner you could see him through the thick glass walls. He was staring at his computer, full attention to whatever was on the screen. You swear you had never seen him work so hard in his life… or at least pretend to work this hard. With a soft sigh, you walk into the office and stop in front of his desk, his eyes not once glancing from the screen.

“Late night?” The tone of your voice is dry, maybe a bit sarcastic. You weren’t used to this Roman, the detached, focused type. He had always been clingy, willing to throw his work down as soon as you had walked in.

Even standing directly in front of him, his eyes still never move from the screen. Moving his free hand from the desk to run through his already tousled hair, he hums softly, not bothering to give a full response.

Another sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to take a seat on the piece of foam covered in velvet they called a couch, there more for decor than actual comfort.

~~~

While your back is turned, Roman’s eyes glance quickly to you. The perfect image of a long day, he watched as you slowly dropped your bag without a thought. The whole day he had fought the urge to text you and watched the minutes tick past the planned reservation. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, pushing you away and trying to hurt you. Yet he felt like he was the only one hurting here.

As quick as his eyes lingered on you they were back on the screen, looking at the same report sheet he had been rereading for over an hour now. The sight of you settling on the couch out of the corner of his eye made his brows furrow softly. Why was he doing this again?

“Uh, ya know, Dad had me do some stuff.” He mumbles softly in response, his voice high in octave and almost tense. God, he didn’t even believe himself. He rips the hand in his hair down and begins to rapidly type something on the computer, trying his best to sell his stupid ‘busy’ act. You weren’t buying it, but it was unspoken that you and Roman never really did feelings — maybe that's why you were still so close.

~~~

Sighing, you pull your phone out and slip off the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. It seems like Roman won’t be finished anytime soon, so neither will you.

The two of you work in a tense but comfortable silence, you clearing old emails and roman rapidly slamming keys. It was routine, though it didn’t keep you from noticing that what was once so familiar was now slowly changing. The silence still comfortable, yet more deafening than before.

“We had a reservation for tonight, did you forget?” Your voice breaks the silence, addressing the elephant in the room. Panning your view to roman, you can tell the question makes him squirm. The vein on his forehead bulged, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the screen.

You wait to hear some poor excuse, something around how it wasn’t his fault or to fuck off… but it never comes. Roman just continues to slam on the keys, the discomfort only growing on his face.

Sitting up, you nearly roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time of the night. You didn’t have time to waste sitting twiddling your thumbs to expect a coherent response from Roman when he obviously wasn't interested in giving you one. Slipping on your tight shoes, you grab your bag and rise wordlessly.

You look at Roman, hoping for something. For him to look at you, acknowledge that you were here for him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though it seems like there is a deeply rooted panic there. 5...10…30 seconds go by and he does nothing.

The voice in your head repeating a mantra of fuck this over and over finally wins, and you turn to the door to leave. Though it hurt, you were tired of this back and forth. That, and your bed sounded much more appealing than the stone couch.

~~~

The second you leave Romans office, his eyes tear from the screen to your disappearing figure. The feeling of panic that had been bubbling in his chest all week started to explode into a deeper fear — you were walking away. He knew he deserved it, but still — what the fuck? Part of him thinks to leave you be and ignore your texts again, but his heart is screaming at him to follow you, chase after you and stop pushing you away like he had been for weeks.

He rises from his desk, leaving his computer unlocked and hastily makes it over to where you’d gone off to.

~~~

It feels like the elevator is taking forever on purpose. Maybe to taunt you for waiting for Roman, or maybe because deep down you had hoped he would come after you. Still, you waited for the doors to open so you could forget about today and the weird feeling in your chest at your best friend ignoring you. Why did it feel like you might actually lose him this time? Roman had seen you through your worst, and you’d seen him through his. But this dynamic was new, and didn’t feel like something you could recover from.

Finally, the high pitched ding breaks you from your thoughts, the doors sliding open to the luxury elevator awaiting you. Stepping in, you scan your badge and wait to be taken to ground level once again. Wine sounded good tonight, lots of it.

The doors begin to close, but before they can shut a hand is shoved between them, forcing them to open. Roman. He was there, face slightly flushed. It was funny, because Roman had never been the one to chase after you originally.

~~~

The sun felt hot – almost scorching. It was the end of June and finally it was starting to feel like summer in the hamptons. The backyard seemed to stretch on forever and was decked in long tables covered in lavish meals. This was a yearly event Logan held for his “partners” and their families — It was for the people who knew where the bodies were hidden. The whole ‘get away’ was to keep them close.

Though the event was mostly filled with adults, a few children were scattered around. A boy almost in his older teens, one a few years younger doing his best to fit in with the adults. An even younger boy with messy hair and big eyes, a young girl with fiery red hair, and lastly another girl who didn’t really fit in with the others. Yet that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Roman! Look at this – it's a worm!” You held out the stick with a worm dangling from it, the soft blue dress hanging on your tiny frame most definitely ruined. The wide grin on your face only grew as Romans eyes widened in disgust as he turned in the opposite direction. You would only start to chase after him again in response, as you had all afternoon.

This was a game between just you and Roman — you bugged, poked, nagged, and in response he would run away, gag, and ignore. For some reason your tiny brain just never got the memo that he couldn’t stand you. Things were easier back then. Innocent.

The sound of a loud bell stops you in your steps, Roman halting ahead of you. Dinner time. Placing the worm gently back to the ground you follow the children you came to know as the Roys.

The feeling of eyes on you from your parents and other bodies burnt like fire on your skin as you approached the dinner table. You hadn’t meant to dirty the dress, but running through the vast yard with the people you called “friends” had made you forget — forget that this was a performance, and that you needed to set a good example so that your family could stand out. Your mother would have words to say about this later.

Each child slid into their assigned seat at their own table away from the adult conversations happening at the other, longer table. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved — you didn’t fully understand that whole world yet at the ripe age of 5, but you knew enough to be bored. Shiv felt the same way you did, her face more relaxed now than it had been at the sound of the ringing bell.

Roman’s seat was the one next to yours, and it was made obvious by the soft groan that left his mouth when he saw the tag of his name next to yours. Dramatically, he pulled his chair from the table, each action over dramatized and nearly throwing his body into the seat. Though the sour look didn't last long on his face as his eyes panned over to you and your dirty blue dress.

“Mommy and Daddy won’t be very happy with that, now will they?” The sour look fades from his face, a devilish grin replacing it. His tone is teasing and rude. It wasn’t anything new with Roman, though. The only attention he spared to give you was the more unpleasant kind. But it didn’t stop your obsession with trying to break him down and play with you.

You return his comment with a pout and look away from him, your hands finding themselves busy undoing the neatly folded table napkin at your place setting. Gently your fingers pull it apart, corner by corner. Finally you place it gently on your lap, your head high as you reply. “It was an accident. Maybe if you played nice, I wouldn't be messy.”

Roman was almost surprised with the response he was met with, a little smirk filled his lips. He couldn’t help but feel put in his place. He nodded to himself, taking the napkin and ripping the cloth out of its fold. Vastly different from the way you had done it with so much meaning. Maybe you weren’t as annoying as Roman thought.

The dinner was pretty tame. The children made soft conversation about various topics — the summer vacations they had planned, the extracurriculars, the movies they wanted to see. While the adults stuck to business conversation, how it always was and would be. It felt nice though, for once being around other children who somewhat understood your lifestyle. That, and it was a lot better than the company of your au pair.

After dinner, you find yourself with Shiv in the garden playing a game of fairies while running around the well maintained garden of roses. The sound of your feet against the gravel and shared giggles is all that can be heard — a pure moment of childhood innocence. Your dress slowly changed into one more brown than blue, Shiv’s own dress dirtying as well. It didn’t matter though, because for once you were just girls playing.

Logan’s booming voice rips you and Shiv from the moment. You can’t make out anything he is saying, but the both of you know it can't be good. You look to Shiv but her eyes are already on your face, wide and crystal blue. Then you hear it clear as day, the only word that mattered. Roman.

Looking around, you find a flower from one of the many bushes and pluck it gently, making sure to not damage any petals. You didn’t know Roman well yet but you knew well enough that this was normal. The sound of Logan's booming voice most times directed at him, as he seemed to always be the easiest target. Though, there was something about this time that felt worse than the others.

Without a second thought you run off, away from Shiv and the flower garden, carefully cradling the small white flower in your palm. The soft sound of sniffling guiding where to go, eventually leading you to the side of the oversized house.

There he was — sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, and a hand holding his cheek in pain. The spitting image of a kicked puppy.

This was worse than the other times.

Wordlessly you sit next to Roman, eyes not daring to look at him, but glued to the wall with ivy overgrowing. Before Roman can protest or run away, you bring the small white flower into view. A smile fills your lips before placing the flower onto his knee with all the care in the world.

That was the moment everything changed.

~~~

The elevator doors open fully and Roman steps into it with you. Your name falls from his lips as his hands comb through his hair for the umpteenth time that night. “Look– Fuck. Let’s just grab dinner, okay? There’s gotta be someplace still open and half edible around the block.”

You can tell he is trying his best to contain his expression and stay in control of the moment, but he's failing. Miserably.

His hazel eyes watery and nearly pleading, begging you to look at him and forgive him for being a total ass.

Looking him up and down, you hesitate. Maybe to make him sweat or to make him feel how you did all day, you weren’t sure.

“Wherever we go, I want hashbrowns.” You tear your eyes away from roman and click the button that would take you to the lobby. Immediately there is air in the elevator again, Roman’s pleading eyes vanishing. He always seemed to get his way with you.

[bicheetopuff]

Prompts for puff:

I have a few prompts you might like to write about! Some follow cannon, others are AUs (I don’t know if you have a pref o_O) Feel free to edit these to your own ideas

Pirate AU: Class 1a are pirates, taking on the seven seas. But what happens when the League of Voyagers (a vicious rival pirate group) attack them, leaving them stranded on a mysterious island?

Shojou manga! Izuku finds Katsuki’s collection of shojou manga and reads it. Izuku discovers that Katsuki had been using phrases/tropes in the manga when talking to him. With this info, Izuku resorts to flirting the hell out of Katsuki. (Aka, Izuku finds out that Katsuki is in love with him and proceeds to romance him to the grave)

Villain Deku AU (hear me out), but it’s told from the perspective of Izuku from cannon who fell into the villain AU and helps Nedzu, Tsugauchi & Class 1A find and take down !villain Deku, all while Katsuki (from cannon) is finding ways to get him back. (Bonus points if !Villain Au Baku makes Izuku realise he is in love with him)

Hatsume’s rings of doom: in which hatsume makes thought-sharing rings using quirk technology & makes Izuku + Katsuki test them out. The rings do not come off. Help them.

RealityTV AU: Where the promising young heroes of Class 1A get a segment on the hit show HEROES 4 HIRE: a reality show in which heroes are called to do domestic jobs like babysitting and beach cleaning. Izuku and Katsuki have been paired and will spend the entirety of the show bound together by the hands (at least when the cameras are running).

Streamer AU: (def not original but whatever) Katsuki is a famous streamer, known for shaking up the gaming world with his aggressive play style and notorious attitude, but how will the sweet, funny and precious cinnamon roll that is Deku react when he gets placed into a raging tournament with katsuki? (Extra: Izuku is a badass and creates one of the most influential dynamics with Katsuki, who is ecstatic that someone can match his freak)

My personal fav TIME TRAVEL AU: This prompt can go many ways (AND I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS OMGSVFSNBDJSVS) but I’ll just pick one: Somehow, Izuku (who just got done fighting Muscular for the first time) gets transported to his middle school class, chaos ensues. (Katsuki is beyond concerned for Deku, but needs to get his head out of his ass before trying to reach out) How will Izuku handle being ripped from his time?

Hope these help. And it sucks that you are surrounded by Trump supporters, honestly fuck them. I want to cremate him and put him in a firework that explodes and says “EQUAL RIGHTS”, or smth like that.

(p.s. you are one of my favourite authors EVER and I go insane when I read your stuff. Literally frothing at the mouth rn)

Hi, thank you for the prompts! It makes me really happy that you like my fics <3

I probably won’t use all of these (at least not immediately because I’m kind of a slow writer. But I also do have a preference, I like to write canon compliant stuff so I don’t think I’d have the skill set to write the pirate, villain deku, and streamer AUs, though I do think they’re cool ideas to keep in mind for later!), but the Shoujo Manga, Ring of Doom, and Reality TV AUs sound hilarious, I’m definitely using those.

I really like time travel AUs, but I will say I do already have one planned. It’s like a continuation of another fic but I plan on making it long so I’m not working on it rn. I’m not sure how long exactly, but at least over 50k words so it’s definitely something for the future!

And yeah I think I can speak for every queer person of color who lives in the south, being here right now is kind of spooky if you don’t live in a big city. Luckily, I do live in the city, but my city is big enough to still have its fair share of bigots. I’m worried, but at the same time I have a lot of faith in our community, and I’m sure we’ll all make it out okay. I will say though, I’ve had to unfollow and block so many friends from high school over the past few days… it’s unfortunate but I’d rather that than have someone in my life who doesn’t believe I deserve to exist. But other than that, writing and creating stuff is a good distraction for now :)

[blankticket]

Vash picked out a caramel apple-flavored lollipop to taste in the meanwhile, allowing Wolfwood to gather himself enough to speak again.

…Though when he does continue, he just sounds worse. As he listens, the Plant shifts the way he sits, tilting to the side to hug his knees while sitting on the table bench. He pulls the lollipop out of his mouth, carrying the stick between his middle and ring finger to respond.

"Well, we can't take back what's been done; but, that counts for the sacrifices you've all made, just as much as it does for what you did to my brother. N'to yourself, and to all of us. It's not gone anywhere.

"So. Um. Here's—Here's what I think." A short sigh. Stamps scratches the back of his head with his free hand, before that arm returns to wrap around his knees.

"I know… My brother. And I know he wants you to feel like this. To see yourself this way, and t'make you believe love isn't gonna make its way back to you for what you've done.

"But that's the real lie, Wolfwood. 'No matter how dark it gets', right? You heard her as much as my brother and I have. ...Whatever happens, that blank ticket can't be thrown away.

"You can have it again, if you want it."

The kindness feels undeserved. He wishes he could tell Vash to just get angry, please get angry, scold him and yell at him and tell him how badly he fucked up. But that's not coming. And he can't beg him for that because then the little shit will just do it out of a sense of obligation, just to make him feel better.

He still feels a little like a child, sad and frightened and small. He's stopped looking at Vash and instead is looking at his hands now in his lap. Tense, like he's still anticipating a scolding.

He doesn't say anything for some time, doesn't look up, doesn't reach for a piece of candy like he might have during any other conversation. Sharing food and eating together right now just feels... not right. It won't make him feel any better.

"I ruined it," he finally chokes out, voice on the edge of a sob. "What was the point? What's it even mean that I just went right back to bein' that guy again?"

Wolfwood hates himself for even speaking. He doesn't want to rope Stamps into his self-pity.

"Everything I did for him, everything he did for me—it all mattered. I changed, I know I did. Then I just went n'threw it all away."

[mikakuna]

batman really just be saying shit. "killing the joker will make you the same as him"

like oh yes of course. you're definitely on par with a man who's killed thousands of innocents because you killed one person. bitch please. you're telling me bruce being a pussy enabler is why thousands of people die at the hands of one person? he should just go to therapy after killing the joker if it's that big of a deal. if you're gonna take on a role as serious and God-like as Batman/hero, you need to accept that you have to do immoral and messed up things. there's no reason to really make batman so strictly Moral if the supervillains he fights really show no shame in mass murdering and torturing innocents- innocents in a city that he swears is his and his to protect.

in a universe like dc where supervillains (+people who work with chemicals that aren't usable in the real world) exist and absolutely cannot be tied down in prison, killing is likely one of the only ways to keep cities safe. like sorry but batman has to kill the joker, a mass murderer, if he wants gotham to become a safer place. it's that or create an indestructible prison that no villains can escape from no matter what. which surprisingly hasn't been made yet, from what i know, despite all the amazing tech bruce has and can afford

[elisedonut]

Trans boy Percy can be a lot of fun

just a lot of people have a tendency to make it something he comes out about Pre-canon and that it changes nothing

while I'm over here like I firmly believe that Molly would not have continued having kids if she thought she already had a daughter

and i think she would be annoying as hell about him figuring himself out I just think she would be so disrespectful about it

Molly would be a "but your ruining yourself! you are my baby girl!" while crying type of parent and I believe that in my heart

She would guilt trip Percy like crazy about it while feeling 100% like she's doing the right thing.

Do I think that maybe she would realize after a few years that she's being absolutely terrible? I mean like I would hope so