#henry mad fumbled

[gardenwons]

The road to rejection

SYNOPSIS: Three miles, a pocket full of poems, and one stubborn poet knocking on the same door, hoping that no might eventually rhyme with yes. PAIRINGS: poet!jungwon x hard to get!reader GENRE: fluff just fluff, angst (if u squint), literally hopeless romantic vibes also lowk loser!jw i lovv A/N: inspired by henry wadsworth longfellow’s story with his wife, it was too sweet to not make jw a lovesick puppy. anws i highly suggest u guys read about his life lol

It started with a wrong turn.

Jungwon had been walking home from his poetry class, his head full of verses and not enough sense to look up from his notebook. The ink on the page was still wet when he crashed straight into you- books flying, curses slipping, and a coffee cup spilling down the front of your perfectly pressed blazer.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me" you hissed, stepping back as the dark stain spread across your perfectly pressed blazer, the smell of cheap espresso filling the air like a bad punchline to a joke you didn’t find funny.

Jungwon’s mouth fell open, eyes darting between the puddle on the pavement and the damage on your clothes. His heart stuttered, embarrassment rising faster than the heat in his face. He fumbled with clumsy hands, patting down his pockets for something..maybe a napkin, an apology, or even a way to reverse time. Nothing.

“Some tragedies are best written in stains” he blurted out before his brain caught up with his mouth. The words hung awkwardly between you as his eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to erase them from existence.

Your brows shot up, and your lips curled with scorn. “What?”

When he dared to look again, his gaze landed on your face, memorizing every curve and crease, the sharp arch of your brow, the twist of your lips as you exhaled in disbelief. Heat prickled the back of his neck, and his heart raced as if his own words had betrayed him.

You wiped at your ruined blazer with a resigned sigh, shaking your head as if dealing with a hopeless case. "Then I hope you’re a better poet than a pedestrian" you snapped, brushing past him with quick, purposeful steps.

He turned to watch you walk away, the words lingering like a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. The sound of your voice echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgettable

The next morning, a poem sat crumpled in his hand as he knocked on the door he’d seen you vanish behind.

And so began his journey walking three miles, one heart, endless rejection,  and a muse who never made it easy.

—---------------------------------------------------------------

For weeks, Jungwon walked.

Three miles from his dormitory to your corner of the city, each step a steady rhythm against rain-soaked pavements and autumn leaves that crunched beneath his worn sneakers. The crisp evening air carried the familiar scent of jasmine from your mother’s garden, a fragrance that marked the final stretch of his journey, a pilgrimage guided by longing and stubborn hope.

He knew you would not answer. He knew you would not say yes.

Yet he knocked.

Every time, without fail, you opened the door. Your brow lifted in amused curiosity, and a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips. You stood there, a picture of untouchable grace framed by the golden glow of the porch light, looking as if you belonged to a world far beyond his reach.

“Still here, Poet?”

“Still here.”

The ritual remained unchanged. He asked if he could walk with you to the market, along the riverside, or anywhere you might let him follow. And, as always, you refused, laughter slipping from your mouth like soft, mocking music, as though he were nothing more than a foolish boy chasing impossible dreams.

“Try again tomorrow, Jungwon. Maybe I’ll say yes when the moon turns green.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

His friends called him mad.

“She’s never going to say yes” Sunghoon sighed, his voice heavy with the kind of exasperated sympathy reserved for fools in love. He slung an arm over Jungwon’s shoulder as they trudged back from your house yet again, the scent of jasmine still lingering faintly on Jungwon’s clothes, as if the very air mocked his persistence.

Jungwon’s gaze remained fixed on the ground ahead, eyes burning with quiet determination as he stepped over fallen leaves and cracked pavement. “Some flowers bloom only in the wild” he muttered, the words low and resolute, as if willing them into a truth he alone believed.

Sunoo, walking just behind them, let out a sharp laugh that bounced between the streetlights. “You’re writing poetry for a wall, my friend” he said, shaking his head, his grin filled with amusement and pity. “She doesn’t even read it. What’s the point?”

Jungwon’s lips curled into a small, stubborn smile. His fingers tightened around the frayed edges of a folded poem resting in his pocket, ink smudged from too many readings, too many dreams scribbled into desperate verses.

“Then I’ll carve it into stone if I must” he whispered, as if confessing a secret only his heart could hear. His voice was soft, but his resolve was unshakable, each word heavy with the weight of devotion that no rejection could crush.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The next day, he walked again.

Three miles stretched out before him, step by aching step, each one an echo of his unshakable devotion. The autumn wind bit at his cheeks and tangled in his dark hair, but he didn’t slow. His feet knew the path as intimately as the lines of his own hands, worn smooth by repetition, driven forward by a longing that lived too deep to name.

In his pocket, a new poem lay folded and creased, the edges softened from the restless grip of his fingers. Ink smudged the corners where he had touched it too many times, tracing words meant for you alone. His heart was a raw, beating thing as he approached your door once more, a fragile offering wrapped in stubborn hope.

When the door opened, it wasn’t the jasmine-scented air or the golden light that stole his breath. It was the sight of you, effortless and unreachable, with eyes that seemed to dance between amusement and something he could never quite catch.

Jungwon drew in a slow breath, his chest tightening as he met your gaze. He spoke before you could beat him to it. “I know you’ll say no.”

You leaned against the frame, crossing your arms as if this were all a game you had already won. “Then why do you keep coming?”

For a moment, silence hung between you, taut and heavy. His eyes held yours without flinching, and in that stillness, the weight of his soul stood bare- raw, unguarded, and fierce with a feeling too vast to contain.

“Because you’re the only answer I want.” His voice was steady, low, and sure, each word cutting like the edge of a blade. “And if I have to write a thousand verses, take a thousand steps just to hear one yes, I will.”

The wind stirred the space between you, cold against his skin, but he felt nothing except the pounding in his chest. His truth had been spoken, a prayer and a promise laid at your feet.

—-----------------------------------------------------

That night, you sat by the window, the dim light of the moon casting long shadows across the room. The stillness of the evening wrapped around you like a quiet secret, and yet, your thoughts raced, unsettled and restless. A strange, unfamiliar warmth had settled in your chest, a warmth that felt like it didn’t belong to you, something uninvited, a quiet stirring that wouldn’t be ignored.

You thought of him. The boy with ink-stained fingers and weary shoes, whose every step seemed to carry the weight of his unspoken feelings. His face, flushed with both embarrassment and determination, came to mind, the way he held himself, always so sure of his purpose, even when you shut the door in his face. You thought of his poems, the ones left unread on your doorstep, crumpled by the cruel wind but still clinging to the faint hope that you might one day read them, might one day understand. You had ignored them, tossed them aside with the same coldness you had shown him, but now, they lingered in your thoughts like the trace of an unanswered question.

His words echoed in your mind, cutting through the silence like a quiet thunder. "Because you're the only answer I want."

You bit your lip, looking out at the darkened streets. The thought of him, the persistence, the belief that something in you was worth the fight, made the warmth inside you grow, unfamiliar but undeniable. What would it feel like to stop turning him away? What would it be like to open the door, to let him in, to finally answer him in a way he hadn’t expected?

For the first time, you wondered if you were the one who had been running all along.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Jungwon went away, seeking peace of mind and space for his scholarly pursuits. The quiet of distant places was a balm to his restless soul, a necessary separation from the world he had tried so hard to win. His letters, once frequent, became infrequent, each one carrying the weight of his thoughts, his poetry, and his quiet heartache. In the last one he wrote to you, he poured his heart onto the paper, the words raw and unguarded, as if he knew this would be the last time he would try to reach you this way.

The letter lay unopened for days, then weeks, and finally, months. You never meant to ignore it, but life had a way of slipping by. The rejection had made it easier to push him aside, to lock away the words that might force you to confront something you weren’t ready to face.

But one evening, after so much time had passed, you finally sat down and read it.

"I leave, not because I want to, but because I need to. I need to find my own way, not as the boy who walked miles to see you, but as someone who can stand on his own, who can breathe without the weight of unrequited love on his chest.

I will never regret these steps, these words, or the way I believed in something that, in the end, was only meant for me.

But perhaps, in time, you will come to understand that my poetry was never about you. It was about me. And even if you never say yes, I will still be the poet who writes, who walks, who lives.

I hope one day, when the moon turns green, you will find yourself ready to say what I long to hear. Until then, I’ll be walking my own path, where I can finally stop chasing after something that can never be mine."

You read those words, and for the first time, you understood. The sting of his absence, the weight of what he had carried all along, settled deep in your chest. You had been too afraid to open your heart, to let him in, and now it was too late. The quiet, stubborn boy had walked away, not in defeat, but in hope for something he had never been able to find with you.

But now, with the words in front of you, you wondered if it was truly the end.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Seven years.

Seven whole years had passed, but the weight of those years felt more like a single breath than the stretch of time they represented. Jungwon had left, chasing peace, running from the ache that had clung to him for too long. In his absence, life had moved on, his friends had changed, she had changed- but he remained tethered to a past that refused to loosen its grip.

When Sunghoon had called for a reunion, Jungwon had agreed without much thought. It wasn’t so much about reconnecting with old friends as it was a quiet test for himself. How much had changed? Had those seven years reshaped him, or had they only deepened the parts of him he’d tried to forget? He hadn’t expected her to be there, not really. But when the door opened and he saw her standing in the room, everything stopped.

It was her- the same face, but sharper, a little more guarded, like she had learned how to protect herself from whatever weight the world had put on her. The smile she gave him was thin, more of a polite gesture than anything else, and it didn’t reach her eyes. For a moment, he was paralyzed by the recognition of everything he had left behind, everything he had lost.

"Jungwon" she said, her voice tentative, as though unsure whether they were still familiar to each other.

He didn’t know what to say. He was supposed to have words for this moment, but all that came out was a soft, “Hey”

Her gaze flickered over him, and he felt the tension coil between them. There were no pleasantries, no casual laughter. Only silence that seemed too loud for everything they had once shared.

"I didn’t expect you to be here" she said, and there was something fragile in her tone, something he hadn’t expected.

Jungwon managed a wry smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his heart. “I could say the same thing.”

The air thickened between them. The years felt impossibly long, but somehow, the moment felt like they were standing in the same place they had been seven years ago. The gap between them wasn’t just time; it was everything they hadn’t said, everything that had been left undone.

“You’ve changed” she said, her voice careful, almost as if she were trying to figure out if he was still the person she remembered.

Jungwon looked at her and shrugged, the faintest surprise pulling at his features. “Yeah, I guess I have. But I think you’ve changed too.”

There was a pause, a beat where neither of them knew what to say, but both of them felt the weight of everything that hadn’t been spoken over the years. Jungwon had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, running through apologies and explanations, but now that he stood before her, those words felt foreign, as if they had been left behind in the past where they belonged.

“I never meant to hurt you-” he blurted out, the words slipping from him before he could stop them. “I thought... leaving would be the only way to find peace, but it wasn’t. It didn’t fix anything.”

Her gaze softened for a moment, and for the briefest instant, it felt like she was seeing him again, like the years hadn’t erased everything they once had. Jungwon’s heart twisted. Maybe it was too late, maybe the distance was too wide to cross, but he couldn’t help the flicker of hope that burned quietly in his chest.

“Maybe we’ve been walking in circles all this time” he muttered, almost to himself. “Maybe this is where we’re supposed to be.”

She didn’t answer immediately. She just stood there, looking at him like she was weighing the possibility of what he had said. Her lips quirked, the faintest smile touching the corners of her mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was a smile full of questions, of hesitation, as if she wasn’t sure if they could move forward, or if they even should.

“Maybe” she whispered, barely audible. The word lingered between them, suspended in the air like a promise that could either be broken or fulfilled.

Jungwon stood there, a quiet storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t tell if it was a sign of hope or just the end of something that had never really started. But as they stood there, inches apart and yet a lifetime away, there was something in the silence, something fragile but undeniably real that told him maybe, just maybe, this was worth fighting for.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The soft murmur of the café wrapped around them like a blanket, a comfortable hum that masked the quiet tension between them. The table was small, just a few inches separating them, but it felt like a world apart, the kind of distance that could either keep them apart forever or draw them closer. Neither of them could tell which.

She stirred her coffee, her fingers delicate around the spoon, her movements slow as if she was trying to draw out the moment. Jungwon watched her, his eyes tracing the curve of her fingers, the way she absentmindedly traced the rim of her cup. It felt so familiar, so heartbreakingly normal. Yet, everything about this moment was different, charged with something neither of them was willing to name.

"So, you still write?" she asked, her voice quiet, but there was a softness in it that hadn’t been there the last time they spoke, a gentleness that made his heart skip, just a little.

Jungwon nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I do. Sometimes. Though, I think my poems are a little less hopeful than they used to be."

She met his eyes then, her gaze steady but searching. "What do they say now?"

"Mostly about missing things I didn’t even know I wanted," he said with a half-laugh, the words escaping before he could stop them. His fingers tightened around his cup, the weight of the admission heavier than he expected.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she might say something, maybe something sharp or maybe something sweet. Instead, she simply nodded, her gaze flickering away to something outside the window. "I guess we’re all writing those kinds of poems now" she murmured.

Jungwon’s heart ached, but he couldn’t look away. "I never stopped thinking about you" he said, the words slipping out before he had a chance to think about them.

Her eyes snapped back to him, wide and unreadable, but there was something softer in them, something more open than before. The way she held his gaze, the way she didn’t look away felt like everything had led to this one moment, the space between them shifting, the distance slowly closing.

"I thought you were gone for good" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I thought maybe I was better off without you."

Jungwon’s chest tightened at the honesty in her words. He leaned in slightly, his hands clasped on the table, feeling the heat of her presence like it was burning through him. "I thought the same. But I guess some things are harder to forget than others."

There was a long silence after that, a silence that felt thick with everything they had left unsaid, everything they hadn’t been able to say in all the years that had passed. She looked down at her cup, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and for a moment, Jungwon wondered if it was because she was remembering something, too.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was light, but there was a certain warmth to it that made his heart beat faster. "You know, you always did have a way with words."

He smirked, the familiar teasing glint in his eyes. "I think you liked it better when I was just a poet."

Her gaze softened, and she let out a soft laugh, the kind of laugh that only came from long, shared memories. "Maybe... But now? I think I like it better when you’re just here."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the words hanging between them like the unfinished lines of a poem, both beautiful and unresolved. Jungwon couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way, like something was on the edge of being real, but still so fragile that it could slip away at any moment.

When she stood up to leave, Jungwon didn’t move, not right away. There was something in the way she smiled at him that made his chest tighten. She seemed like she might say something more, but instead, she simply glanced at him with that same half-smile he remembered so well.

"I’ll see you again, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.

He nodded, his heart in his throat, and smiled. "Yeah, I think you will."

She turned to walk away, her footsteps soft against the floor, and for a moment, Jungwon didn’t move, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure. He could feel the pull between them, the gravity of everything they had yet to say. But as he stood and made his way to the door, he knew one thing for certain:

Maybe they weren’t together yet, maybe they weren’t even sure what they were. But somewhere in that café, in that unspoken moment, there was something real between them, something neither of them was ready to walk away from.

And for the first time in years, Jungwon allowed himself to believe that they were walking toward something worth waiting for.

[hockeyshmockey]

Lance Stroll- Biggest Champion

summary: a moment between the oldest wolff and lance after some scary moments in Qatar. lance stroll x wolff reader

warnings: talk about the medical issues in qatar!

wc: 1.1k

“Papa,” you said worriedly as you say next to Toto in the Mercedes garage in Qatar. Since you had begun seeing Lance, throughout this season, the set up usually was you watching your boyfriend and friends race from the Mercedes garage and stepping out to see Lance pre and post race. Unless Chloe was in town where the two of you could be found giggling in the Aston garage, this seemed to work for the two of you.

That day in Qatar had been otherworldly hot. Lance had not been having the greatest weekend, taking ice baths every hour it seemed like and spending a lot of time in his drivers room trying to work through his frustrations. You had joined him some of the time, offering him silent comfort which seemed to be what he needed with all the pressure sitting on his shoulders.

As you and Toto stared at the screens showing several onboards and now sharing Logan’s voluntary retirement, your worry crept up for not only Lance, but your friends as well. A hand fell on your shoulder, squeezing to offer support as Lewis joined your little group. Carmen was standing off to the side with George’s trainer, chewing on her nail as she shared similar worries about her boy in the drivers seat.

“I really can’t believe this,” Lewis shook his head as Logan was wheeled into the Williams garage. “This is so dangerous. The FIA can't let this happen again.”

The group all watched as more and more drivers chimed in over the radios about not feeling well. Alonso pretty much asking his team to throw water over him on his last pit, which they couldn’t do. After another round of Max crossing the line first, finally some relief hit as the groups shoulders lifted knowing their final driver and friends would be getting out of the cars soon.

Watching the other team onboards which your father kept on a separate screen for your benefit, you winced as you watched Alex have to be assisted out of his car. Switching over to Lances, you watched as he sat in his car for a minute before trying to haul himself out. You felt slight relief as he made it from the car, leaning over by the tire for a second. But that relief was short lived.

As you saw him stumble, you gasped, hand covering your mouth as your father frowned, the two of you watching as Lance’s knees buckled and sent him fumbling into the door of the ambulance. Toto put a hand on your back as you both watched medical personnel approach the driver, before the feed was cut.

“Go,” Toto nodded as you looked on helplessly, taking no time before hightailing it from the Mercedes garage to the Aston Martin one down the row.

“Is he ok?” You asked breathlessly as you saw Lawrence and Lance's Engineer standing together with matching frowns.

“He had some trouble with the heat,” Lawrence said as he put a hand on your shoulder in sympathy. “He didn’t look too good getting out of the car but they took him right to the medical center.”

“Will they let us in?” You immediately asked.

“I’ve got to wait for Fernando,” Lawrence sighed, looking over at Ben and Henry. “I think they’ll let Henry in, you want to go with him and work that charm? Check on our boy?”

“I’m on it,” you smiled weakly as Henry nodded, leading you out of the garage to where he grabbed an Aston golf cart and drove you over to the medical center. Considering the state of the drivers, the usually calm area was a mad house with other team members, drivers, and some partners as well.

You followed Henry’s lead as he walked up to one of the track workers. The two spoke for a moment, Henry gesturing over his shoulder to you. As the worker saw you wringing your hands and the clear worry on your face, her own expression softened and she nodded before pointing down the hall.

You hurried after Henry, keeping up with his long strides as the two of you approached a curtained off area. Henry peeked his head in before pulling back the sheets, showing your boyfriend sitting on the bed in no shirt and just his fire proof bottoms.

“Hey mate,” Henry said as he approached the bed, clapping Lances shoulder as the boy smiled up at him tiredly. “Boss man couldn’t get away but wanted us to make sure to come check on ya.”

“I’m alright,” Lance said, his words slightly slurred with exhaustion as he looked past Henry towards you. He reached out a hand, you immediately rushing over to grab it in both of yours. “Just exhausted. They’ve got me on some fluids right now.”

“Some good rest and food will get you right,” Henry squeezed his shoulder before looking back at you. “We’ll I’ll leave you and report back to Lawrence. You both should be able to get back to the garage but if not give me a shout, I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you Henry,” you said softly as he smiled at the both of you before heading back out the way he came. You took a long second now that you were alone to let your eyes take in all of Lance’s face- skin sweaty, eyes tired.

“I really am ok,” he murmured, cupping your cheek as he saw the unshed tears on your lash line. You nuzzled in to his touch, letting out a sigh as you felt some of the weight on your shoulders lift just having him in front of you.

“I’m glad, it was scary out there,” you rasped out, looking at him once more. “A few other guys apparently passed out in the mc post race.”

“God this should’ve never happened,” Lance shook his head. Any further talking was put on pause as a nurse shuffled in, taking stock of Lances IV drip and telling him he would still be here for another hour or so for observation.

“I know I wasn’t at my best this weekend,” Lance admitted thickly. “And I’ve got some apologies to make. But being in the car, feeling like I could’ve gone off at any moment. All I could think about was getting back to you. And telling you how much I adore you, and that I don’t say it enough, but I’m really thankful for you and everything you do for me.”

“Oh schatz,” you said as you leaned in teary eyed again, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re doing your best. Your frustration is something everyone understands, we just need to find better ways for you to express it. There is nothing I would change about you. I love you and I love being your biggest champion. There’s no getting rid of me.”

“I love you,” he smiled tiredly, pursing his lips with a pout till you rolled your eyes and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

[happygirl2oo2]

Queer Sports Romance Books Recs For Pride Month 🌈 (all are books I've either read or currently have on my own tbr list)

Hockey

Rookie Recovery (Bobcat Boys #1) by Jemma Croft and Lex Veia [mlm]

Vancouver Orcas interconnected series by Amy Aislin [mlm]

Hometown Hero (Whistleport Hockey #1) by Declan Rhodes [mlm]

Hockey Guys interconnected series by Sarina Bowen [mlm]

Prove It by Stephanie Hoyt [mlm]

Fake Boyfriend interconnected series by Eden Finley [mlm]

Caught off Guard by Catherine Cloud [mlm]

Chicago Thunder interconnected series by Jodi Oliver [mlm]

Don't Look Down (Best Laid Plans #1) by Jessica Ann [mlm]

Hockey Ever After interconnected series by Ashlyn Kane and Morgan James [mlm]

Love & Other Inconveniences by Catherine Cloud [mlm]

Time to Shine by Rachel Reid [mlm]

Relationship Goals interconnected series by Brigham Vaughn [mlm]

Light Up the Lamp by Kit Oliver [mlm]

Puckboys interconnected series by Eden Finley and Saxon James [mlm]

Hot Shot (Orlando Storm #1) by Marissa James [mlm]

Breakaway partially-interconnected series by E.L. Massey [mlm]

Delay of Game interconnected series by Hannah Henry [mlm]

Offsides interconnected series by J.J. Mulder [mlm]

Roughing (Portland Seabirds #1) by Michaela Grey [mlm]

Stick Side interconnected series by Amy Aislin [mlm]

Let's Do This (IFU Hockey #1) by Loren Leigh [mlm]

CU Hockey interconnected series by Eden Finley and Saxon James [mlm]

Back to Center (Mohegan U Hockey #2) by Ryan Taylor and Joshua Harwood [mlm]

Penalty Box interconnected series by Ari Baran [mlm]

Shenanigans (Brooklyn Hockey #6) by Sarina Bowen [m/f with a bi mc]

The Inside Edge by Ashlyn Kane [mlm]

Icebreaker by A. L. Graziadei [mlm]

Hockey Bois by A.L. Heard [mlm]

Three Is The Luckiest Number by Catherine Cloud [mlm]

Not Over You by Samantha Wayland [mlm]

Wake Up, Nat & Darcy by Kate Cochrane [wlw]

It's a Love/Skate Relationship by Carli J. Corson [wlw]

Off the Bench Duet Series by Kimberly Knight [mlm]

Twincerely Yours by Eden Finley [mlm]

Car Racing

Pole Position by Rebecca J. Caffery [mlm]

Lights Out Series interconnected series by various authors [mlm]

Fast Love (Fast Love #1) by Kerry Lockhart [wlw]

Driven By Passion (Gamble Racing #2) by Renee Dahlia [mlm]

Redline (Redline #1) by Emma Barlowe [mlm]

Furious by Jamie Pacton and Rebecca Podos [wlw]

Bowling

The 7-10 Split by Karmen Lee [wlw]

Baseball 

The Prospects by KT Hoffman [mlm]

Batting Style by Louisa Masters [mlm]

You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian [mlm]

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes by Danielle Dawsen [mlm]

Volleyball 

We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller [wlw]

Always More (Sports #1) by Nicole Pyland [wlw]

Roller derby

Mighty Millie Novak by Elizabeth Holden [wlw]

False Start by Santana Knox [wlw]

Basketball 

How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly [wlw]

Love and Sportsball (Atlanta Cannons #1) by Meka James [wlw]

Zone Defense interconnected series by Becca Seymour [mlm]

Fencing

Fence comic series by C.S. Pacat and Joanna the Mad [mlm]

Football

One Last Play by E.B. Neal [mlm]

Coming Out on the Sidelines by Dev Hahn [wlw]

Forward Entry (Sydney Swallows #1) by Aurora Crane [mlm]

The Game (Charleston Condors #2) by Beth Bolden

Atlanta Lightning interconnected series by Riley Hart [mlm]

Fumbled Past (San Diego Seals #2) by Cecelia Storm [mlm]

Onside Kiss (Domingo #1) by Octavia Jensen [mlm]

You Started It (Fan Service Series #3) by Hinsel Meyer [mlm]

Tigers and Devils (Tigers and Devils #1) by Sean Kennedy [mlm]

Roosevelt College interconnected series by Christina Lee [mlm]

You & Me by Tal Bauer [mlm]

Crushing on the Quarterback by Baylin Crow [mlm]

Tennis

Deuce (Tennyson Bend #2) by P.T. Ambler [mlm]

Soccer

You Don't Have a Shot by Racquel Marie [wlw]

Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5) by Chloe Liese [mlm]

Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner [wlw]

Pull Me Under by Zarah Detand [mlm]

The Game Changer (Denver Defiant, #1) by Finley Chuva [wlw]

I Like Me Better by Robby Weber [mlm]

Finding a Keeper (Sports #4) by Nicole Pyland [wlw]

Don't Hate the Player by Shelby Elizabeth [mlm]

Endgame by Zoe Reed [wlw]

Hotshot by Clare Lydon [wlw]

Rugby

Attractive Forces by Jax Calder [mlm]

The Tighthead (Lincoln Knights #1) by Charlie Novak [mlm]

Softball

The Unexpected Dream (Sports #3) by Nicole Pyland [wlw]

Chess

Always the Almost by Edward Underhill [trans boy x boy]

Wrestling 

Alondra by Gina Femia [bisexual girl mc]

Lacrosse 

Catch and Cradle by Katia Rose [wlw]

Swimming

Tears in the Water Margherita Scialla [LGBTQ+]

Badminton

Shy by Ashish Rastogi [mlm]

[charliedaltonswife]

henry giving the sapphos copy and getting mad they haven’t read it in years JUICY STUFF

Read You

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

i legit dont know if this is good but hope you like it!!!

Summary: read the request

Warnings: mmm nothing???

master list found here

There were books one read and forgot, and there were books one remembered forever; not necessarily because of their content, but because of who had placed them in one’s hands.

You still remember the day Henry gave it to you.

It had been winter, one of those gray afternoons where the cold seeped into the bones, refusing to be shaken off. We had just left the library, the hush of it still clinging to us, the scent of old paper and dust lingering in the folds of our coats. The sun had barely risen all day, and now it was dissolving into the horizon, throwing up weak pinks and oranges before vanishing entirely.

You were adjusting your scarf, fumbling with your gloves, when he reached into his coat pocket and pulled it out; a thin volume, bound in dark blue cloth, the spine embossed with faded gold lettering. Sappho.

He held it between two fingers, not offering it so much as presenting it, as though expecting you to recognize its significance immediately. You don’t know why he was so awfully aloof about gift giving, sometimes it made you mad thinking about it. 

You didn’t take it at first, thinking he just wanted you to hold his books like an assistant, which you was far from willing to do. 

“What’s this?” you asked him, your eyebrows raised as you looked up at him.

“What do you think? It’s a book.” His voice was so flat it took you a second to realize he was mocking you. You scowled and took it, turning it over in your hands. The cover was cool against your fingertips, worn soft at the edges, as though it had been handled often but carefully. "You should read it.”

“Why? Any reason why you’re giving me something without any occasion?” You said, placing it in your bag. 

There was a slight pause, something Henry often did. That’s something you liked about Henry, he thought very carefully before speaking, only saying what was absolutely necessary. “Because I am telling you to.”

There was no further explanation. That’s all you were going to get from him and you accepted that - his command.

You should have read it that night, or the next. But you didn’t. Instead, you placed it on my desk, then moved it to my bedside table, where it sat untouched for weeks, then months. Eventually, it found its way onto your bookshelf, slotted between other books you had meant to read but never quite had.

Time passed. The semester ended, then another. The book gathered dust, forgotten.

It’s not that you didn’t want to read it or that you didn’t appreciate his gesture, you had flicked through it one night. But you were struggling with all the reading material from your classes and spending time with the group. Particularly taxing in its nature was the fasting that we were doing for the bacchanal, all of the preparation. So the book went untouched. 

-

You don’t remember exactly how Henry found out. Maybe he saw it one afternoon, haphazardly stacked among a pile of papers, the spine barely cracked and the pages still stiff with disuse. Or maybe you let it slip in conversation, some careless remark, some offhand comment that revealed what he already suspected.

However it happened, you knew the moment he knew.

It was late afternoon, the kind of hour when everything was cast in long, melancholic light. You were in Henry’s study, sitting opposite each other at the wooden table, the air thick with the smell of old books and burning cigarettes. The window beside him framed his profile in fading gold, but there was nothing warm in his expression.

His gaze flickered down, settled on the book lying near your elbow. His voice, when it came, was quiet and a little unease, catching you off guard almost immediately. “You haven't read it.”

You glanced up. "Care to give any context to this allegation darling?" You usually eased any tension with humor but you did not see a glint of recognition in his features nor received a snarky comment back. 

“You haven't read it.” He said it as though confirming something inevitable. “Sappho, I gave you a copy years ago.” 

You exhaled through my nose, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course I have, don't be absurd.”

He reached into the drawer and took out the copy that was supposed to be miles away on your shelf, his fingers brushed the cover, the touch deceptively light. His expression did not change. "Lying is beneath you."

"Oh, for God’s sake, Henry,” You sighed, “You went through my dorm and took it? And I have read it for crying out loud.”

“Spare me.” His voice cut through mine, sharp and precise. “You read a page, maybe two. Flipped through it like a catalogue, found it too much effort, and let it sit there collecting dust.”

You felt something bristle inside you. "I read some of it."

“Some.” He repeated the word like it disgusted him.

“Yes, some. You never asked about it again, why all the sudden interest in my reading habits. Was I supposed to write you an essay? Provide a thesis?”

His jaw tightened. “You were supposed to understand. I didn’t know you were that entitled that you can’t even appreciate the gifts people give to you; or maybe you’re not as intelligent as I thought you were to try to find a greater depth to gestures. Maybe you’re both.”

“Oh don’t start with me,” But his words unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. “Understand what?”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression. “You tell me.”

Silence stretched between you. The book lay between you like a drawn weapon, an accusation, an indictment.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Are you serious? You're actually angry about this?"

His jaw tightened. "Yes."

"You’re being ridiculous."

"And you’re being selfish."

You had had enough, and his words sent you over the edge of your patience.

"Excuse me?" You said, heat flaring beneath your ribs.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping, measured but seething. "I gave you something important. I put it in your hands, expecting, naively, it seems, that you would give it the respect it deserved. Instead, you abandoned it like a half-read magazine. Like it meant nothing."

You scoffed. "Oh, I’m sorry, did I commit literary blasphemy by not devouring your little offering on command? Christ, Henry, you act like I burned it in the town square."

His mouth pressed into a hard line. "You don’t get it."

"No, Henry, I think I get it just fine. You wanted me to read it, to absorb whatever grand message you thought I’d find in it, and because I didn’t, because I failed some imaginary test, you’re punishing me for it."

His hand curled into a fist against the table. "You really think this is about me proving a point?"

"Yes!" You snapped, exasperated. "Because everything with you is a test, isn’t it? Everything is measured, weighed, judged. And if I don’t perform exactly how you expect, if I don’t see things exactly how you want me to, then I’ve failed, then I’m not worthy of your time, or your respect."

"It wasn't a test." His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. "It was a gift."

That took the fight out of you for half a second.

I stared at him, breathing unevenly.

"A gift," You repeated, almost bitterly.

"Yes."

"Well, forgive me if I didn’t realize it was meant to be treated like the fucking Ark of the Covenant."

His grip tightening on the book as he exhaled sharply, like he was trying to level himself. Then, his eyes met yours, and his next words struck with precision.

"You are the most brilliant person I know. But sometimes, you are so," He cut himself off, shaking his head slightly, as if the sheer force of what he wanted to say was too much. "So stupid."

You blinked. For a moment, the words didn’t quite register, like hearing something underwater, warped and distant. There was a delay, a beat of silence where your brain tried to fold them into something less sharp, less wounding, but they resisted translation. They remained exactly as they were.

Stupid.

A heat crawled up the back of your neck, not quite anger, not quite humiliation, but something between the two, something molten, something volatile. You thought, absurdly, of a wasp trapped against a windowpane, its wings beating frantically against the glass. The invisible barrier between intention and action.

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly.”

"You heard me." His voice was low, almost quiet. "You don’t even see what’s right in front of you."

Anger and confusion twisted in your gut. "What the hell does that mean?"

He didn’t answer. Just stared at you, his gaze barely readable, mouth pressed into a tight line.

You wanted to demand an answer, push him until he cracked, that's what you usually did. Instead, you reached forward and snatched the book from his hands, shoving it into my bag with a force that made my papers crumple.

"Fine," you said, voice sharp as glass. "You want me to read it? I’ll read it."

Henry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, like he couldn’t decide if he was amused or disgusted. "Don’t do it out of spite."

"Oh, fuck off, Henry."

And with that, you stood, slinging my bag over your shoulder, your pulse hammering.

So that’s what you did; you went straight home, not stopping for an instant. You stayed up through the night to read the book. And what this accomplished one may ask. Well, that would bring us to the moment you stormed through Henry’s door, the house dark when you arrived.

Not empty, Henry wasn’t the type to leave his lamps burning in his absence, and besides, you had seen the faint sliver of light from the street, the soft glow seeping between the curtains. You hadn’t planned to come here, hadn’t even thought about it. You had finished the book an hour ago, the last line burning itself into your mind like an afterimage on the retina, and then, somehow, you had found yourself here, your hands cold and your breath uneven, gripping the thin blue volume like it was evidence.

You knocked, sharply, twice on the door of his sitting room. You weren't sure why you suddenly found yourself respecting his boundaries of his study after barging into his house. Then, because patience had never been your virtue, you let yourself in.

He looked up at the sound of the door closing, and his brow furrowed when he saw you. He didn’t rise, but his posture shifted, a slight straightening of the spine, an alertness that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

You crossed the room in three strides and slammed Sappho down onto the table between you.

"What the hell did you mean?" Your voice was sharp but uneven, wavering with emotions you wanted to keep deep within but were battling your will. You were breathing too hard, like you had run here instead of walked. The book wobbled slightly before settling, its weight undeniable, its presence impossible to ignore.

Henry didn’t flinch. He regarded you with that same unreadable expression, the same irritating calm he always wore like armor.

"You’ll have to be more specific," he said calmly.

"Don’t," You pointed at the book, your hand unsteady. "act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about."

A long pause. Then, deliberately, he leaned forward, setting his own book aside. "You finally read it, then."

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "What is it, some sort of test? Some ridiculous, arrogant game where you wait to see if I figure it out?"

Henry sighed, running a hand over his face, and for the first time, he looked tired. Not the kind of tiredness that came from lack of sleep, but something deeper, something worn thin.

"You’re angry," he said.

"I am confused," you shot back. "You gave me that book like it was supposed to mean something. And I read it, Henry, I read all of it, and now I can’t stop thinking about it, about why you-"

You broke off, swallowing hard. The words tangled in your throat, too much, too raw. Henry was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, measured. "And what did you decide?"

Your breath hitched. Because that was it, wasn’t it? That was the heart of it. The question he had been waiting for you to answer, not with words, but with understanding. You sank into the chair across from him, suddenly exhausted. Henry didn’t push, that’s something that you appreciated greatly between you two. He just watched, waiting. You reached for the book again, fingers tracing the worn edge of the cover.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your palms against the table, grounding yourself. "I don’t know what to do with this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if what I think is correct, I don’t know if I can read you Henry.”

Henry studied you for a long moment. Then, finally, he reached across the table, fingers brushing against the spine of the book, against your hand.

"You do darling," he said. “You always do.”

a/n: im so sorry if i take a little longer on requests, there are quite a few but i love them all. ALSO im so excited to do the next request, someone wants angst crossed with a Phoebe Bridgers song and i fw that so hard

[confiscatedpeaches]

can i request william brat taming reader?? afab plss and i LOVE your writing!! tysm!!

ofc!! thank you so much for the complement! I love the thought of William brat taming, I bet he'd be really good at it. (Also this lowkey turned into a really long fic lmao so I AM going to write a part 2 tomorrow aaaah)

Minors DNI, TW: bdsm dom/sub bratty!reader, reader is wearing a collar, use of restraints

Afton comes home from work and it has NOT been a good day.

You knew the signs; the sound of his car door slamming, his shoes practically stomping onto the pavement below, and swearing as he fumbled for his keys. Today was not a good day at work for Mr. Afton. He was positively furious about something, and you knew he was going to take all of his frustration out on you. Of all the days you could have chosen to be a brat, this should not have been one of them.

You look into the living room and find him pacing furiously, muttering something to himself about "Henry" and "those god-damned parents". Noticing you out of the corner of his eye, he turns to look at you.

"You. Come over here right now."

You fold your arms. Why should you come over, when it's so adorable to watch him pace his way into a hole in the rug? Absolutely not. Part of you loved when he was like this, the angrier he got, the more fun he would have with you later.

"Awe my little whore thinks she's in charge. Get over here, now."

You should have listened. Really, you should have. But you just couldn't help your bratty ass now could you. Instead, you decide to commit the worst sin according to your Mr. Afton, you stick out your tongue.

He scoffed, his face getting redder. His head cocked to the side.

"You're feeling brave today aren't you love? Keep it up and see what happens."

God, you loved how his accent became thicker with rage. Sometimes you could barely understand the man. Watching him unravel into a mess of words and animalistic sounds drove you absolutely mad. Seeing him lose himself in you was such a thrill. You really, really should give in now, before this became much worse.

"Oh? What are you gonna do to me Mr. Afton? Are you gonna punish me?" You mocked.

He scowled and crossed his arms. You could practically see steam rising from out his ears.

"Yes, I am actually. Now get over here and let me spank you for being such a naughty little bunny."

Even after he raised his voice, you continue to refuse.

"Do I have to come and get you myself darling?"

A grin spread across your face. Was he challenging you? Oh yes, he was definitely challenging you. You were going to make him work for this. Excitement bubbles within you.

"I'd love to see you try, catch me if you can!"

You dash down the corridor and turn down one of the side halls. You hear a very loud British man begin raving and screaming behind you

"Oh you little---!

Laughter fills your ears. Your laughter, of course, but also Will's. He was laughing manically. It dawns on you that you have fucked up, big time. It was one thing for him to simply get mad and dominate you, but for him to start laughing? That's when you knew he had something truly terrible planned for you. You had to hide and wait for him to calm down, asap.

His footsteps were getting louder, closer. Turning down yet another corridor (his house is weirdly arranged, and you often find yourself lost in it), you flick on the lights and run into the basement. He has so much junk in there, there is no way he'd be able to find you if you tucked yourself away in there well enough.

Sitting in the back corner, you find the perfect place. You manage to hide yourself behind an animatronic you haven't seen him work on in ages. Holding your breath, you wait.

His footsteps stop at the top of the basement stairs. Shit, he must have seen you run into there. His ragged breath and laughter echo down the stairs, reverberating on the basement walls. He has really lost it this time.

Then, he does something unexpected. He takes a few steps down the stairs, before shutting the door behind him and flicking off the lights.

He has you trapped. You're so unfamiliar with the basement that there is no way you'd be able to navigate your way out of there without making a sound, or god forbid, bumping into him.

"Come out come out wherever you are." He sings.

Dear lord, he was feeling absolutely villainous. You knew he could be sadistic, but you've never seen him like this. You heard him shuffle, what could he be doing? Is he searching for you? Fear and arousal pool inside you.

"Aww come on little bunny, I thought you were being brave."

You could feel your heart beating in your ears. You didn't know how long you could hold or hide your breath, especially with how hot and bothered you were getting.

"Little bunny, where are you? I know you're in here. If you come out now I pinkie promise not to punish you.... too harshly."

That liar, you knew this was a fake-out. He isn't stupid enough to believe that would do the trick. You would wait him out, see who could last longer. A growing part of you wanted to submit, face the consequences, and end the torture early, but the rest of you was stubborn and wanted to see how far you could take this. You were already in deep shit, why not make it worse?

"Sweetheart... I can see you, you know."

What? There's no way, it's almost pitch black in here. Can this motherfucker see in the dark or something?!

"You're hiding behind that animatronic, I can see your feet. I can hear your breathing too love. Come out now, be a good girl."

Shit. He had you dead-to-rights. All of the stubbornness deflated out of you like a popped balloon. He won, you lost, and he knows it. You hate how wet this is making you. You wanted to win this time, but there's a reason he's the dom and you're the brat. He's just so much cleverer and smarter than you. You stood no real chance.

"Don't you want to be a good girl for Mr. Afton? Really now, I can see you curled up back there. Crawl out like the pathetic little loser you are. I'm not coming to get you this time."

The urge to submit builds within you. You know you shouldn't make this any worse for yourself. Reluctantly, you slide out from your secure hiding place. A light illuminates your figure. You see him sitting on the second to last step of the staircase, flashlight in hand.

"Ah, there you are. Come over here, now."

Before you can resist, you find yourself walking towards him. You were too tired to fight anymore.

"Good girl, now get on your knees."

You obey. His hand thrusts towards you and grabs you by your collar.

"Gotch'ya you little bitch! How dare you disrespect me?! You stupid little whore, there's at least a dozen animatronics down here, I just guessed you were hiding behind one! It's time to face the consequences doll."

(Part 2 coming tomorrow -- am too tired to write more tonight.)

[britishzombiebunny]

How the hell did you fumble Henry Emily so badly Mr. Afton?

The guy already liked you

like come on!

Bruh he got mad cus I accidentally killed his daughter like I just wanted my five dollars 😭

[ohmyplasticstars]

JOY OF NOSTALGIA

(Random piece of dsaf writting idk)

imagine Henry actually fainted from the injury, and like survives the fight, and now that he's truly alone breaks into a sob, because he can't hold himself anymore (also nobody will see him anyway) his head is throbbing in pain, he covers his face in shame of his own weakness his wound bleeds into his hands, he looks at his pink hands, they are crimson with blood, quite a common sight for him only ussualy it's someone else's blood

He hasn't seen his own blood in quite a while now he breaks into a sob again

And like after hours of sobbing he like feels something hard pressing against his chest and that snaps him out of his pity party and he fumbles in his suit to find many bear pins

And somehow they shine for some reason, each a different colour

Each representative of a different moment of his life, he looks at each of them remembering the memories attached to these little dinky charming metal trinkets

And he finds a gold one, it's his very first pin, he got it with his very first pay check, well he's always been earning ever since he could walk and talk, nothing comes for free after all

But this paycheck was different he wasn't burdened by his father's needs, that old man died decades ago. And he decided to part some of it to buy something for himself, something that will last, a reminder, a celebration, and cheap after all he isn't rolling in cash yet

He notices a vendor selling dinky items in a box, and he sees a bear pin it's very cute, it's the head of a white cute bear with closed eyes and baby pink cheeks and a little smile how peaceful

He wonders if he should get it, he debates for a while standing there, at the street till he decides not to, but eventually reverses back to buy it

Since it's super cheap.

It's been with him ever since perhaps one of the only things which has never left him

It shines gold with pride and hope cutting through the agonizing misery and darkness of the void like a golden oil lamp

Something he'd study under if he was still in college and the electricity went out

Henry remembers different pieces of his youth, oh to be free, though he admits he wasn't completely free, there were bills and exams and what not to handle

But it was definitely better than the madness of the void

He grips the bear pin hard, gold rays persist and shine through the crevices of his fist like sun light through a jail cell

His jail cell....

He can't help but find a hopeful metaphor in it

"There's alway some good after the bad Hal"

His own voice says to himself in his head, that voice is nobody's it's his own

"I choose to not cry"

Continues the voice like a command his tears turn off like a new water tap which hasn't broken down yet.

He realises there's a sting in his hand

Ouch! He poked his hand on his pin, guess he was so busy crying he forgot to lock it before gripping it

For some reason he didn't mind, maybe he was tired of crying, he definitely wasn't sad right now, atleast not in an active way

He remembered his bad time and good times

Suddenly he burst into laughter

"I ALWAYS COME BACK, I WILL COME BACK."

he laughed, he didn't know if he was being malicious, in a way it felt like a innocent challenge

All these emotions, he can't connect them he's going insane! But he's feeling happy he believes he is

After a bit of laughing and he puts his pin away into his pocket, when he notices, another pin

It's black as the void itself, it's a bear pin too, but a strange one with what looks like a dead bear on it

He can't believe his eyes, he gets on his hands and feet and wildly grabs for it

He doesn't know what it this mean

Well It definitely means something is here and something will go on

He adds the pin to his coat aswell it stains him in blood, strange

Either way, he will come back he always does he won't cry anymore, crying is for little bast@rds

He throws himself on to the floor wondering what will happen now

Sleep takes over him

I wonder if he's died

Someone watches him, he watches the whole time Henry was having his solitude

With his glazed undead eyes

But he dares not interact

===============================

Hiii yes I felt like writting a little bit

It's very random and poorly put together I know it was much more cinamatic in my head but oh well I tried

Please tell me your thoughts on it

[flownintothesun]

For muns with multiple muses, past and present, on any blog.

Rules: Fill out the form according to which muse suits each title best. (The same muse can have multiple titles.) Repost and tag. Feel free to add more!

Favorite Muse: Oh god. Do you KNOW the war that will start with these chaotic nuisances in my head if I answer that?

Most Character Development: Westley, hands down. He started out as a kind of joke of a concept and then as it turned out, I needed him. Funnily enough, @batteredoptimist came and asked me 'so about this sailor boy...' and, as it turned out, I got a Westley and a Nonny out of the deal. Which is pretty great for me. Now he's so different from the original idea I had of him — he's fully developed and it's been pretty amazing to see.

Trash Muse: *covers his ears* Westley.

The Meme-Lord: *squints* Mariano for the dad jokes, Francis unironically, and Henry (who will claim that Alex sends them more).

Most Likely to Start a War: Lucienne. Westley wants to say it's him but it's definitely Luci. Mariano is a good candidate too, tbh.

Worst Personality: skfadgfkj Howl (lovingly) or Enjolras (marble statue).

Best Singer: Marin.

Most Attractive Muse: OH GOD WHY. They're all gorgeous. Marin.

Biggest Heart: Francis.

Falls in Love Quickest: *looks at Francis and James specifically* Francis.

Most Likely to Drop Their Phone in the Toilet: Westley.

Ice Ruler: Lucienne. Mariano is over here pouting.

The Edgelord: Westley? 😅 (This is dangerous he's so mad at me.)

Most Tragic Backstory: Oof Marin and Westley.

Best Case of Puberty: I am autistic and don't understand the question oop.

Most Awkward: Mariano, actually. He fumbles all over himself when he's not acting all badass.

Busy Bee: Mariano.

Most Clueless: Francis. See also: tea.

Most Likely to Forget Their Wallet at Home: Francis or Westley for different reasons.

Best Dressed: mm...all of them? If I have to choose, Mariano.

Biggest Flirt: Westley.

Most Dramatic: oh goddddd. he's going to kill me at this point. *hides* also DEFINITELY Westley. But as for me the mun providing drama to the character, Marin.

Least Likely to Show Up Late: Mariano.

One with Weirdest Habit: Uh. I don't think any of them have any particularly weird habits? (Other than one of my Nonny-villains who I don't write on here...) but Francis taps music notes on his legs when he's stressed and hiccups when he's flustered. Westley's legs basically vibrate and he chews on his lip piercing in his modern verse.

Most Likely to Be Caught at the Gym: Mariano.

tagged by @hvbris (thank you this was soooo fun ♡) tagging everyone, do it it's so much fun

[notupforpolo]

Why the volume thing again? I guess they're seeing how successful it's been for HBO in particular, and also Disney+, byt why only commit to the bit halfway? From what I saw it wasn't actually successful with stranger things last year? I may be wrong on this but most casual watchers lost interest during the wait and more invested fans just built up expectations that were squashed. All the post-season/show critique that is inevitable came during the period where you wasn't suspense and reception to be high, because the shippers had nothing new to do, so they were being annoying, and obviously the plot wasn't resolved so people were mad at that even though it was by design at that point. Either you realise it to be consumed as binge-watching or you air it weekly (or even daily) depending on what kind of reception you want. It's different flavours but at least viewers respond as kindly as a large, diverse, group of people with accuses to the internet can.

Now, as I mentioned, I'm basing this on my what I saw last year with ST, but I'm not in the fandom so if there is data™ to prove me wrong, that realising the show in two volumes, I'd be more than happy to read it. I want the Witcher to succeed because I've really enjoyed season 1 and 2, but with Henry leaving there are a lot of people who will drop the show anyway. I don't want Netflix to fumble the bag this season.

[nihtscada]

woahh, mini rant on my thoughts of this trailer, as the resident tumblr "comic book guy"

It was brilliant, and the only people mad are Snyder dick riders. "HE WONT BEAT HENRY CAVILL THOUGH!!" he's not meant to be "beating" anyone, just like how Henry Cavill never "beat" Christopher Reeves, they're all different takes on the man of steel.

Snyder wanted to make his own universe, James Gunn is adapting the comics. Superman was never meant to be dark. He's meant to be the day, and Batman is the night, not BOTH of them.

"W-well look at the horrible green lantern, his hair looks stupid!!!" mate, have you ever picked up a comic in your life? That's Guy Gardener, his hair has HISTORICALLY sucked, it's supposed to look like that!!

Plus he genuinely looks like Clark Kent and portrays it much more accurate. He's a shy fumbling reporter.

Save your criticism until you've seen the movie. It's only the TRAILER for crying out loud.

Aaaand Krypto was adorable. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

David Corenswet as Superman/Clark Kent

Superman (2025) dir. James Gunn

[fumikomiyasaki]

Meet + a library

Chizuko and Ismene (since both girls are bookworms on various)

Location prompts

Fuck it also for my selfindulgence I do three

Usually the Library in itself was an uninteresting location for him.... if he needed information he would go to other people and play his charms to get what he wanted... however he had another reason to go there that day... he knew his dear Onyx was lurking there a lot of times and his longing was more important than his lack of interest... and its not like he didn't read... his taste was just novels based on movies or things that help him with his acting. Eventually throughout NRCS halls he noticed something curious... slight stains on the walls, places that were off limits... like a destruction occured here. Yet some shelves where pulled up and filled again as he saw Chizuko with her back turned sit on the couch reading a deeper story, fully ignoring everything around her.

Yet despite him thinking he could surprise her she spoke up soon.

"You always have to follow me, birdbrain... what a pain."

"I only am here for a infamous Samurai novel for Nano... and who else to ask then my smart, wellversed dear Onyx."

"Ask someone else, I am busy..."

She continued to read on in her book and ignore him but Flynn still wanted to get her attention somehow even if it meant just looking over her shoulder and reading the paragraphs with her...

"I see his actions are very predictable."

"What are you mumbling about?"

"He says that sentence to fake his identity... he was the one who disspaeared."

"You... How did you know?"

"Cause I read this book a while back?"

She slightly hit him on the head. "Nobody likes Spoilers."

"My but you don't know if I am telling the truth, that is the fun in it."

"If you are only going to interupt me you can leave... stop bothering me."

"Or how about you take a break with me and won't tell you more about this book?"

"You moron... that is blackmail."

She was about to get mad at him again as he spoke up.

"I won't bother you anymore but I would gladly another day make you some of my own recommendations of books that do it better to be less predictable."

And with these words he left... she hated that she was intrigued what kinda books he meant... but decided to ignore him for now.

An annoyed sigh escaped Leroy... he wish he could have gone to a book store for Manga instead but it was a holiday so everything was closed... and so he decided to visit the Library instead and see what kinda gems of books they had to offer... he practically could hear Henrys voice in his head. "Make sure to learn about the new machine, maybe look at the manual." Boring...

Scouting the Library he was surprised to see Ismene here however... reading something in front of a shelf... a smirk left his lips... might as well sneak up and greet her... however in doing that she turned around as he leaned his arm on the shelf behind her and it let to her blushing cause he was so up close... seconds later he realized the situation too and backed off.

"S-sorry just wanted to surprise you..."

"I-Its fine... you just scared me by accident.... h-hello Leroy."

The two of them fumbled awkwardly as Leroy put his hands behind his head and smiled.

"Whatcha reading, Izzy?"

"Just some manuals on some parts."

"Not you too.. how can you endure some of this really?"

"Hm.... I j-just think reading it will make me understand how it works... sure its not like a good story but... its usefull."

"Fine... I should read some for the dorm work too but I just don't feel motivated."

She put her finger up as if having and idea... and then asked him to follow her to a table... so they could both sit next to another.

"How about you try to read it with me nearby and when you l-lose motivation we talk a little?"

"That.... sounds actually nice... alright I will do my best for you then!"

And so they both had a casual good afternoon where Leroy got more further than he did with his mindset before.

Her heart was a little uneasy taking this step... to return to "the scene of the crime"... she did love the library but since her overblot this was the first time she ever stepped back into the this place again... with a heavy feeling of regret... looking at some of the leftover damage she caused previously... as her head hung low... she was still a little weak on her legs... wounds haven't healed fully but enough that she could walk out the infirmary... yet as she turned around a familar face made her smile again.

"Keisuke... its good to see you."

"I... wanted to see you in the infirmary but... you can walk?"

"Lightly... I need a little walk at least."

He offered his arm which she leaned a little against... showing him a weak smile.

"To think how worse I could have destroyed this place... it frightens me."

"I... kinda guessed you would overthink things again so... I brought you something."

Keisuke took out a can Apple grape soda and handed it to her as she met him with a soft smile.

"You really went out of your way to get my favourite?"

"I had time between getting some surplies... but seriously you don't look so good, you should rest back in bed."

She sighed and slightly wrapped a hug around him.

"Thank you so much.... that you still care for me despite seeing me like this... Kei..."

His face was red a little from the sudden affection as he looked away from her.

"Its nothing... now lets get you back to rest."

[dobiemart]

meant to be

pairing, peter ballard, henry creel, or 001 x reader

summary, after wandering out of your room when peter instructed you to wait, you see a side of him that you'd never expect.

or

peter's doll never strays too far from his grasp.

word count, 1.1k

byr, first actual fic or smth like that ahrhagaha

also kinda mad at myself cause the reader barely gets a personality other than saying peters name but ILL DELIVER NEXT TIME I SWEAR

(p.s. if you see a spelling or grammar mistake no tf you didnt.)

warnings, angst(?), pet names, pretty detailed gore, mentions of death, mentions of peters abuse, my goofy ahh writing, peter being too fine for anybody to handle.

you sprinted as fast as you could through the everlasting labs hallway, eventually reaching a storage room and slamming the door shut and fumbling for the lock. peter, being thin but still surely in shape, wasn’t far behind.

“all is forgiven, darling. c’mon. y’know i dont hold grudges for long.” peter taunted while slamming into the door a second after it was closed, barely winded from the chase. as you shuffled against the wooden barricade of the monochromatic room, you blankly remembered how you ended up in this situation.

earlier in the day, he’d asked for you to wait for him in your room. not giving a specific reason. you’d thought he simply wanted to spend time with you during a break he had on a shift. after a while of shifting on your well made bed, you decided to go look for him. it never usually took this long for him to return, so you’d started to worry something had happened with dr. brenner or some of the children in the rainbow room.

as you quickly shuffled out of the room, the sound of the door clicking back into place reverberating on the walls. slowly starting your stroll through the emptiness of the colorless corridors, you realized it was somehow quieter than it usually was. no usual “chit-chatting” went on during shifts other than greetings to other orderlies. none of them were in sight either, bringing your suspension levels to an all time high. picking up your pace, you rushed to the only brightly colored room in the facility and froze immediately in your tracks. the smell of metal slapped your sinuses damn near silly as your gaze finally took in the scene.

the subjected children were splayed across the room, their blood draped in blotches on the walls. the bodies themselves having crimson gapes where their eyes would be. the usual slightly joyful energy of the room turned dark and stuffy. the fear of ending up like the young test subjects clouded your mind. your eyes had flicked from child to child, corner to corner, eventually reaching the cause of this brutal massacre.

there peter stood, bone chillingly calm as he slowly sauntered towards your favorite facilitated child, his back ever so slightly flexing against the white of his crisply ironed uniform. 011 was always a sweet girl. she’d stand near you anytime you’d visit the rainbow room, draw things that would remind her of your usual calm, collected attitude, and sometimes tried to communicate if she could get away with it without the flashing red lights of the camera burning into the back of her head. she looked just as terrified of the man in front of her as you did. the genuine fear in her eyes made your heart fully drop to the pit of your stomach.

peter had interacted with 011 a select amount of times before, as papa didn’t appreciate anybody speaking to his “prized child” if they weren’t himself. always having his soft smile splayed across his rosy lips, fitting in just right with his golden retriever face. they seemingly had some bond to each other in a way nobody else understood. you never questioned why peter would bring up her abilities in random late night conversations, or why he’d favor her over the other children, thinking he’d just taken fondness to the young girl.

she slowly backed away as he hunted towards her, having an obvious advantage with his longer legs. ultimately she’d backed up too far, hitting the two-way mirror. his lengthy monologue he’d been reciting to the girl was muffled in your ears as you mumbled out a “...peter?” so quiet you couldn't even hear yourself say it.

registering your silky, heartwarming voice, his head slowly loomed over over to you, yet his body stayed still. the angle his neck was cranked at looked insanely uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice. “i asked you to wait.” he scolded, too calmly in contrast of the situation. his usual honey coated voice was stolen and replaced by a monotone sounding tone.

“peter.. i- what are you- what’s even..-“ you couldn’t form a stable sentence due to the shock of the situation and the heavy trembling in your voice. you’d never been scared of the friendly orderly you called your boyfriend. he was a lovely man. never aggressive towards the children if it wasn’t time for punishment. he took joy in being around them, taking care of them, and treating them as regular instead of test dummies as much as he could without being punished by papa. even then, he came back to you with a soft, pained smile on his face and open arms.

“you know what happens when we disobey the labs’ rules, darling.” he cut into your shakey sentence, now facing you. those blue eyes that held so much love and adoration were now in resemblance to a spider's dark orbs. dark, mysterious, and completely unreadable. never had they been like that before, and quite frankly, that was the scariest factor of them all.

before any rational response to what he’d said reached your mind, your fight or flight made a decision for you. not wasting a second, you fled, bursting out of the room and running at full speed down the corridor.

you sprinted as fast as he could through the everlasting labs hallway, eventually reaching a storage room and slamming the door shut and fumbling for the lock. peter, being thin but still surely in shape, wasn’t far behind.

“all is forgiven, darling. c’mon. y’know i dont hold grudges for long.” peter taunted while slamming into the door a second after it was closed, barely winded from the chase. as you shuffled against the wooden barricade of the monochromatic room, you folded into yourself, gripping your knees to your chest tightly.

“you know, i’d never hurt you, y/n. those bastards deserved it. keeping us all trapped in here for decades like animals, it’s over now, love. just open the door f’me.” he said with his slight smile. “it’s all okay now, we can finally escape. just you and me as it was meant to be. open the door and we can get out of here.”

his grin was still growing at the thought of leaving this reached prison. he was ready to wisp you away into the real world and show you what the world offered. he only wanted the best for you. for himself. for both of you. and now that 011 granted his powerful abilities to roam free yet again, he’d do exactly that.

AAAAARGAHSVKF THIS TOOK ME A LIL BIT TOO LONG FOR MY LIKING BUT THATS FINE IG

lmk if i should actually start posting my shitty ass mf blurbs i make when im tired or want a stranger things man to plow my shit for 70 minutes in 17 thousand different positions okay GOODNIGHT PALDBEKBD

-cora :)

© dobiemart 2022

[roamwithahungryheart]

This has been sitting in my drafts for days, so I'm posting it!

A drabble inspired by that MuscleTech IG post...

A frustrated screech echoed through the empty house.

It was supposed to be a quick, innocent afternoon scroll through Instagram. Steam billowed from the coffee machine as you filled your cup.

That bastard.

Flipping back and forth through the pictures, you made sure to take screenshots as incriminating evidence of Henry’s betrayal. There he was in all his tall, toned glory, his workout gear like a second skin against the contours of the broad body you knew so well. The hair that had been a mess of fluffy curls this morning was now matted and plastered to his forehead. His skin was dewy and he was visibly out of breath. At the sight of this, so were you.

You quickly sipped your coffee, wincing as you burned your tongue. Setting the cup down on the kitchen counter, you deliberated over sending a text.

No, you were going to call him.

You tapped your foot as the phone rang continuously, expecting it to go straight to voicemail. Then, without giving him a chance to speak as the line connected –

“You said you were at the gym.”

“I said I was working out.”

“Not for an ad campaign! You woke up and chose violence today, Cavill. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“You’re mad at me aren’t you?” You could hear his smirk through the phone. “I like it when you’re angry.”

“Oh shut up.” You chided. “You could’ve told me about this, y’know.”

“I could’ve, but I knew how riled up you’d get knowing you couldn’t see me.”

Your chest began to heave, heat spreading through your core. “Just so you know, my vibrator is fully charged, so if you’re not home soon…”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Maybe.” You placed one hand on your waist and slackened your hip. “Either you hop to it or my friend Rabbit will.”

Ending the call, you gulped your coffee and tucked your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants. Heading up to the bedroom, you rifled through the closet as the midday heat intensified, changing into Henry’s Kansas City Chiefs shirt. Stepping out of your sweatpants, you relished the feeling of cool, fresh air on your bare legs. Reaching into the back of the closet, you fumbled for the plain cardboard box nestled between two shoe boxes.

Lips twisted in thought, you tilted the box in your hands. With a click of your tongue, you took hold of the vibrator and positioned yourself comfortably on the king-size bed. The bedroom door opened with a soft click and your gaze snapped from the ceiling to the doorway.

“That won’t be necessary.”

@littlefreya @harrysthiccthighss @foodieforthoughts @autumnrose-40 @cavillsbestgal @myloveforhenrycavill @cherry-gemz @blowing-mikey @pussyverson @viking-raider @demivampirew @zealoushound @keanureevesisbae @littlewrenofrivia @beck07990 @christhickevans @luna-aestas @luclittlepond @kebabgirl67 @angreav @omgkatinka @lharrietg @fallenangelbb @mostly-marvel-musings @cavillsharman @littlebirdofrivia @angelcavill66 @jolly-polly @darklydeliciousdesires @henrys-little-princess @wheretheriversrunintothesea @herefortherealdeal @cavills-little-princess @mis-lil-red @mansaaay @thwick @marytudorbrandon @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @nerdyoldsoul @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @aletheladyinred @thereisa8ella​ @janenyfl @summersong69 @miss-rebel-without-applause @abschaffer2 @scorpiobitch95 @sillyrabbit81 @captainsy-cookiemonster

[leafmint-does-a-meow]

getting angry at the female characters because they “get in the way” of a queer reading of the text without critiquing those same adaptations for forcing them into victimhood is all too common in the Jekyll and Hyde fandom

You have a point there. Honestly my og post was made 'cus I'm just mad that in the decades that the story has been free domain there has never been a recreation made (to my knowledge) where Utterson and Jekyll are romantically involved and that sucks.

ik that's what fanfiction is for but we really out here doing all the work when producers would rather kill off women instead and say 'it's plot'.

I actually really liked the role played by Jackman's wife in the show Jekyll, but the way Moffat fumbled that show's ending means I am incensed every time I think about it. (and even then you have Hyde's therapist thirsting after him...)

I also read the book Mary Reilly and seem to recall being left underwhelmed. I've also read My Dear Henry, which was sweet but kinda read like AO3 fanfiction.

There's definitely a significant issue in the media industry where women are brutalised under the 'shield' of fiction and I feel like the relation between J+H and the Ripper is made use of to abuse that.

Stevenson: so here’s my story. The main character is a lawyer called Utterson, we barely see Jekyll or Hyde and there are barely any women, just vague homosexual undertones.

Every film, musical and show producer: Utterson? Never heard of him. Anyways, here’s a whole recreation exclusively from Jekyll and Hyde’s POV, with female love interests and dead sex workers.

[nanoland]

Hopeless Henry, by TJ Land

the title: Hopeless Henry

the deets: M/M, romance + drama, novella

the blurb:

Henry, the village carpenter, keeps to himself. Having lived in the small rural village of Charlestown all his life, he’s garnered a reputation for being honourable, hard-working, and quiet. No wife; few friends. Not one to make a fuss. The ideal neighbour. 

For which reason the rest of the village is willingly to overlook the fact that he’s involved in a torrid love affair with another man and leading a low-key war against the local church.

Then, one day, a catastrophe occurs. The village’s slow-paced existence is thrown into chaos. And Henry finds himself on the short list of people able to help make things right.

the link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B087M7JQMJ

the extract:

The mayor’s was the only house in the village with a proper garden.

The baker had a single fig tree and the mad widow had a bare stretch of earth in which nothing but weeds would grow, but the mayor’s garden boasted eight rows of marigolds, each with its own separate and meticulously maintained bed, and a plump red rose bush squatting by the front door.

The mayor’s was also the only house with an actual bell for visitors to ring, and when Henry rang it, Vincent appeared at the door.

“What’s this? Another one?” he snapped.

“No, this is about the same one,” said Henry. “I need to speak to the mayor.”

Idly, Vincent picked at a spot below his lower lip. “Don’t think she needs to speak to you. And she’s busy today.”

“Busy? Come off it, Vincent, we both know she doesn’t actually do anything,” Henry snapped, for the day was growing long and his arms ached wretchedly.

Vincent’s right eye narrowed. “That sounds very much like slander, Mister Adage. Slander and insubordination.”

“Insubordination’s only a crime in the army, Vincent.”

Henry wasn’t entirely certain that was the case, granted, but he did know Vincent often fumbled words in his attempts to sound clever.

the cover: 

[everwitch-magiks]

Controlled Experiment / Try Me On For Size

@clottedcreamfudge and myself gifted a pair of fics for bleedingballroomfloor on her birthday! Controlled Experiment by clottedcreamfudge

Basically, what it boils down to is this; Alex is mostly sober when he says - to a group of people he barely knows - "Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?" This statement, which is actually something he's thought about a lot, is met by general bobbing of heads, in the kind of bros-trying-to-be-chill way that usually happens when a bunch of straight guys are trying very hard to be non-toxic. That is to say, it's kind of awkward, but they get mad props for trying. The only person who isn't nodding is Henry, Pez's best friend and the only known gay man in this circle of people. Alex has no clue about the others, but he knows Henry's gay because Pez once introduced him as, "the most handsome man in all of Christendom — and before you ask, no we've never shagged, which is a damn shame. Not for lack of trying on my part, of course, but Henry's one of those gays who thinks it's bad manners to get drunk and have an inadvisable fumble with your best friend for larks.”

Try Me On For Size by everwitch

"Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?" Henry’s carefully orchestrated nonchalance melts away in an instant. He’d been about to do what he always does at these shindigs when the topic of hypothetical queerness is brought up; come out. In this strange little pocket of humanity — this full-volume version of reality filled with red solo cups and many a youth exploring their sexuality — making his preferences known has always been Henry’s most successful first step on his path towards getting laid. And Henry does, truly, want to get laid tonight; he didn’t spend well over fifteen minutes on his hair for bloody Instagram clout. His discreet but unmistakable rainbow wristband isn’t meant to signify allyship. The thing is, though, that Henry’s personal gay agenda for the night may just have taken an interesting turn; Alex wants to experiment. *** In which Alex does experiment, and Henry is a most willing participant.