#oooh i love the atmosphere in this!

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride

gothic fantasy

a man who studies myths and fairytales marries a mysterious rich woman - who marries him on the condition he never pries into her past

when her estranged aunt is dying, they go back to her childhood home - a mysterious mansion on an island - and he discovers hints of her childhood best friend who disappeared

back and forth between the bridegroom and the girls’ childhood

atmospheric, explores various fairytales, toxic female friendships

[shinygoku]

how can the world be so cruel, yet its people are so kind

find me at crown_prinxe @ twitter where I cry about my ATLA rewatch

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

Oooh I love your ot8 writings so much!! Would you be able to write one where something bad happened to the reader while the boys are away on tour , like injury or is sad or something?

ℍ𝕠𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕓𝕖𝕕𝕤

Warning: Angst/comfort/fluff

Summary: Request!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Leeknow, can you please help me put up the chandelier in the study room? I can’t study without good lighting,” Y/N pouted, her eyes wide and pleading as she begged her boyfriend for help.

“Yeah, baby, as soon as I’m done with this,” Leeknow replied absently, barely glancing up from his laptop. He was deeply focused on reviewing and choreographing new dance moves for their upcoming tour. Y/N frowned at his lack of attention and decided to find someone else.

“Channie-Oppa,” she called softly, knocking on the door to his studio.

“Come in, babygirl!” Chan’s voice came from the other side, warm and welcoming. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, spotting Han and Changbin working at a table covered in papers.

“Hey, baby,” Chan said, pulling her onto his lap as she entered. “What can I do for you today?” He rested his cheek against hers, giving her a moment of comfort.

“Can one of you help me put up the chandelier in the study room? I asked Leeknow, but he seems too busy,” she pouted, giving them her best doe eyes.

“Tsssk, maybe not right now, bunny,” Changbin said, brushing his fingers gently along her thigh before kissing her temple. “We need to finish the tracklist for the tour, yeah? Maybe in a bit?”

“Binnie’s right,” Chan added, looking apologetic. “We’re really kind of swamped right now. Maybe in a few hours?”

Y/N huffed in frustration and slid off his lap, crossing her arms. “I don’t like that attitude,” Chan warned, his tone teasing, but there was a flicker of seriousness in his eyes.

“You guys never have time anymore, and I really need to study!” she whined, exasperated.

“Well, if you want us to keep a roof over our heads and have the finances for those expensive cars and Birkin bags you like, we have to make some sacrifices,” Han teased, his expression lightening the mood. Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help giggling as she leaned in to peck him on the lips.

“Fine, I’ll go find someone else to do it,” she sighed, making her way toward the door.

“See you later, baby!” Chan called after her, waving as she closed the door behind her.

Determined to find help, Y/N headed to the conference room, where she found Hyunjin and I.N. along with their manager, surrounded by stacks of papers. Felix was getting measured for some new outfits.

“There are my amazing models,” she chimed, trying to bring some cheer to the tense atmosphere.

“Hey, baby! I’m so sorry, but we really can’t talk right now,” Hyunjin whispered, his expression apologetic. “We’re in a fashion week meeting.”

“Is what you need important?” he asked, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. Y/N glanced over his shoulder and realized they were indeed in a serious meeting. She cursed under her breath, then turned back to him.

“Baby, the love of my life—”

“Mhm, what do you want?” he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Here’s my card,” he said, pulling it out to hand to her. “Buy whatever you need.”

“That’s not why I’m here, but thanks!” she giggled. “Can you or one of the others help me put up the chandelier in the study room? Pretty please?” She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll tell the boys, but not right now, okay?” he said quickly. “I have to go now. I’ll see you in a bit.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips and hurried off before she could respond.

Feeling defeated, she closed the door and made her way to the living room. Then it hit her—she still had two more boyfriends somewhere in the house! Not ready to give up, she decided to head to the instrument room.

She lightly knocked on the door, and I.N. called for her to come in. As she stepped inside, she noticed one of the instructors sitting in the corner, reviewing some papers.

“Hey, babe!” Seungmin greeted her with a warm smile, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. “Everything okay?”

“Can one of you help me put up the chandelier in the study room?” she asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Maybe after we’re done with vocal practice, yeah?” Seungmin replied, nodding toward the instructor.

“Fine,” she huffed, frustrated but smiling nonetheless. “Thanks, guys!” she said, waving goodbye as she left.

The boys kept pushing her away with their busy schedules, and now the one thing she really needed help with remained undone. She didn’t want to study in any of their workspaces while they were gone; the whole reason they even had a study room was because Chan wanted her to have her own little space. As she walked away, she resolved to find a way to get that chandelier up—one way or another.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The fall happened in an instant. One moment, Y/N was up on the ladder, carefully trying to fix the big chandelier, and the next, she was crashing down, the world spinning wildly around her. She hit the floor with a jarring thud, and everything went dark for a moment.

When her vision finally cleared, she was greeted by a shocking sight: shards of glass glimmered around her like a dangerous constellation, and a pool of crimson was slowly spreading out from beneath her. Her heart raced as she registered the pain throbbing in her head and the sharpness of it radiating through her body.

“Ow,” she groaned, her voice barely above a whisper as she attempted to assess her injuries. Panic began to rise in her throat as she looked at the blood pooling around her. “No, no, no…”

Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. The tightness in her throat made it impossible to scream or call for help. All she could manage were muffled cries, silent and desperate, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Y/N’s phone lay just out of reach, the screen dark and unresponsive to her silent pleas for help. Her strength waned, and she felt her limbs grow heavy, as if the weight of her fear was pulling her down into the abyss.

“Help… someone…” she thought, but the words wouldn’t come. The room around her began to fade, shadows creeping in at the edges of her vision. Just as she felt herself slipping away, everything went black.

In that moment, the world faded, leaving only an echo of her own heartbeat and the haunting realization that she was utterly alone.

Beep Beep Beep Beep

The haunting beeping of hospital monitors filled Y/N's ears as she slowly regained consciousness. Bright white light pierced her eyes, making her squint against the harsh glare. A groan escaped her lips as she tried to process everything around her. Pain coursed through her body, sharp and relentless, and her memory felt like a jumbled puzzle.

As she shifted slightly, a cry of pain escaped her when she caught sight of her leg in a bulky cast. Panic surged through her.

“Y/N?”

She recognized the voice instantly. “T/N, you’re awake? Thank God! Don’t scare me like that!” Yeji exclaimed, sitting beside her with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in her hands.

“What happened?” Y/N groaned, looking over at her friend, trying to shake off the fog in her mind.

“You tell me, love. I just came over because we had plans, and I found you on the ground. I think you fell off the ladder,” Yeji explained, her fingers gently caressing Y/N's hand, trying to offer comfort.

“I—I was trying to…” Y/N struggled to gather her thoughts, her head pounding. “I was trying to put up the chandelier, and then I just fell,” she admitted, her voice weak.

“Girl! You have eight boyfriends for all that heavy lifting! Why would you do that?” Yeji questioned, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I told them, but they were busy getting ready for tour. They forgot…” Y/N sighed, trying to get comfortable in the stiff hospital bed.

“Well, look where that’s gotten us now,” Yeji softly scolded her. “Speaking of boyfriends, they’re on their way back. I called them.”

Y/N gasped, eyes widening in alarm. “Why would you tell them, Yeji? I’m fine!”

“Y/Nnie, are you crazy?! Have you seen yourself?!” Yeji exclaimed, looking at her like she had lost her mind.

“You have a broken arm and leg, cuts everywhere, and a huge concussion!”

“Yeah, but they have tour, Yeji! Their fans are more important,” Y/N replied, frustration creeping into her voice.

Yeji shook her head in disbelief. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“One sec, Chan is calling,” Yeji said, picking up her phone. Y/N groaned and closed her eyes, dreading the impending conversation.

The pain medication was strong, and when she next opened her eyes, it was five hours later. The room was filled with low chatter, and as her vision cleared, she saw all her boyfriends gathered around her.

“Hey,” she croaked, her voice raspy but still audible above the noise.

“Baby?” Chan was the first by her side, gripping her hand gently to avoid the IV. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

“Hey, babe,” she replied, trying to shift for comfort, only to groan again.

“Don’t scare us like that again,” Han added, settling on her other side and placing soft kisses on her hand, while Felix sat in one corner, and I.N. perched on the other.

“Why did you guys come back?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she noticed the concern etched on their faces.

“I told you guys she’s gone mad,” Yeji chimed in from her spot in the corner, shaking her head.

“What do you mean why? Babe, you’re in the hospital with a concussion!” Leeknow said, disbelief lacing his voice.

“What even possessed you to get on that ladder?!” Changbin exclaimed, frustration evident.

“None of you wanted to put up the chandelier, so I thought—”

“You thought you could do it alone?” Chan interrupted, his tone serious. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Well, none of you wanted to do it!” she snapped back, the pain in her body giving way to frustration. “You guys are always busy. I don’t even know why you’re here!”

The boys exchanged guilty looks, realizing how much they had let her down. “You’re right… I’m sorry, babe,” Chan said softly.

“Are you feeling better?” Changbin asked, concern filling his eyes. “Have you eaten?”

“The pain meds are helping, so yeah. But no, I haven’t eaten,” she admitted, her stomach growling in agreement.

“This is the second time she’s woken up; she hasn’t had the energy to eat yet,” Yeji explained, organizing the flowers and teddy bears that had been sent by fans.

“Thank you, Yeji, for taking care of her,” Hyunjin said, his gratitude evident.

“I am the better Hwang, after all,” she teased, a playful grin on her face.

“What would you like to eat, baby?” Seungmin asked, pulling out his phone.

“Anything… I don’t really care,” she huffed, trying to get comfortable again.

“Cuddle?” Felix pouted, his eyes filled with concern. He felt awful seeing her like this and wanted nothing more than to make her comfortable.

She nodded shyly, and he quickly crawled to her side, gently wrapping her in his arms. She leaned back, taking in his comforting scent.

“Did you guys get any rest?” she asked, looking at I.N., her youngest boyfriend.

“No, Noona. We just got here from the airport,” he frowned, his eyes filled with worry.

“Chan—”

“No, no, no. We aren’t going anywhere until they say you can leave the hospital,” he said firmly, his expression leaving no room for argument.

“But come on, it’s just a broken leg and arm, Take them home to at least get showered and rest, and you’ll be back,” she pleaded, trying to convince him.

But it was no use. All of them refused to budge.

So for two days, they all stayed at the hospital, living out of their suitcases and using the hospital bathrooms as their personal ones. Luckily, she was finally released, and they were able to go back home to their comfortable beds.

And as for the tour? Well, that had been forgotten in the chaos.

The ride home from the hospital was filled with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. As they pulled into the driveway, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sight of their home. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. Finally, she was out of that sterile hospital room and back where she belonged.

“Welcome back baby,” Chan announced dramatically as they all stepped inside. The house felt warm and inviting, and she was immediately surrounded by her boyfriends, each eager to help her settle in.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Han said, guiding her to the couch, where fluffy pillows awaited. As she sank into the cushions, a content sigh escaped her lips.

“I missed this place,” she murmured, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Not as much as we missed you,” Seungmin replied, plopping down next to her and offering her a slice of her favorite cake. “Here, you need to eat something.”

“Thank you, Seungmin,” she smiled, taking a bite. The sweetness was comforting, and she could feel her energy returning just from the taste.

“I’ll grab you some water,” I.N said, jumping up. “And maybe some snacks, too!”

“You spoil her,” Leeknow teased, shooting a knowing glance at Y/N. “But I guess that’s our job now.”

As the boys hustled around, Felix crouched down beside the couch, looking up at her with his big, earnest eyes. “What do you need, Y/N? Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen!”

“Just having you all here is enough,” she replied, her heart swelling with affection.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

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@mbioooo0000

(open: i believe i've added everyone but if you don't see your @ please comment down below)

[achromatophoric]

Wenclairtober 2024, Day 7 - Favorite AU

Early Wenclair. A certain werewolf lounges on her bed as she rambles on to the room’s other occupant. Said occupant is at her desk, staring in silence at a blank sheet of paper.

Enid: Oh! Speaking of coffee, one of my other favorite AUs is coffee shop. That one’s kinda like florist, but the atmosphere is different. Ya know?

Wednesday: …

Enid: There’s just something so intimate about memorizing a coffee order. And there’s tons of chances to build romantic tension, since people get coffee like daily.

Wednesday: …

Enid: Oooh, then there’s the good ol’ roommates AU! I don’t have to explain it since that’s actually us. *giggles*

Wednesday: …

Enid: Sooooo like— that’s my top ten favorite AUs! Or was that just nine? I kinda lost count.

Wednesday: Seventeen.

Enid: What about my favorite K-Pop group?

Wednesday: That was the seventeenth AU you described.

Enid: *blinks* Was it? Oops! Sorry, I just love me some AUs. But like, what about you? Which one is your fave?

Wednesday: I find the concept of a time travel AU intriguing.

Enid: *happy gasp* Yeah? How come? Is it because of all the weird paradox stuff? The drama of characters trying to right past wrongs? The wild repercussions from butterfly effects?

Wednesday: None of the above, though the second comes close.

Enid: Oooo, go on!

Wednesday: What attracts me is the idea that one could go back in time to prevent their companion from interrupting a very important part of their daily routine.

Enid: *wrinkles brow* Huh. That— that’s all?

Wednesday: *pointed stare* Quite.

Confused, Enid takes a moment to peer at Wednesday. She regards the seer’s flat expression, then her location at her desk, and finally the typewriter with its very blank page.

Enid: 🤔

Enid: 😲

Enid: 🫢

Enid: Is it your writing…?

Wednesday: 😑

Enid: *flushes* Oh gosh, I am SO sorry, Willa! I totes forgot! I just got so into talking about fanfic stuff —*frets*— and then I like kept thinking of AUs, a-and—

Wednesday: Enid, it is fine.

Enid: *bites lip* Oh um— okay.

Wednesday: *prepares to type*

Enid: *hesitantly* Hey Willa?

Wednesday: Hmm?

Enid: Um. So like, why didn’t you stop me? If I was totally demolishing your writing hour.

Wednesday: It was merely to avoid causing you emotional distress.

Enid: *hurt* R-Really?

Enid: 🥺

Wednesday: 😑

Wednesday: No. It’s because—

Wednesday: *reluctantly* —I was enraptured by the unfettered joy in your dulcet voice.

Enid: 😲

Enid: 😀

Enid: Could you repeat that, babe?

Wednesday: *snarls and starts typing* Take the win, Enid. And do not call me ‘babe’.

Enid: 🥰

[saenari]

my princess ♡

au : divider by v6que !! okay so basically this was a rly cute req , ellie williams takes u out on a first date n gives u kinda princess treatment !! no smut but you do get a kith ,, i hope u guys enjoy i will write smut soon enough i just have writers block for it auhhgggh ♡

cw : fem reader x kinda masc ellie , (idk) ellie is ur best friends other friend , intentional lowercase , age of both characters not specified , both u and ellie are in college , i proofread this time hehe

wc : 1.1k ♡

♡ ellie had seen you around campus multiple times in the past few months . she knew that you liked to hang around a lot of people , which was charming , but also excruciating , because she could never seem to get you on your own .

♡ one day , after class , your best friend dina was walking with ellie , and they were chatting animatedly . "hey dina!" you said enthusiastically . "who's your new friend ?"

♡ ellie eyed you up and down , a little bit nervous but definitely intrigued . she wanted to get to know you better . dina must've known ellie had a thing for you , because suddenly you and ellie found yourselves … very much alone …

♡ "so … i've seen you around campus a lot ..." ellie said as she rubbed the back of her neck . "i know you don't know me .. but would you like to get coffee sometime ?"

♡ now , you weren't a lonely person by any means , or even someone desperate for a partner , but there was just something about ellie ... the way her auburn hair fell around her ears ... the way her emerald eyes shone in the sun ... you just couldn't say no to her offer , simply because you too , were intrigued .

♡ ellie gave you her phone number and you two worked out all the fine details , deciding that saturday afternoon worked best for both of you . you decided that you'd waste no time at all in looking cute and put together for the date .

♡ you got out of bed and put on some denim shorts, a black tube top , black hair clips , white frilly socks , and some black shoes . you took care on putting all your jewelry on , putting on gold bracelets and earrings , with a heart locket necklace you had been gifted a while back .

♡ dina had offered to drive you to meet ellie , to which you happily accepted , and before you knew it you and dina were stopping outside the coffee shop . "thanks dina !" you shout before stepping out of the car and walking inside the cozy atmosphere of the place .

♡ ellie is there and she immediately waves at you and gestures for you to sit down . "hey there ... you look good" she said , while pulling out your chair so you could sit down . even though this was a casual date, nothing fancy, you still wanted to put your best face forward . ellie took care in noticing how you held yourself as a person , your likes and dislikes , your woes about school , and friendship troubles . she wanted to remember everything about you .

♡ after you two finish your coffee and chat for an hour or two , ellie suggests you two take a walk downtown . it's getting dark now , so ellie gives you her jacket to keep warm while walking .

♡ as you walk around downtown , you spot a cool shop that has antiques in it . "oooh, i totally wanna get dina something here , she'd love it" you say as ellie opens the door for you and lets you inside .

♡ the inside of the shop is super cozy n filled with all sorts of trinkets . you pick out a small ceramic figure of a girl holding a guitar , which you thought looked exactly like dina .

♡ ellie picks up a small necklace , that has a locket on it , almost like the one you were wearing , but the heart was smaller and was engraved with fine details .

♡ "i know you already have one ... but maybe you could wear this too ? just something special to remember this date by ." ellie says as she smiles . you almost pass out from blushing and nod your head . "yes, id love that" you say , flustered .

♡ you two walk out of the store a little bit later , ellie holding the door open for you, and you decide to walk down to the pier to look out on the ocean .

♡ ellie comes up behind you and moves your beautiful hair out of the way , and tenderly puts the locket around your neck . you grab it gently and smile. “thank you , ellie " you say while looking at it .

♡ ellie smiles at you and then puts her hands on your waist . "i'm glad you like it ... would you maybe … like to do this again sometime ? i had a lot of fun just chatting with you today .." her voice trails off . you immediately respond with a yes .

♡ "would it be alright if i kissed you ?" she asks, hands still wrapped around you in a loving embrace . "yes, i'd like that .” you say as your own hands cup her face . you and ellie kiss, smelling the ocean and feeling the breeze as both of your arms wrap around the other , pulling each other closer . ellie was warm , and felt like home to you .

♡ you pull away from the kiss to look into ellie's emerald green eyes . "thank you ... for everything today .” you say , while looking up at her "really, it was a gift for me .” ellie says. "let me take you home."

♡ ellie's hand comes down to hold your own , and she rubs the side of it before interlocking your fingers together and planting a kiss on your cheek . the two of you walk back down the long dock from the pier , hand in hand . something told you that you'd be seeing a lot more of her in the future .

♡ aughhhh thanks for reading if u care about me babbling hahahahas so during writing this fic it just threw itself in the garbage ,,, ummm so i wrote this fic around three times help me . i will write smut in my next fic i swear i promise i just am having such a block 4 it tbh ….. like i cannot bring myself to write it . help me anyways i proofread this like three times but there’s probably still stuff wrong LOL ty for reading i love you sm !! ♡

[bohemianblasphemy]

we’re goin ta need more of that birthday blurb. and then what happen? i didn’t request it but softy butcher is a need!! so pretty please tell us what happens next?

you want more, i’ll give you more ✨

“now… let’s get this night started. what do you wanna eat?” Butcher looked at you as he pulled out his phone.

“oooh… there’s this thai restaurant that’s open late, let’s do that one.” you smiled up at him. “consider it done…” he passed you his phone, letting you enter what you wanted before passing it back to him so he could get his and order.

He set the table as you placed the CD he made for you in your music player, hearing Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Second Hand News’ commence through the speakers.

“Good song choice Billy…” you gleamed, moving your body to the beat. He chuckled, watching you from afar. “thought you might like it…”

The atmosphere in the apartment was perfect, soft chatter and laughter mixed in with Billys CD echoed throughout the room. Billy’s phone went off indicating that the food had arrived, excusing himself in the meantime.

Upon returning carrying plastic bags he prepared the spread of your meals on the table, before digging in. Little conversation was had, being in his presence mixed the soft volume of music made the silence comforting - exchanged soft smiles and glances were made between you both.

As you finished your meals, Billy’s phone buzzed on the table. Flipping over the phone to see the caller ID, Butcher kept a poker face and turned to you.

“Give me one minute love… i’ll be back in a jiffy.” he winked, before getting up to take the call outside of your door in the hallway. You nodded, standing up to clear the empty plates and plastic containers along the table.

He was gone for about 5 minutes, you opened the front door to find he wasn’t outside talking to whoever called him, which was concerning.

You walked back inside to sit on the couch, the CD starting to play ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’ by REO Speedwagon, making you smile softly - you loved that song, sitting there humming along to it quietly before the rattle of the door knob interrupted you.

The door flung open as Billy walked in once more, in hand was a white square cardboard box.

“Bill, what is that?” you questioned, standing back up to walk to him. He flips open the lid of the box. he had order a cake for you- adorned in delicate chocolate decorations and ‘Happy Birthday’ iced on top. After pulling out some candles, Butcher lit them with his lighter.

always full of surprises isn’t he?

“You ordered a cake?!”

“Course I did, love. Can’t have a proper birthday without cake, right?” he watched your smile grow as you looked at the now lit up cake, admiring it.

“don’t expect me to do a Marilyn Monroe style happy birthday though yeah?” he smirked, listening to your laugh. You rolled your eyes before blowing the wicks out, watching the small trail of smoke curl into the air.

“Billy…” you turned to him, seeing the usual tough exterior crack before you as he gives you a bona fide smile- adoring his ruggedly handsome face.

“You made this night amazing… thank you, it means so much to me.” your arms wrapped around him once more, which he welcomed with pleasure. Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, he replied; “You deserve it sweetness…”

A soft blush crept along your cheeks as his lisp pressed to your forehead.

“well, shall we have a slice? this cake looks delicious…” you asked, looking up at him.

“great idea love…”

[youandtom2]

Request if you want it: Tom is playing at a golf event and reader is a journalist there. She absolutely can't stand him, because she finds out he is quite arrogant and full of himself. They go after each other throughout the whole day with sarcastic remarks. But somehow (you can fill in the details) Tom seduces her by the end and he gets her on her knees and he totally dominates her, making her choke and gag. And he embarrasses her by making her feel his muscles and beg to suck him off and he boasts about how easily he got her in the palm of his hand. :P

(14/07/22) brain go brrrrrrrrrrr THIS REQUEST!!!!

a/n (28/06/23): This was a request that was sent in and one that I had started last year that I really wanted to finish. Apologies to the anon who sent this in and waited for it whoops. This was supposed to be short but I clearly don't fucking know what short means so here's like 7k or something???

Anyway here's 'A Word for the Youth Diary?' Shitty title I know but I literally can't think of anything else.

MASTERLIST

"The weather is absolutely gorgeous here at St. Andrews' Castle Course, celebrating the first 'Pro Amateur' charity competition where a host of celebrities, socialites or anyone with a keen passion for golf can compete. A number of spectators have gathered around the course, eager to soak up the buzzing atmosphere, the scenic landscape and the presence of Hollywood stars, all in the views of the warm Scottish sun. Now that's something I never expected to say!"

The red light of your recorder dims as you press pause on your commentary. You made the switch to recorder a few years back when journalism became too close to drowning in a number of scribbled, illegible notes written far too quickly. Now it is a simple case of pressing record and pressing pause.

Of course, wherever there is a flock of celebrities congregating in the one area for the week, there will always be flock of paparazzi and journalists close by, each with the same agenda. It usually feels like mission impossible to get a word in with a celebrity or document anything of note or interest when there's a wall of other journalists blocking your way, but today those things won't be a problem. Because you’re not going after who may probably be the most coveted celebrity here. Tom Holland.

You don't quite don't know where it stemmed from; your strong dislike towards Tom Holland. In all honesty, your hatred towards him is very self-inflicted, but there's something about his ego that paints him in a very arrogant light. He knows he's hot shit with the press, he knows everyone fancies the man, he knows that his many talents has sky-rocketed him up the societal ladder and onto the throne of the rich and wealthy. What makes him double as frustrating than he is arrogant is that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's Hollywood's golden boy; ever the humble, handsome, kind, charity-giving actor that has claimed the hearts of many across the world. It's what makes your hatred towards him completely unjustified, so while no one shares the same view as you, there is some things you can do to quietly preach your opinions.

"First to arrive at the course is the notable Tom Holland, waving to the crowd with a smile, loving the attention as ever. Although I'm not sure that his mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire will receive the same compliments!"

The smirk on your lips lasts for the majority of the day as you talk incessantly into your recorder. Your goal isn't necessarily to shit on Tom, only when the opportunity presents itself of course, like when he swung the golf club at an awkward angle, sending the ball straight over the forest and into the sand bunker.

"Oooh, what a poor shot from Tom Holland. He'll be disappointed with that one. Perhaps leaning towards the 'amateur' side of the competition in comparison to some other competitors. Tom Holland yet again teaching us a valuable lesson in life; just because you're a pro at one thing doesn't mean you're a pro at everything else."

The crowd politely applauded and off he went with his caddie. While others followed, you choose to stay rooted while you wait for Mark Wahlberg to walk up to the tee. He's who you've been waiting for all afternoon. Getting a word in with him would set you up for the highlight of your career.

"Mark! Over here! Mr. Wahlberg! A word for the Youth Diary? Mr. Wahlberg!"

As it seems, Mark calmly maneuvers way past the wall of journalists, paying them, and you, no mind and strolls over to the starting point. Damn. You have to get a word with him somehow.

"Mark Wahlberg takes a mighty swing and thrashes the golf ball high into the air, and the crowd watches in astonishment as it sails its way over towards the green, a hair's breadth away from perfection as it rolls upon the hill. A round of applause circles around Mark as he proudly walks on with the confidence of a man who's set on winning this competition."

As the hours tick by, you find yourself without any luck. Those first few minutes of the competition were stuck in a loop, constantly experiencing deja vu of having to witness Tom Holland's unlucky shot followed by being ignored by Mark Wahlberg. You haven't had one decent interaction with anyone yet. Things are getting a little desperate.

You even begin to understand why the majority of journalists are following Tom Holland like a lost flock of sheep; he's very chatty. He stops at every turn to give his narration on his own playing, offers a brief insight to the projects he is currently working on, and if he likes you, even spill some of the secrets of his private life. It's a journalist's dream, one that you haven't even had the taste of yet since Mark Wahlberg is as accessible as the vaults of the Bank of England. Anyone with common sense would advise you to follow the crowd and ignore your bias towards him and just interview Tom Holland if it means you have something worth printing.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Not a chance. He gets enough attention as it is.

"Mr Wahlberg! A word on your new film? Could you tell us about Uncharted! Mark! Over here!"

Not even a glance is spared your way in yet another attempt to get his attention. From your left, a voice emerges. A fellow reporter sidles himself next to you, away from the crowd that follows Tom Holland. You spot the Sky Sports label wrapped around his microphone.

"He doesn't like to speak much to the press. Thinks that he'll say something and they'll twist his words," he sympathies. It's genuine, obvious that he too has been caught up in the same frustration you've been facing all afternoon. At least he has a little more insight as to why you haven't gotten a word from Mark.

"Yeah, I figured. It wouldn't hurt just to say hello and have a small chat. What could the press twist about that? If anything, I think he's damaging his reputation by not saying anything. It's rude, y'know?"

He nods his head in agreement, but the sigh he blows doesn't seem to match. "You have to let it go though. They're not obliged to tell us anything. This is just a day out for them, they're not getting paid so why should they have to say anything about their work? It's just our luck whether they choose to talk to us."

"Ugh, I guess you're right, but I still need something for my article."

"Sky Sports has had lots from Tom. Why don't you try your luck with him? He seems to be a lot chattier than Mark. I don't know much about film journalism, only sports, so I don't know what it is you're looking for. But if you ask him anything, I'm sure he's willing to provide."

You look to him with contempt in your eyes, your lack of smile instantly shuts down his suggestion.

"I appreciate the suggestion but no. He's too easy. Think of how many journalists are here desperate to get a word in about sports, golf, acting, celebrity personal lives, all that show biz. If everyone shared the one source, audiences wouldn't bother reading them all because they all be the same, boring stuff. Think about it. If you, and 30 other journalists had the chance to interview Ronaldo, you would all take it because after all its Ronaldo. The only downside would be that you would then have 30 articles all saying the same thing and audience getting bored after reading 1. Now think about having the chance to interview Messi. It would be hard but total payout if you got it. Plus, you would stand out from the rest and that's what would gain audiences' attention."

Once again, the reporter sighs. "Look, kid. I've been in this job for 20 years and I've learned that sometimes you just have to cut your losses. If your objective is to get something to write about for your article, then you should do it however and whatever way you can, doesn't matter who the source is. If your objective is to get something from Mark Wahlberg specifically? Then you should scrap the whole article and try again. Something is better than nothing."

"I refuse to take anything from Tom Holland."

"Suit yourself. Good luck. Oh, by the way, I think you're still recording. Wouldn't want you to get your chance with Mark only to realise you have no storage left on your recorder."

You mumble a weak thanks and remember to press the pause button on your recorder. The reporter saunters away back towards the crowd, your only indication of knowing where Tom Holland is. You consider it for a second, but determination drives you away, following Mark to the next hole.

~~~~

It's all to play for in the final hole with only two possible candidates capable of winning the trophy. Currently sitting in the lead is the elusive, mysterious Mark Wahlberg, strolling casually along to the final hole with his team behind him. Ah, and of course, next in line is Tom Holland soaking up the attention as he strings along behind Mark Wahlberg like an apprentice would their mentor. It's not clear whether the confidence he walks with is a poorly executed imitation of his acting mentor ahead of him, or whether it is a man deluded with besting him. All will be revealed within the hour.

It's well into the evening of the Pro Amateur competition and the luck that reporter wished you earlier has yet to find you. With the final hole well underway, you're starting to think that it never will. So far, you've gotten a few short, curt answers from other celebrities here but nothing near the sustenance your article needs. If only Mark could stop being so stubborn.

"One at a time please guys, one at a time." Tom's smug, arrogant tone of voice emerges from behind you and not too soon after, tens of other voices asking him questions. As he makes his way nearer, so do the swarm of people and in an attempt to get out of the way, you're stampeded by the press. Bumped, shoved and pushed, you struggle to find your balance and fall precariously on your knees with your equipment tumbling from your bag. In all honesty it didn't hurt, but what an inconvenience picking up all your bits and bobs. Ugh it's all his fault.

Before you do anything irrational and say something you shouldn't, you pack up your stuff and walk away.

The competition concludes with a twist that no one was expecting. With a gust of wind getting the better of Mark Wahlberg, it earned him a double bogey and cost him the trophy, annoyingly snatched up by Tom who achieved victory with a birdie. You seethe at the sight of Tom holding up the golden trophy, soaking up the champagne that his teammates spray all over him and hearing the applause from everyone, even you as a slow, lethargic clap rings from your hands. All to just to keep up the pretence of 'liking him' of course. Ugh, why did he have to win?

After a day of being the lone ranger in a journalists mission, you concede to following the crowd into the conference room where many like you await behind a wall of microphones and a valley of cables to hear from today's competitors. And Mark Wahlberg is one of them. This might be your chance to get a question in. Quick! Where's your recorder?

Fuck. It's not in your bag. Where is it? You rummage through your bag again and it's definitely not there. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where could it be? Did you lose it when you fell over? Has it been stolen? Fuck, you really need that!

You have no other option but to record from your phone and in your quiet, subdued panic, you try your best to catch anything he has to say. The quality isn't great and it's picking up outside noise to the point that articulation has no place on your recording. Sweating at the loss of some expensive equipment and valuable content, your phone drops and the clatter of it paints a mountain on its waveform, rendering the recording useless. Fuck, if you hadn't lost your recorder.

People start to look at you in your fluster and your legs starts bobbing erratically. The attention is too much and it's exactly why you prefer to stay behind the microphone and not in front of it. You have to leave. At the next possible opportunity, you end your recording and begin to make your way through the aisle, apologising profusely to the other journalists who wait for Tom Holland to make an appearance.

You just about make the double doors of the conference room when you hear Tom's voice welcoming the room.

"Before I start, I wanted to check to see if this was anyone's recorder..."

Everything about you stops dead in its tracks; your feet, your heart, your breathing, your entire existence. Nervously, you spin around to spot Tom Holland holding your recorder in his hands, fingers fluttering around its buttons. How the hell did he get his thieving hands on it?!

A pit opens up in your stomach at the dreaded thought of having to announce yourself in front of everyone to claim it. But damn, you really need your recorder back.

Braving the nightmare, your hand raises half-heartedly into the air. "Uh...it's mine. Sorry, I must've dropped it."

Tom's deep brown eyes lock onto yours from the stage and he throws, what you think, a sickly smile before he offers up the most ridiculous idea. "I can set to record if you want. I can sit it riiiiight here." He sits it directly in front of him and sends you a sly wink. It's a spot any journalist would dream of having their microphone; right under their nose on the off-chance that anything muttered under their breaths or whispered discreetly would be picked up. Journalists are a sucker for secrets. Quite frankly, you don't care for his secrets, you don't care for his thoughts on today's events, and you really don't care for what he has to say at all.

But the only reason why you end up saying yes is because you care more about what people would think of you if you gave up an opportunity like that.

"Sure. Thanks."

You proceed to endure 15 minutes of Tom glorifying himself in front of the press. God, it's embarrassing. You could plainly hear the snide tone underneath the guise of 'self-evaluation'. Everyone seems to soak it up like a sponge, praising him for his insightful words and self awareness, writing nothing but positive words about the actor. Whatever. You wish you could drown him out but your paranoia is rooted to your recorder at his table, thinking the worst outcome as his fingers toying with its external case. What if he doesn't know how to work it and accidentally erases all you had from today? One slip up and it's gone. Your eyes constantly flicker from your recorder to him and no matter who he's speaking to or where he's looking, he always manages to catch your gaze.

Already outside your comfort zone, you audibly whimper when you see him lightly tap the little trash button at the end of the recorder, miles away from the stop, pause and play buttons that you would regularly use. You would only ever press that button with intention, it’s pretty to hard to press it accidentally. Even without knowing how to work the recorder, it doesn't take an idiot to know what that means, so watching Tom play with it tells you that he is whole-heartedly toying with you, enjoying the view of you panicking from his throne of sadism.

It's like he can sense your hatred towards him.

~~~~

"Thank you, thank you! Until next year!" Tom smiles as he walks off stage, your recorder in his clutch. The further he walks away, the faster you bob and weave through the crowd, feeling like you're fighting against the tide as it sweeps you out. Then, just as the room empties you reach the entrance to the backstage area in a relief, only to hit a brick wall that stands in your way between you and your highly coveted recorder.

"No press allowed backstage." A security guard towers over you.

"Tom Holland has my recorder. I'd like to get it back." You have no time for polite small chat, your request grumbling with agitation.

"Still can't allow you back--"

"You can let her through, Jim. It's alright." A young boy’s voice echoes from behind the wall.

The guard hesitantly lets you through, keeping you under his iron gaze while you slip through the narrow space he gives you. You are led out into a hallway with plaques decorating the hall, awards from winners of tournaments the venue has previously hosted, the newest addition being Tom's 'Pro-Amateur' plaque much to your distaste.

The boy you recognise as Tom's caddie leads you down this hallway, he hasn't said so much as a word to you as he confidently walks ahead. Now he's getting his assistant to fetch you? God, the arrogance!

"He's in here."

"Thanks," you quietly mutter. The door closes behind you, locking both you and the actor into the room. When you started the day bright and early this morning, you didn't think this was where you were going to end up. You couldn't have put money on it.

Although, you have to admit: despite putting your heart and soul into avoiding Tom Holland the entire day, this could be an exclusive for your article. Nobody else has had this opportunity, so why not take advantage of it?

Tom smiles as he greets you, carelessly tossing your recorder from hand to hand. You swallow nervously. "You are...?"

You respond with your name, who you report for, and make it abundantly clear that you would like to take back your recorder in one piece.

He approaches with a small, boyish chuckle like you just told a joke. "Sorry, I was just thinking," he casually says, "about how you once said you refuse to take anything from me."

What? Where did he hear...? Fuck. He listened to it. And that entire conversation you had with the Sky Sports reporter...

Your mouth drops. As does the anchor in your stomach.

"What was it you said again...?"

"You listened to it." He ignores you.

"Oh yeah, that my 'mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire wouldn't receive the same compliments'."

"You...listened to it all?" you reiterate once again. Your voice rings with all the inflections of a question, but you already know the answer. Unfortunately.

Tom's brows furrow inward.

"Honestly, I can overlook the fact you insulted my outfit, it doesn't bother me that much." There's a 'but' in his sentence. You're just waiting for it. You inwardly panic, trying to remember what else you said that would warrant that dreaded 'but'. Your shield of writer's anonymity has fallen; it's what protects you if you are to ever post negatively about a celebrity, but now that he knows your name and your face, you're left exposed.

"But..." There it is. And in a disbelief, he bites, "I'm too easy? Really?"

There's two ways you could go about this. Stand your ground and defend yourself, or dig yourself a grave and apologise.

Ha. Yeah right.

"I don't really think it was your place to listen to my recordings."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Should've minded your business if you knew what was good for you."

"You--" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, almost to contain himself and tries again. "You," he points accusingly, "are very...very lucky that you look as attractive as your voice sounds."

Your cheeks flush angrily. Safe to say, you're not used to anyone calling you attractive let alone Tom Holland, so in your fluster you have no idea how to respond. You don't know how to tame the flutter in your heart nor the fire in your stomach. Instead, you ignore it all and revert back to your original goal.

"Can I have my recorder back? Please?"

"In a minute." He swats his hand away from yours. High above your reach, you stand helpless as you watch his thumb crash land onto the record button, resuming from where it last left off. "I think that what you have about me in your article is a little bit too harsh. Why don't we start putting some positivity back in. I think you have it in you to pay me just one compliment. I did win the competition after all, I think it's deserved."

You laugh hysterically. The nerve of this guy! So conceited. "You don't deserve anything from me."

"C'mon. Just one. It's not that hard. I promise I'll give you your recorder back straight after."

Succumbing to his torment, your eyes roll over his features, his hair, his outfit and his body, trying to identify possible compliments that would meet his demands but yet wouldn't inflate his ego too much. What you don't anticipate is you're spoiled for choice.

Defeated, you sigh. "You...smell nice."

"Aw, c'mon. I said you were attractive and all you could think of was that I smell nice? Try a little harder."

"Hey, you said the deal was that I give you one compliment then I get my recorder back. Cough up, Holland."

A smug grin pulls at his lips. "I'm not satisfied. And I will give it back when I am satisfied."

Given that your hatred towards Tom Holland is now at least justified and not just self-inflicted, it means that it's twice as hard to sacrifice it all and compliment him like he so desperately wants you to, a complete betrayal to your own beliefs. But you NEED your recorder.

"You look strong."

"Elaborate."

"You clearly work out."

"What in particular?"

"Your arms."

"How can you tell?" He's really pushing the mark, overstepping it by miles with the dirty smirk he has on his face because he knows he is. You audibly grumble at the sight. Losing patience...

"They just looked particularly...muscular when you were swinging the golf club."

"Why don't you give them a feel and you can tell your readers how strong they really are in detail? I know you want to."

Is it bad of you to admit that you do want to feel them? Absolutely. Are you going to announce that to him? Absolutely not.

You don't move for a couple of seconds, your own conscience making so much noise inside your head that you can't make a coherent thought. A spark of adrenaline twitches at your hands, enough to catch Tom's eyes but it's not enough to swing it into force.

Quietly, slowly, he reaches for your hand and envelopes his fingers around yours, manipulating them to wrap around his upper arm. He makes sure to mold your fingerprints into his skin while he tenses, just to feel the sheer density of his muscles. His skin is warm, soft to touch but yet firm to grasp. While you become instantly fascinated, his glistening smile brightens in the corner of your eye. It's so quiet in the room that Tom hears the softest stutter of breaths and he feels like a winner all over again.

"Well?" He nods towards the recorder, its red button flashing. For the readers...

"Definitely..." you clear your throat. Why has your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? You retract your hand. "Definitely toned. Sculpted."

"If that's what you like then I should show you this..."

He takes your hand once again, its warmth holding you captive, and drags it all the way down to his torso. You can't pull your eyes away from how he sensually slips your hand underneath the hem of his shirt and weaves your fingers between the valley of his abs. Your fingertips skate over every sculpted ab of his, feeling the way they almost shiver at your cold touch.

Your fingertips aren't enough. Tom takes a step closer and your whole palm presses against him, almost too intimately for strangers.

Tom's head quirks to the side to get a better view of you. "Thoughts?" he asks, even though he can read them so clearly on your face. You're becoming entranced.

"...Holy shit," you whisper. "Um, yeah. Strong."

"For a woman who had a lot to say about me, you're certainly lost for words now."

As the heat rises and things escalate, neither of you diffuse the tension and the string of long, uninterrupted silence continues. Every minute that passes by is a precarious step over crossing boundaries and breaking every rule you have in your moral bible.

It forces you to suck in a nervous breath and hold it for a few seconds while you deliberate what the end goal is. Of course, it was to leave with your recorder but given your current position and your change of opinions, you're not so sure anymore. To be clear, your change of opinion isn't necessarily about Tom; you still think he's conceited, arrogant and incredibly vain, but it is what you do with that opinion that has changed. Before, you avoided him, stopped yourself becoming another little lost sheep and following him at every opportunity. Now? You're giving him every drop of attention you have to give.

Tom watches you intently while he silently introduces himself to your shyer nature, definitely not the same person that walked in here in a fit of rage and demanding for their recorder. The minute he meets that side of you, he knows exactly what to do next.

He drops his head as he drops his voice into his lower register, your hand feeling all the rumblings from his chest. "Want to be completely speechless?"

Fuck it. Sure you do. "Mm-hm."

"Good girl."

You aren't actually sure what he's planning to do so you look for intention in his eyes, but you see nothing but darkened caverns and devilish features. In fact, it's because you're looking into his eyes that you don't realise that he's grown hard underneath his straight grey trousers. Like before, he guides your hand fluidly underneath the waistband where the button pops out easily, and navigates you under the elastic band where he desperately shapes your fingers around him. He pulses underneath you, shaking with relief that he has you exactly where he wants you.

You dare not pull your eyes away from his, even as they droop in his pleasure. More so now that you admit how seductive they look. You try to mirror that same seduction with a small smile, moving your hand up and down his shaft independently.

Fuck, the more you move your hand, the more you think it's never going to end. Bluntly put, he's huge.

As a journalist, you should be eloquent with your words, careful in your choice of vocabulary, definitive with your metaphors, but all those years of reading and writing falters the second the sheer size of him stuns you. It slightly pains you to be so tasteless but nevertheless, you don't think there's any other way to put it.

So caught up in the heat of it, your common sense finally comes to once again acknowledge your recorder in his hand. You forgot he had been recording this entire conversation...

He brings it closer to his lips, seductively whispering directly into it. "Just like that..." He keeps going. "Doing such a good job - fuck - don't stop."

Encouraged, and progressively feeling turned on, you tighten your hand around his cock and move faster.

"How do I feel, sweetheart?" The microphone tilts towards you. Detail. Although at this point, you don't think it's for your readers as much as it is for you and Tom.

"So big. I almost can't fit my hand around you."

He very nearly buckled. That voice of yours is like a siren to him. Little do you know that when he found your recorder and listened to all of your little angry ramblings about him, it had sparked up a fiery, unavoidable desire inside him. It was hell having to listen to your voice talk shit about him, he just couldn't stand it. He needed to hear you compliment him, worship him, adore him, and he spent every spare minute of his day replaying your recorder, instilling your voice to memory until he could manipulate your words, imagining what they would say about him.

But now that he actually gets to hear you feed into his desire is twice the satisfaction than he initially thought.

As quick as lightning hits, an idea occurs to him and it completely devastates his entire system; if hearing you compliment him turns him on, how would having you beg for him make him feel? The idea becomes such an unstoppable craving he already knows his imagination won't be able to satiate it this time. He needs it for real and right now.

"You wanna taste?"

Doe-like eyes stare up at him - oh, you are so capable of begging him - and your movements come to a halt...all except your thumb sweeping over his tip. You didn't actually think this was going to go any further than a hand job.

"You want me to?"

Oh no, no, no. This isn't about Tom begging. "Because I know you want to. I can see how desperately you want to tell everyone how I allowed you to come backstage, meet me, get on your knees for me, how I allowed you to suck me off and how I allowed you to taste me." His hand slithers up your jawline and brings you close, leaving nothing but a hair's breadth to separate you. As you anticipate the feeling of his lips, you have but his breath fanning over yours and the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach to feed from. "You just need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Beg. It was hard enough to lose one battle and compliment him, but to lose an even bigger one and beg? You would be absolutely humiliated.

Would be meaning if it was under any other circumstance, if you weren't so spellbound and seduced by him. But that simply isn't the case.

Not uttering another word, you slowly drop to your knees keeping Tom with the wicked grin within your sights. The zipper of his trousers comes undone and you pull him free, watching as his cock stands tall and bobs heavily with weight. Instinctively, your tongue rushes to wet your lips.

"Beg." Tom demands again. The recorder soon comes back into your view and your jaw clicks with frustration. He's capturing every single word much to his demented, power-hungry mind.

You chew through your irritation and instead tune into the feeling that's bubbling in and around your stomach, the one that's being powered by him. "Please," you breathe. "Please, Tom, I wanna suck you off so badly, I promise I'll be good."

"And do you promise to never write a bad word about me ever again?"

Oh, this fucker.

"I prom-"

"Say it like you mean it."

How you so wish you could lie through your teeth, but you know for a fact that from now on, any bad word you write about Tom Holland will forever be tied with this day. You'll think twice about writing badly because being on your knees for him will get in the way. You'll struggle to find the words to knock him because the compliments you paid him will stain your lips. You'll hesitate to criticise him because you'll remember how you verbalised about his good looks.

"I promise. Just--just let me taste you." It's sad how desperate you sound. "Please?"

He doesn't respond. There's one last warning to give.

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart pounds. Despite being adamant in your dislike for Tom, you do somehow get the feeling that the threat that rings through his tone is not one to be taken lightly. It buzzes a little too seriously for you to brush over it. So you answer accordingly.

"Okay, I promise."

The threat dissipates and he looks at you approvingly, his empty hand dropping to cup your cheek. You aren't so unaware of the twitch of his cock in your hand. "I just want to make it clear and put on the record that out of the two of us..." Tom angles you closer, "it's you that's the easy one. Too easy. So easy that you're already on your knees and begging me."

How you would slap that grin clean from his face. The scowl on yours warns him of it, but he simply laughs, mocking you.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Admit it." His boyish chuckle continues to ring in the air and its contagious effect pulls at your lips despite trying to hide it. He sees clearly that it pains you to admit it, so as a small motivator, he crouches to your level, his hand still cradling your cheek. In quieter words, though still delivered through a smirk, he murmurs..."Be a good girl for me, yeah?" His lips melting onto yours stops you from getting the chance to reply. The surprise of it fogs up your brain, submitted into a dream-like state as he gently molds his lips onto yours. It's short and leaves you wanting more.

With a flutter of lashes, you nod. "Atta girl."

He stands up taller once again and you take that as your cue to fulfill your promise. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue darts to sweep over his tip. His groans can be heard above you and no doubt heard by the recorder, crescendoing the second your head starts bobbing. Your hand covers what your mouth can't reach, doing as much as you can to make him feel good. It seems to work; his hips begin thrusting. Slowly, at first, to swing into rhythm but the more you swallow him the less control he has of his own movements, and soon, with your hair wrapped tightly around his fist, he's rutting erratically, drinking in the sounds of your moans of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so good at that."

"Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Taking me so well. Good girl."

"Just like that, shit."

"Look how easy you are, fuck. So willing, aren't you? You wanted a word for your precious Youth Diary? Here it is; you are so easy it's pitiful. Fuck--"

Tom's animalistic nature completely dominates to the point where your tears and gags are silently begging to slow down. Every part of you is screaming out: your throat is bruising, your lips are tearing, your eyes are streaming, your knees are cramping, but holy fuck hearing him talk about you like that fuels the fire inside you.

His thighs twitch underneath your hands and you think he might just cum down your throat. The red-hot grip he has of your roots is your only warning before that happens.

Warmth fills your mouth and you're quick to swallow it down before you choke, like it’s instinct. He holds you hostage with his cock deep in your mouth, using you to string out the orgasm for as long as he can. Minutes later, you open your eyes to see Tom hunching over, still very much catching up to you in regaining his composure. His white fist grips the recorder while the other remains tangled through your locks, keeping you in place to prevent you teasing him any further.

When all seems settled, Tom lifts your chin once more - dabbing off the little drop you seem to have missed - and catches your gaze from behind the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You already know what he's going to ask of you and when he perches the recorder in front of you, he shoots you a wink.

"Detail." He simply says.

"Hmm, you taste so good, Tom. Best I've ever had. I could taste you all day."

At that moment, something snaps in Tom. The smirk drops and his jaw tenses. It's small, minute changes, but it dramatically changes the atmosphere in the room. You just don't know whether it's for better or for worse.

You find your answer when Tom's muscular arms promptly tuck themselves under your arms with vigour, yanking you up onto your feet. The clatter of your recorder steals your attention as Tom carelessly throws it onto a coffee table to his right; after all, he needs his hands to be free if he is planning on returning the favour. You should be complaining about his lack of regard for your equipment and how he could've broken it, but the red flashing light still shows sign of life, so you decide to overlook it for now. Besides, Tom doesn't give you long before he whips your head back to claim your lips, hungrily moaning into them as he forces his body weight against yours and slams you flat against the wall. The collision whips all of the air out of your lungs but it isn't what causes the gasp to jump from your throat. Tom's lips find your neck, suckling onto the supple skin with intentions to bruise, all to distract you from his hand slipping under your skirt. With ease, he palms your cunt, offering just enough of a tease to have you burning for more.

"I need to hear you say my name again with that voice of yours." Ah, so that's what triggered him.

"Tom," you mewl, almost purring.

"As sexy as that sounds, I think it will sound even better when you’re cumming for me."

Oh fuck.

It's frightening how quickly Tom is able to weaken you with just the deft touch of his fingers to your clit and punishing kisses to your neck. You try your best to soak it in and remain somewhat stable to remember every moment of it, but goddammit you can't keep yourself together. So much so that despite Tom claiming to adore the sound of your voice, for the sake of dignity, he keeps his hand clamped hard against your mouth. Neither of you want curious ears to overhear the scandal coming from within.

Never did you think that Tom's all-round talents included making a girl cum so easily. It's kind of frustrating.

His fingers circle around your clit, dragging and pulling every nerve he can find and it winds you up perfectly. Legs shaking, breath faltering, you suspect you have mere seconds before he takes your orgasm.

Your whines and moans buzz from behind Tom's hand, muffled and diffused. Eventually he lets go, and replaces his hand with his lips, once again thrashing against yours.

"You gonna cum for me?"

"Fuck, I--"

"Say my name. Beg me to let you cum."

"Tom, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum."

Two fingers slot themselves into you, his palm taking over pleasing your clit and you have to stop yourself from buckling. It is the last sign Tom needs to know that you're on the precipice of shattering. With a devilish twinkle to his eye and a crooked smile, he sinks closer to you, his lips narrowly brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers the word. "Cum."

In a similar fashion to Tom what seems like hours ago, you come undone. Your hands grip onto his shoulders for stability as he refuses to stop abusing your cunt. His fingers dig deeper, his hand moves faster, and the tight curl of his knuckle breaking you sends you spiralling.

The gut-twisting tension soon turns to tranquil bliss as he slows his movements, finally catching a breath to revel in the post-orgasm haze with a twitch or two catching you out.

For as egotistical as you believed Tom to be, with the grounding kisses he litters over your cheek, neck, lips, he completely negates that belief. He utterly dominated you, yet affection fuels his movements; something you don't expect a vain person to have. Maybe he isn't all you made him out to be...

Calmly, you both collect yourselves until you're presentable, standing apart within the room as if what just happened never happened. The heat of the room is all that's left to suggest otherwise.

Tom doesn't stop you from reaching for your recorder, the plastic rectangular object feeling like home in your hand. You firmly press the stop button, letting the audio file save before you address Tom again.

"Thanks for...y'know, keeping it safe. I genuinely don't know what I would've done if I lost it."

Tom smiles kindly. "It's no problem."

"Oh, and congratulations."

He nods humbly. "Thank you. I didn't actually think I was going to win it, but I guess luck was on my side." Huh. He's not bragging...

Settling your recorder into your bag, you begin to make your way out of the room. You hadn't realised how late it had gotten and how hungry you had became until your stomach grumbled loudly. As you take your cue to leave, Tom leads you out with a gentle hand to the small of your back and chills arise. Shit. Don't start liking him now...

Tom clears his throat before you completely disappear. "Will I be seeing you lurking about any other events this year?"

Something about his question makes you smile. "Maybe. I've got a few film premieres that I will be attending."

"Good. Well, if any of them include me, I'll make sure to review your work again." How his wink makes you weak.

"Hmm, we'll see, Tom Holland."

~~~~~

It takes you over a week after the golfing event to eventually find the courage to finish writing your article. Most of it is written from what you remember thinking throughout the day, but your work leaves much to be desired. All that's missing from the article can be found on your recorder that you have deliberately been ignoring knowing what filth it contains.

It takes a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night to find the bravery to listen to it once again. It all goes smoothly at first, words flow from your mind to your fingertips and your article slowly builds as your past self feeds you your own commentary from that day. You were going to stick with your original idea, deciding to keep in all your criticisms about Tom Holland because who's going to stop you?

But your valour is short lived. Because you've reach the end. When you think you have the finished product, a masterpiece of literacy for your readers to enjoy and you have nothing else to write. Just when you think you're about to press 'publish' that you reach that part of your recording that you just can't bring yourself to turn off.

Shit, it turns you on so much to hear Tom's voice once again demand that you promise to never write another criticism again and the way you caved so easily in your lust-induced state. Even listening to it makes you resonate with it all over again, resurrecting the same excitement and anxiety to stir in your stomach. It's a reminder that persuades you that you don't necessarily agree with what you write about Tom. It makes you reconsider all that you've just written, your finger hovering over the backspace button prepared to fix the promise you're about to break.

Fuck. It's such a good story. Probably one of the best articles you've written. Alas, with the disagreement going on in your head, you can't find it in yourself to commit to it. There's also the problem that if you are to post it, the privilege of writers' anonymity will no longer be in your possession. Tom does, after all, know your name and your face, and you are damn sure he will take the time to find it and read it. What unnerves you is that you have no idea what actions he might take. How could you forget that warning?

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

So there you sit with your empty glass of wine, chewing nervously on your nails while your eyes dry at the light of the screen you've been deliberating over for the last three hours. The question still remains.

What do you do?

[sunnie-writes]

is loving as good as they say?

pairing: wally darling x reader

tags: romantic fluff, love confessions, reader is a hopeless romantic !!

plot: a hopeless romantic all your life, you dreamed about the love you saw in movies and series, the type you would read in books that left you kicking your feet and giggling. cupid never seemed to be by your side, everyone who you fell in love with ended up not liking you back, so of course you were scared of another heartbreak when you moved to a new neighborhood and ended up falling for your newest neighbor, wally darling. although, it seemed that cupid didn't miss this time.

talk that talk, sunnie !!: so, this has been rotting in my google docs for almost a year already, so i thought i should post it already!! i hope you guys enjoy it, and you're more than welcome to read my other wally fics. thank you, and let's get to it!!

this fic is also available on ao3, you can click here to find it!!

A hopeless romantic, that's what you could call yourself.

You crave the love you would see on TV, those movies and series about romance had a grip on you that no one could explain, and don't get me started on the books. Even while being that amazed by the concept of being loved and cared by someone who you felt the same with, Cupid seemed to always miss his arrows.

Unrequited love was painful, you learned that the hard way. In your high school, you would watch all the high school sweethearts make their ways to classes while holding hands or eating lunch playfully with all the romantic atmosphere that came with it. What was the word you felt? Ah, that's right, you envied them.

Moving away from your town was both a relief and a scare, you would now be open to meeting new people, watching them enter your life. You hoped that they would stay.

And that's how you ended up here, in the lovely and colorful neighborhood that was Welcome Home. The name seemed silly, but you quickly learned that it was because of all the friendly behavior that those who lived there seemed to have. So friendly that they're always welcoming everyone.

All of the stars know that you would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. You never dealt good with talking to new people, you hoped that they could be friendly enough to start introductions first. Even if you were repeating how to introduce yourself like a mantra in your head, you were anxious about meeting so many people in just a day.

"Oooh! Are you the new neighbor?!" And that was your cue to use up all your social skills.

"Uh- yes?" You turned around to see who screamed, eyes meeting with a puppet girl with long blonde hair, and were those candy corn horns?

"Welcome Home! I was so excited to meet you! What is your name? What do you like?" She jumped up and down while popping multiple questions.

"I'm Y/N L/N, nice to meet you." You smiled, she's like a puppy. "I like reading and... animals, and I would love to be your friend!" There was no need to reveal your secret interest yet.

"That's amazing! You remind me of Frank, he also likes reading and animals! Well, specifically, flutterbies!" She spoke rapidly.

"Julie for the last time, they're called butterflies!" You looked to the side, seeing a gray man coming your way. "Oh, hello, I'm Frank."

You settled for waving at him. Julie, noticing your behavior, told him your name and interests. You're starting to think that Julie was sent from the angels as a way to help you enter this community.Then, you were pulled away from your thoughts as more puppet people started to gather in front of you.

"Oh my, the new neighbor has arrived already?" A girl with a sun head happily said. "My name is Sally Starlet, and you?"

"I'm Y/N L/N... nice to meet you!" You gave your best friendly smile.

Everyone introduced themselves to you, all colorful and adorable. Poppy was a pretty chicken who turned out to be an immediate mother figure to you, we also have Barnaby who is a big blue dog with a chill, kinda laid back personality that made you comfortable with his presence. Eddie Dear was the mailman, who Julie alerted you to not catch feelings for since Frank already had his eyes on him, and Howdy was a sweet man who owned the local market.

Judging by the numbers of houses, only one neighbor was missing. You pondered on how the last person could possibly be like, smiling at the idea of them being just as friendly as everyone in this colorful place that had you looking around nonstop.

"Ah, I see… am I late?" Someone spoke up, you turned around to finally meet your last neighbor.

And at that moment, you knew you were in trouble. He was absurdly pretty, with a blue pompadour and yellow skin, along with colorful clothing and eyes that pierced your soul and sent chills all over your senses. You felt your cheeks burn up, Cupid did it again and you weren't sure on how to stop staring at him.

"Woooow Wally, being late to meet our newest neighbor? How dare you!" Barnaby playfully dramatically gasped.

"I apologize, let me introduce myself." He went in your direction, standing right in front of you, who was currently almost out of breath. "I'm Wally Darling, the artist of the town, it's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Y/N, Y/N L/N." Your voice almost cracked for a second, making your cheeks heat up even more. "Nice to meet you too…"

"How adorable, surely you're a great addition to our lovely neighborhood." He picked up your hand, giving a kiss on the back of your palm.

Stuttering, you thanked him for the compliment while trying your best to not fall on your knees. Julie came into the scene again and began telling Wally your tastes, he listened carefully while nodding and looking at you with a relaxed smile.

Eventually, everyone began slowly saying their goodbyes and going to their homes or jobs. You waved as Julie was the last one to leave and entered your house, closing the door behind you and holding your heart. It was racing, and you were well acquaintanced with the feeling.

Well, you failed, love followed your way again.

And now, what to do? You couldn't lie to yourself but it was hard to face the truth. It seemed too early for falling in love, you can just call it a crush and try to get over it, maybe this time it'll work! 

Yeah, just give it some time and it'll pass, you were sure of it!

— 

So, it didn't work.

That was obviously going to happen, and now you had your head in your hands while you walked around your house. On your bed, a pretty bouquet with your favorite color layed prettily there. Wally gave it to you, as a way to celebrate "your first week in the neighborhood", how sweet!

Your heart kept beating faster and faster each time you thought about the way he showed up on your doorstep, with his smug smile and bouquet in hands. He looked so innocent as your insides felt like melting from all the sweetness that gesture had.

And before you could control your feelings, you were already catching yourself humming to cheesy love songs and even singing them while cleaning the house. The radio echoed around your house, romantic tunes that you requested on the telephone to play there were all over the place.

Your once retired love books were now scattered across the floor as you giggled by imagining the scenarios with Wally. You didn't try to make a move and ask him out, your heart already had many bruises from past love delusions, and you really didn't feel like piling up another one for your heartbreak wonderland.

Instead, you just tried to become his friend while also trying to get your feelings to go away. That was, obviously, not a good idea, how could you try to stop falling for someone who you interact with everyday?

Before you could think properly on a better plan, a month had gone by. You still had your late night scenarios to giggle about, along with your hopeless romantic dreaming that pulled you into a cycle of trying to stop loving Wally Darling and learning how to love him all over again because of your weak heart.

Curse the Cupid, curse him and all of his pinkish love arrows who never found your way before. Of course you would be giving up on the first month, he never gave you what you wanted before, what could possibly make you think that now it would all go the right way?

Stupid, selfish Cupid.

—

Three months had passed, and you could say you were tired of waiting for the feelings to suddenly disappear.

You played with a doll's hand, carefully moving the antique treasure in your arms. Currently, you were at Julie's house, who was the only person who was aware of your huge crush on Wally. She giggled as she asked you questions of all the time you and "lover boy" had passed together.

"He just wanted to paint with someone, it's not like he wanted to paint alone with just me and nobody else!" You blushed while looking at the ground.

"I don't know, he never really let me or the other neighbors touch his painting supplies." Julie then whispered in a teasing manner, "Maybe he thinks of you as special, in a like-like way!"

You lowered your head while choking on your water, feelings all over the place. If there was something that Julie liked to do, it was to tease relentlessly. After you calmed down, you both started to ask each other random questions to pass the time.

"Now, as a hopeless romantic, what is your ideal date?" She questioned, looking happy as ever in your direction.

"Hmm, stargazing seems like a great date, picnics look a lot of fun too!" You bashfully chuckled. "Oh, a picnic on a sunset, that turns into a stargazing session! With sweet apple pies and cake, along with refreshing drinks!"

"Ooh, tell me more!" Julie smiled.

"Okay, then a cold wind blows and suddenly I shiver, then Wally puts his cardigan on me and hugs me closer!" You could easily feel your cheeks heating up just from your imagination.

And that earned a screech from Julie.

“Ugh, how are your scenarios always the best?!” 

“It’s the prize I get for being a dreamer.” You chuckled lightly.

—

Today was a special day in the neighborhood.

Apparently, everyone was going to the nearest lake, which is gigantic, you can say, and pop up some balloons and light up some fireworks because it was the neighborhood’s anniversary! 

You were currently trying to pick your best outfit, and that was because Wally was going to pick you up since you didn’t know the way to the lake. At least that’s what you told yourself so you wouldn’t freak out at the scenario. Seriously, that sounded like a romantic comedy.

After a while, you ended up settling for one of your favorite outfits, one that had stars on them. Then, a knock on the door was heard. You quickly put on your shoes and ran to open it, coming face to face to an adorable Wally, looking at you while holding a bouquet of red tulips and some amaranth.

“There we go, a bouquet of beautiful flowers for an even prettier one.” 

“Oh! Wally, you shouldn’t…” You blushed and took the flowers.

“Nonsense, you deserve only the best!” He chuckled raspily.

You giggled as he gave you his hand, pleading eyes for you to walk with him. You two started walking while holding hands in the direction of the lake, talking about everything that was going on in the neighborhood. It was a nice atmosphere, comfortable enough, and dare you say, romantic.

As you arrived there, Wally smiled and kissed the back of your hand before going to talk to a knowing Barnaby, who stared at you with a big smile and wiggling his eyebrows. Julie, who saw all of that, pulled you towards her and Frank immediately.

"Oh. My. Stars! What was that? Is that a bouquet? Are you two going on a date?" She excitedly spoke while flapping her hands.

"Julie, calm down. Pretty sure she is malfunctioning." Frank told the girl by his side. "But yeah, what exactly happened there?"

"I don't know, and I'm freaking out about it!" You giggled while holding the bouquet close to you, smiling.

"That was absurdly romantic, I think he is head over heels for you!" Julie exclaimed while whispering. "Besides, look at these flowers, they are so pretty!"

"They also have an exquisite meaning, you know?" Frank randomly spoke, dropping the fact like it was nothing.

You proceeded to hint at him to keep going.

"Amaranths mean eternal love, red tulips mean true love." Frank looked at you while raising his eyebrows. "That is literally a confession."

Julie, who was holding her energy back, gave a screech and started shaking your arm. Meanwhile, you had just bluescreened. Your cheeks heated up, and you felt your heartbeat increase rapidly, like it was trying to burst out your ribcage in a desperate manner. At that point, you were checking if you still even had some pulse.

Suddenly, someone started ringing a bell, and so, everyone looked to the front, seeing Poppy there. She smiled before starting to explain that there was food on the foldable table, fireworks and water guns, everything for fun. Poppy then started handing out glasses with juice to everyone before raising a toast for the neighborhood's birthday.

After that, all of you started talking to each other. You looked around, smiling when you saw Eddie talking to Frank, who was trying his best to cover up a blush while Julie looked at him with a knowing smile from across the field, Sally was braiding some of her long hair. Poppy and Howdy were discussing random things while Barnaby just laid down at the picnic blanket and stared at the stars.

And there, from across the room, your eyes met his. Something electrical went through your body, and you could swear you felt your world stop. Suddenly, there were no more friendly neighbors around you, the festivities and candy long forgotten in your mind. No, none of that mattered anymore, did it?

It was just you and him, across a field as he slowly made his way towards you.

Wait.

You were too late to process it, he's already in front of you.

"So, dearest, how are you enjoying the party?" Wally asked, igniting a fire in your belly to light up the butterflies who panicked and fluttered along you.

"Good, I- I think everyone is having fun, what about you?" You responded, trying your best to hide your reaction with the nickname.

“I could say I am.” He looks at you, up and down, down and up. And it sets your skin ablaze.

Icarus wasn’t able to resist the beauty that was the Sun to him, and maybe you wouldn’t survive the flirt that was Wally Darling. Every single thing he does sets you on fire, butterflies infest your stomach, it’s magical and so cheesy, all at the same time.

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” His honey-laced words get to you, and you comply with a nod.

He holds your hand, and starts going into the trees, between all those primary colored leaves. You can feel your heartbeat increasing, all your muscles about to give up, it’s like dying but not exactly that, living in ecstasy, better than any drug.

You two stop at Swan Lake, where the stars reflect on the water and the feathered bEINGS float elegantly. Your eyes shine as you see them doing their little synchronized dance, until you notice that they end up doing a heart. You sigh, real romantic.

“Darling, could you look at me, please?”

You turn to see Wally, on one knee, his hand holding yours. You might start crying.

“You see, Y/N, ever since the day I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. With your smile, your way of expressing yourself, I knew you were gonna steal my heart, and I knew that I would never have it back. I’ve heard stories in the past about soulmates, loved ones made for you, and I didn’t believe any of that, before I met you. I’m an artist, not a poet, but you make me inspired dear, to dedicate you the most beautiful forms of art out there, paint and frame your face, have millions of words dedicating my love to you, and that still wouldn’t be enough for you to understand how much I desire you. I want to see your resting face every morning, I want to hold you in my arms and sleep for eternity, I want to grow every day by your side. Would you do me the owner, Dearest, and accept my confession? To finally be mine and let me be yours?”

You, unable to hold the feeling, giddily jumped around before throwing yourself on him, both of you falling on the ground. You cried tears of joy as you said yes a million times, while he patted your back and chuckled, kissing your forehead.

—

“You know,” Frank started with crossed arms while looking at you and Wally, happily holding hands while sitting on the picnic blanket, “One could say that you two were perfect for each other.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Julie exclaimed, happy that you and your Darling were together, finally together.

“Ha ha ha, oh well, I knew they were the one for me since day one.” Wally answered, pulling you into another sweet and quick kiss, making you squeak.

“Ugh, don’t leave the picnic all sappy with your love.” Frank rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Don’t be jealous Frank, everyone knows you want to live that with Ed-” He covered Julie’s mouth before she could say anything else.”

“... Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like I just won the lottery.” You proudly stated.

“Oh, they grow up so fast…” Poppy hiccuped for what seemed to be the eleventh time, being real emotional with your fresh new relationship.

“There there, Poppy.” Howdy patted her in the back.

“I’m really happy for you guys!” Said Eddie while sitting down next to Frank.

You smiled at him while Wally thanked the mailman. You grabbed yourself a piece of lemon pie to eat.

“Sooo, when’s the wedding?” Barnaby jokes.

And you proceeded to choke on your lemon pie.

[unclewaynemunson]

prompt idea! :D

steve being a poet and eddie being a songwriter. they both reference each other in their works and no one has put it together yet.

( also hi you're awesome )

Oooh anon I love this, this is such an intriguing concept bc the possibilities are ENDLESS with this one! I hope you like the direction I ended up taking it in :) (and thank you so much for dropping this in my ask box! <3 )

EDIT: I wrote an expanded version for this one and it's also on ao3 :D

---

Jeff was the one who introduced Eddie to Ronan Right. His mom was moving and when Eddie visited to help, he found his friend with his nose buried in a small book that was nearly falling apart in his hands.

“What's that?” Eddie asked, flopping down next to Jeff among the boxes.

“My mom's favorite poet,” Jeff mumbled, barely glancing up from the page.

And as soon as Eddie got a chance to pick up the book from where Jeff had left it, he was hooked. He was no help at all for Jeff's poor mom, completely engrossed in poem after poem, reading them again and again and again.

Eddie liked reading poetry to get some inspiration for his songwriting, but a lot of poetry had this atmosphere of pretentiousness around it. This didn't. It was surprisingly simple. To the point, with a rawness to it, mostly short poems that had a simplicity with which they managed to cut right to the heart of things.

Ever since that day, Ronan Right became Eddie's biggest source of inspiration. He'd never start working on new songs before reading one of Right's poems first. And whenever he got stuck on his lyrics, he'd pick up one of Right's books – and every time, without fail, he'd find something in there to help him find the right words.

---

When people would ask Steve what inspired him, his answer was always the same, always simple: music. Most people probably assumed that by that, a poet would mean classical music or maybe jazz of some kind. They were wrong: Steve Harrington, professionally known as Ronan Right, liked to blast the most screamy metal imaginable whenever he was writing – much to the discontent of his poor neighbors. He didn't care much for lyrics, it was all about the sound for him: about volume, about harmonies, about a combination of ingredients that somehow managed to flip a switch inside of his brain that unlocked the more creative ways to look at words.

His favorite band was called Corroded Coffin. Something about them stood out in the long list of metal bands he loved to listen to. It was something about the sound of the singer's voice, about the guitar riffs, that simply made sense to him, made the words that he was looking for bubble up to the surface naturally.

He got halfway through the first song on Corroded Coffin's newly released album, when he froze at his desk. He didn't care much for lyrics, but those words... There was something familiar about them.

He replayed the song from the beginning and started frantically flipping through the pages of one of his earliest poetry bundles... Yeah, there definitely was something familiar about those lyrics.

They weren't copied, exactly. It could just be a coincidence.

But the album kept playing on and Steve kept getting distracted by the lyrics because there was so much familiarity in them. It wasn't like the singer was stealing from him, it wasn't even like he was taunting his copyright or anything like that... It was like he was building on Steve's words. Like Steve had laid a foundation that had sparked Corroded Coffin to make something beautiful. Like the two of them shared a mind, a soul, an inspiration.

And Steve wrote the best poem he had ever written, in one go, that day.

---

More bundles followed. More albums were released. And they kept interlocking with each other, one causing the other to do something new, try something different, figure something out.

Ronan Right was still an obscure poet, well-respected but not mainstream enough for bigger successes. Corroded Coffin was still an obscure metal band, praised by the connoisseur but too experimental to ever get anywhere bigger than the verge of the metal scene. The only one who noticed the textual similarities between the two, was Jeff's mother. She'd smile her knowing smile and chuckle quietly, delighting in her own private understanding.

---

A new book was about to get published. Steve had to drive down to Chicago to meet with his publicist and talk some things through, but his car was in the shop so he got on a train instead. The meeting went well, Don't try to be a hero officially got the green light, and feeling content, Steve pulled out the latest Corroded Coffin cd to put in his walkman as soon as he got on the train back home.

“Hey,” the guy opposite him said with a smile and a nod towards Steve's walkman, just before Steve could put on his headphones. “Corroded Coffin, nice.”

“You know them?” Steve asked, taken by surprise, a matching smile creeping onto his own face.

“Yeah.” The guy chuckled. “Yeah, I know them.”

Sunlight fell through the window and shone on the big rings around the guy's fingers, catching Steve's eye – and pulling his gaze towards the tiny book he was holding in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “Ronan Right, nice.”

The guy stared at him for a few seconds, something like disbelief in his big brown eyes. “You know him?!”

Steve felt laughter bubble up in his chest. “Yeah, I know him.”

[anemptypuddingcup]

Hello 😊 pov: reader is reading on Sunny's gym at a time of the day/night when she thinks she's completely alone because no one would dream of making the trip up there, when she find a hole in her dress/shirt. Since she is alone, lazy to go down in the bedrooms or in the bathroom, and don't think anyone would come, she decide to sew the hole real quick and take off the dress to sew it better. But obviously when she is nearly done someone come and see her in bra and pants. What is the reaction of the strawhats male crews? I don't remember if you do headcanons with multiple characters or just drabble with one of them but i thought this scene was fun to think about even if the headcanon is just fluffy

By the way i love your writings, expecially the Usopp's ones since is my favourite character 😁 have a nice day 😊

Oooh! I love that idea! And yes I do headcanons love so don’t worry about that! Sorry I only did four too, this is really my first time writing headcanons (also I’m happy you liked the Usopp writing!)

Strawhat crew (men) walking in on Reader half-naked in the Sunny’s gym.

Luffy.

❤️Let’s be real here- Luffy doesn’t necessarily care. He’ll walk in and act like not shit is going on.

❤️I imagine he came into the gym because he was going to work out with Zoro, i personally think it’s a plus if Luffy doesn’t give a fuck and doesn’t overreact.

❤️”Oh! Wassup ________!? Ima just go over there if ya don’ mind.”

❤️Jesus he just…doesn’t read the atmosphere sometimes.

❤️And I love his precious ass for it. (I love luffyyyy)

Zoro.

💚Oh he’s gonna be startled as hell. He’ll wonder why the hell you’re even in the gym without a top on. Not that it wasn’t normal but you’re in your bra, not a workout top or anything like that.

💚He’s not even paying attention to you trying to sew up your dress.

💚He was so excited to work out today, yet seeing your ass with no shirt on completely ruined his mood to workout due to him being flustered.

💚”O-OI WOMAN! WHAT THE HELL!?”

💚“Z-ZORO PLEASE, I PROMISE IT AIN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE-“

💚“PUT A DAMN SHIRT ON PLEASE WOMAN!”

💚He’ll be so flustered because he’s never necessarily seen you without a top before.

💚A very flustered marimo quickly leaves the gym.

Sanji.

💙Sanji came to the gym expecting to see a dumb marimo and tell him that lunch was ready. Instead he gets hit with a pretty lady without a top sitting on the bench, sewing up her dress.

💙Of course, it’s natural for Sanji to overreact with blood just gushing from his damn nose like a geyser.

💙”_-________-SWANNN! O-OH AM I DREAMING O-OR ARE YOU IN YOUR PRETTY BRA!?”

💙”S-SANJI!-“

💙Yeah…Sanji’s gonna end up rushing to you instead of running away and you’ll have to urge him to leave you alone.

Usopp.

🧡Usopp’s gonna be flustered just like Zoro. He didn’t expect to walk in on a woman topless.

🧡On instinct, he’ll immediately cover his eyes and start screaming, surprised and startled that he may have seen something he didn’t (or probably did) want to see.

🧡”A-AHHH! WHY’RE YOU HALF N-NAKED IN THE G-GYM!”

🧡”U-USOPP, I-I PROMISE THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING! I-I’M TRYING TO SEW M-MY-”

🧡“N-NO, YOU’RE T-TRYING TO TRICK ME! I-I WON’T LET YOU!”

🧡Usopp would overreact the very most knowing his overdramatic ass.

[hazbinsillynight]

Radiostatic week 2024

Day 3 : Date night

Vox asked his nemesis out out of nowhere in the middle of a fight. Confused and surprised, Alastor accepted. Only now they both had to spend a night without killing each other!

The Vee’s tower always appeared cold, calm, and threatening. The atmosphere has always terrified other demons but what they didn’t know was that inside the tower it was a different image that was given off.

It was warmer, and more welcoming, especially for the Vees who lived there and who after a long day of work only wanted to relax a bit. Sadly for them, the tower was never silent long enough for anyone to enjoy the calm and silence.

“Stop laughing dammit!!” Screamed the TV Overlord before throwing a pillow at his coworker and friend Valentino.

“I-I I can’t!!” The moth demon exclaimed, bursting into laughter, incapable of stopping.

“So Mister Vox, how does it feel to have a date with the radio demon? Your rival since always!” Velvet exclaimed, mimicking a micro with her phone, laughing as well.

“I didn’t ask him on purpose!! It came just like that. I didn't even want to ask him out!!” Vox screamed at the same time both stressed and angry. His answer only made Valentino laugh harder. “Val! I’m going to cut your fucking balls and shove them into your mouth!!”

‘Ouuuh Voxy I didn’t know you were in cannibalism kink! I’m sure Alastor’ll love that!” Velvet teased, causing Vox to glitch before his screen started showing multicolored bands and he rebooted.

“I think you broke him Vel.” The moth demon said, a bit more in control of his emotions but still laughing. 

“Come on, come on! We have to find him something to wear for the occasion or he’ll just wear his usual costume!” The social media Overlord exclaimed cheerfully, hurrying into Vox’s part of the tower.

**********

“Alastor come on, it’s just one date. What can possibly happen or go wrong?” The princess of Hell said at the door of the room of her sponsor.

“Everything! As if I was going to go on a date with that stupid TV! As if I was even going to go on a date?!”

“But you promised Vox, I know you did, I was there.”

“I don’t care.” The red demon hissed, clearly refusing to go with every fiber of his body. Just why did he say yes?!

Everything happened so fast, he didn’t even understand it and he lived this moment two hours ago! They were casually fighting against each other like usual, except that Charlie was here since she accompanied him on one of his walks. Vox attacked them and Alastor made himself a pleasure to ripost and attack back. Or at least he was until that crazy dumb and stupid TV asked him out. He was so surprised by that that he nodded and accepted his request. 

Clearly, neither he nor Vox expected this situation but with Charlie hearing everything there wasn’t any step that could be taken back. Just what was the media Overlord thinking?! They hated each other for decades! This didn’t make any sense!

“Alastor, come on! Vox didn’t deserve to be left behind. You already said yes, just imagine how miserable he would feel if you didn’t come.” Charlie tried again behind the door.

“Then he would have what he deserved! What is wrong with him asking such things!!”

“Come on Nifty helped me choose some clothes for you. You know what, how about a deal? You won’t have to take part in the next week's bonding activities if you go on that date!” The princess said, finally getting the attention of the radio demon. “What do you think?” 

“I suppose I could make an effort. But if there is anything in his behavior that’s wrong I quit.”

“Of course Al! I don’t want to force you, just to give him a chance. Oooh, I’m so excited!! this is going to be awesome Alastor you’ll see! 

*********

Vox never felt so stupid in both his life and his afterlife. Here he was dressed in the clothes Velvet and Val had chosen for him, waiting for the radio demon and ready to take him on a date. If he could just get really drunk and forget everything happened it would be perfect. But since when has his life ever been perfect dammit!?

With a look at his phone, he noticed the messages from both his friends who were encouraging him from their home. Right, he could do this! And if Alastor desisted it would be even better, right?

Speaking of the devil, the radio demon came out of the front door of the hotel. He was wearing a white shirt covered by a red velvet jacket without any sleeves. His trousers and bow were black, and Vox could see he left his radio cane in the hotel. 

“This is stupid and I hate you for asking me out.” The radio demon said before Vox could even voice a word. Good thing because he was quite mouth-gaped here. 

“Well, I hate you for saying yes so I guess we’re even Al.” The TV Overlord hissed back before taking a deep breath. “I think you’re looking great.”

There he could do this! He could survive to this date even if it was with Alastor. Or at least that was what he thought before he saw the hateful glare the deer demon was giving him. Just what did he say wrong?! No no no no! He could do this! Alastor was just playing with his nerve to prove Vox was just a horrible date. Ah! He’ll see who’s the horrible date!

“I know you like spicy food so I booked a restaurant where they serve creole cooking. I hope it is to your liking. We can change it if you want.” The media demon said with the perfect smile he performed on the stage.

Alastor looked pissed but pleased at the same time so he didn’t know if it was a victory or not. He didn’t say no so it must have been a win right? 

“I booked the whole restaurant so we should be in a nice ambiance. “ Vox said under the approbating eyes of the radio demon. 

Now Alastor won’t lie if he said he was relieved by this news. Having a public while he was going out with Vox from all people was clearly something he wanted to avoid. 

“Thank you Vox.” He said, causing the other demon to look at him in shock. Alastor rolled his eyes and they both continued their walk to the restaurant. Like Vox certified him it wasn’t far and Alastor liked to walk; they left the limousine Vox brought with him.

The two Overlords finally arrived at the restaurant and just like Vox said it was empty, the only table left was for them and the whole room was illuminated with candles. An orchestra was playing classic jazz music in the back and the ambiance of the place reminded his old home of the radio demon. He looked at everything amazed and gladly surprised to discover a place like this in hell. It felt so nostalgic…

“Do you like the place?” Vox asked a bit nervously, this wasn’t the kind of restaurant he usually goes to but for this, he tried to put himself in the place of his rival. He knew the other missed his country and home more than him.

“It’s perfect…” Alastor said, still surprised. The look in his eyes expressed everything for him. “Thank you Vox, you don’t know how much this place represents for me right now.”

Vox blushed heavily when he saw Alastor’s smile. It wasn’t the same he was used to seeing every fucking day, this one was special, kinder and it was for him. Something in his heart got warmer at this thought. 

“I’m glad you like it, Al.”

The waiter guided them to their table and Vox came to pull Alastor’s chair for him. The radio demon paused suddenly a bit more nervously, which was unusual for! He was the Radio demon, the strongest Overlord that ever walked Hell, and Vox’s rival. He wasn’t some stupid enamored guy who would blush at every action of his date! No matter how gentlemanly he could be. 

With a look at the menu surprised when he saw they served demon meat. This place was a cannibal restaurant. The radio demon looked at his rival, a bit moved by the intention. The other Overlord chose the place really well. 

Vox looked a bit nervous, more than him if he could say. Alastor held a laugh, he always found it funny that the face of the media the entire Hell was a mess when it came to dealing with him. 

“It’s perfect stupid TV so just relax. You’re so nervous I bet the entire restaurant noticed it.” He said, chuckling at his nemesis. 

“I’m not nervous!” The TV demon exclaimed blushing before adding with a calmer tone. “I just want everything to be perfect.” 

Alastor raised a helbrow suddenly interested. If Vox put so much attention on this date why did he say that he was mad he accepted his proposition? This was getting interesting. Perhaps he could play a little with his stupid TV tonight.

“It’s alright Vox.” He said with a sweet smile, gently taking the hand of the other demon. 

The reaction of the media demon didn’t take long. The TV Overlord glitched a lot and for a few seconds, there were colored bands on his screen. When he finally came back to his senses he was bushing so hard it looked like his screen had a new color. Ah, it was so funny to tease him.

Neither of them took their hands off and the conversation continued. They talked about everything and nothing, the last tantrum of Valentino, the last crazy idea of the princess, the complaints of Husker, or the new obsession of Nifty. They even talked about radio and modern technology without tearing each other apart! It was a really good evening so it was without regret that when Vox brought him back to the hotel Alastor proposed to him another date. 

“Y-yeah it would be great Al!” 

Vox was overjoyed about the news. Alastor wanted to spend more time with him! Him! That meant the date he spent so much time on had been a success. Suddenly the radio demon took his hand in his and gently kissed it, causing him to glitch a little.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t really impatient when it came to this dinner with you but in the end, I had a lovely night. Thank you Vox. I’ll see you around next time.” He said before going back into the hotel, leaving a blushing, enamored, and happy TV Overlord outside.

“I look forward to it.” He said before zapping back to his tower.

[velvetvexations]

Oooh internet horror, I see you haven't mentioned Petscop. Have you seen it? It's in the "haunted game from my childhood" vein, and it was pretty good, AND atmospherically spooky without jumpscares.

I struggled hard with whether or not to include it. I loved it for every second it was "airing" right up until it abruptly ended with zero revelations about what the fuck was going on. All my enthusiasm ran right into a brick wall. Then when it turned out that the site HAD in fact been made and the creator just wasn't going to share it, I was like, legitimately angry.

But man, it was so good for so long.

I'm really hopeful that Valle Verde keeps going so hard, because I'm really enjoying it as a replacement for the spot Petscop had in my heart.

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(from paper to screen, the comparative study continues... Back at it again)

Season 1 episode 4 [The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood With All a Child's Demanding] - part 1/2

- Oh, the sun! Hello, the sun. You're not a familiar presence here.

- Eyyy, we're opening with another Armandaniel scene. I mean, that Rashid guy and our Danny boy. "Mr de Pointe du Lac will be resting today" - Armand what does that meaaaaan. Armand giving Daniel Claudia's diaries. Oof. Are we ready for the paiiiiin.

- Shout out to the props department because those diaries are so pretty.

- Shout out to Bailey, I adore her voice.

- [Lestat] "'You were ready to abandon our home, and now you want a third.' [Louis] 'I just need her not to die. Please.'" - you know, there are hospitals. Yeah, skin grafts are not a thing in 1917, but the hospitals can still help her... She is not your penance.

Fascinating the way the scene completely changes tone and atmosphere in Lestat's recollection. Though, which one is the most real... Memory is a beast. But Louis remembers it as something quite romantic in a way, life blossoming out of darkness. Meanwhile, for Lestat, Claudia's rebirth is mired in desperation, anguish and Louis' loss of control. And the way Claudia writes it, well, she never had a say in it, didn't she? She was ready to die, she welcomed death. And then she was pulled back from it and thrust into a new life, and like she says, "I decided to make the best of it".

- [Louis] "'It's a special trick only folks like us have, like the nails and the teeth.' [Claudia] 'So you can hear me, but he can't? That make him the dumb one?'" - oooh, ouch. Right from the beginning, it's Louis and Claudia, and then Lestat left behind. You can hear the abandonment issues making themselves louder.

[Lestat] "'I'll teach you, just like I taught Louis here. But not if we're going to have family secrets.' [Claudia] 'We're a family?' [Louis] 'Yeah, but with no secrets.'" - points afforded for trying. Also, the different roles are already made: Lestat teaches how to be a vampire, Louis upholds humanity and family values. And Claudia is an excellent student...

Love how she immediately calls them "Daddy Lou" and "Uncle Les".

- [Louis] "Looks like she take after me" - aw, Lou, baby. You couldn't be more wrong.

That first hunt is interesting. First the way they talk about Claudia's outfit - she's a doll to them. It's all about how they can mold her, how they can make her into a reflection of themselves, and which one will have more influence, will be more represented in her. What she wants, who she is, barely even enters into consideration.

Secondly, there's the speed with which Claudia adapts to hunting. The way she lures the policeman by humming, playing the lost little girl, that's not something she was taught, that's something she's learned to do herself, naturally, instinctively.

- [Lestat] "An ominous observation, her young lady metabolism is permanent now" - nooo, you don't say? At least Lestat is aware. Welcome to eternal teenagehood. What a hell.

[Lestat] "'Histrionics.' [Louis] 'Some sleep is what she needs.' [Lestat] 'Sedation is what she needs.' [Louis] 'She'll settle.'"

Let me die of laughter first, that banter is perfect. Total old married couple vibes. Now. Looove how they're here talking about Claudia while not even paying attention to her. They're in their bubble, remodelling their family life as if their third member didn't have their own agency and free will, as if they could control and predict how she'll act, and meanwhile Claudia's like "sayonara dummies, I'm starving and I've got all the power to help myself, don't need you". And ain't that gonna be the heart of the matter, control versus freedom, life as a unit versus individual agency.

- Really love the way they show Claudia's... Is it madness? Is it the chaos of teenage hormones being brought to a hundred by vampirism? In any case, she is all over the place at the beginning. Eating human food and repainting the walls with it, playing with the sun's fire...

- [Louis] "'The sun comes up, we go down. That's never gonna change. We've got rules, Lil Miss.' [Claudia] 'Rules are for fools, Daddy Lou.' [Louis] 'Keeping you safe, little waif.'" - excellent back and forth, top notch, rhymes comprised. Nothing to say.

- [Lestat] "'She talked to the book again. Why do you talk to the book?' [Claudia] 'The book is my friend!' [Louis] 'The book is her friend.' [Lestat] 'The book is a book.'" - parent 1 being completely befuddled by their child, parent 2 being overly indulgent with that same befuddling child and patiently telling their partner "there there. She'll make sense to you one day".

- The fight in French, lmao, I'm wheezing. But aside from the humor of the scene, there's the important, deeper part too: Claudia asking questions, as all teenagers do, and Lestat refusing to answer. Lestat's refusal to tell either Louis or Claudia his history is another one of those extremely crucial point at the centre of the conflict.

- The coffin scene, how Louis gets seriously into the roleplay (I see your kinks, Lou), and when Claudia doesn't play along and the guy gets suspicious, how he knows immediately what Lestat's about to do, without even looking at him.

- "A girl vampire needs her own space if she's gonna find herself in this no-day world. And diary, you can already tell, the words come easier when you're locked in tight, wrapped in pink satin and Daddy Lou's feet ain't in your face. It's just me, my pen, my brain, my heart and the blood of the street car conductor I drained after he got off work. Thank you, street car driver. I hope they got more of you at your company to fill in for you. It's never great waiting for the car, especially when the weather gets hot."

She's just like me fr fr. Joke aside, round of applause for Bailey's narration, and another for the writers. There's something so innocent still in this Claudia, something pure and untouched - despite the great ease and joy she has in killing and feeding. Like a baby bird...

And then spying on her parents getting it on, but also, aaaaw, soft Loustat scene. What halcyon days.

- [Louis] "Sometimes, old people don't like talkin' much about the past. Sometimes, you gotta be careful where you dig, you understand." - what kills me here is Louis' understanding. He's fine with Lestat not telling him where he's from or who turned him. He's aware Lestat's already old, and may not want to revisit painful memories, just like he himself doesn't want to revisit Paul's death or his human family rejecting him.

Now the thing is, in the book, Lestat arrives in NOLA barely 30 human years old and 11 in the Blood, with his very human and very old and very sick biological father. So this Lestat and this Louis are starting more or less from an equal point, both starting this journey as vampires more or less together - yes, Lestat has 10 more years of being a vampire plus old secrets that are not his to divulge, and two other fledglings, one who goes insane and dies, the other one who wants nothing to do with humanity and prefer the wilderness. Louis is his first real companion, in a sense. The first who chose to come with him - Gabrielle he brought because she was dying, Nicki because it was the only way to protect him from Armand's coven. Louis, he brought him in because he chose him and Louis said yes, and Louis does stay with him willingly and lovingly - at least for a while. While they were both still regaining some equilibrium. Before the lack of answers, the lack of total trust, and their respective issues and trauma reared their heads, and then Claudia happened.

But here, Lestat has a century of advance on Louis. He has a whole history. And Louis is aware of this history, even if he doesn't know the details, and he doesn't feel like pushing. He wants to keep the peace. Alas they still have the same lack of trust, communication and the same issues to deal with.

- [Claudia] "'How does it work, love between two men?' [Louis] 'I don't know. Works like... It works like love.'" - I need an edit of s1 Claudia asking that and s2 Claudia going "now I know what two fat cocks etc". And character development! Louis is fully alright with his sexuality now. AND it is love, that's literally him admitting it.

- MUSLIM ARMAND YES PLEASE. Hi Rolin Jones please, pleaaaaase confirm Muslim Armand in season 3 pleaaaaaase I'm begging on my knees.

[Rashid/Armand] "'Do you have what you need, Mr Molloy?' [Daniel] 'A cure for Parkinson's?'" - careful what you wish for, Danny. He might take you up on that a bit too literally.

[Daniel] "For a killing machine, I kinda like her." - yeah, me too.

[Rashid/Armand] "Dubai is a child, Mr Molloy. No one's a native." - little nod to book Armand, that, Daniel pinpointing Kazakhstan or Crimea as his origins. And interesting little insight into the mind of a 500yo guy. He's seen empires rise and fall, ancient cities levelled down... What is Dubai for him but a mere second of existence?

- "Daddy Lou, when am I gonna grow into this? [...] Kill, spend. Kill, spend. Then the next thing you know, the leaves are turnin'." - that scene is fascinating. Not just Claudia starting to realise she'll never change and also be a little girl, but also, the visual itself. Lestat and Louis sharing a dance, lost in each other, in their own little world, and Claudia standing in the corner, isolated, alone, lost staring in the fire. That speaks for itself.

And the Lioncourt domestic family life carries on undisturbed... For now.

episode 1 | episode 2 | episode 3 | part 2 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7

[earth4angels]

Oooh for your spiderman au and Jace’s girl accidentally seeing him, I have some workshop ideas to help with your writers block

Maybe he was catching or chasing a criminal near her house and he pops by her window to look in a check on her, to make sure she’s alright and not in danger.

He gets smitten when he sees her reading peacefully in her pajamas. Maybe she is wearing one of Jace’s sweatshirts since they are “best friends”😉

He doesn’t want to be seen but he is so in love with her and giving her heart eyes, that he slips and makes a noise so she looks up and is like “Oh shit, it’s Spiderman”

Jace slipped so hard that he’s hurt and bleeding. His girl invited him in so she can patch him up with her first aid kid. He knows that he heals quickly, but you don’t know that. She sits him on her bed and he is having very teenage boy thoughts like “Oh gods, I’m on her bed. I never thought I would actually be on her bed. I’ve fantasized about being on her bed or rather in her bed, for years”. He maybe feels a little guilty for having sexual thoughts about you while you are helping him but he is just so in love with you.

He feels guilty but he selfishly lets you dote on him a little bit, showing him affection and giving him feather light touches. He is super flustered and is blushing under his mask and suit. He has to make effort to disguise his voice and make it comically deeper so she doesn’t recognize his voice but he is so in love with her, he is in her room late at night, she is in her pajamas and that it is making it very difficult to concentrate.

She lightly teases him like “Were you spying on me Spiderman? A young girl alone in her room?” Jace is all flustered and stuttering and is all “Uh….well no…not exactly….I was chasing some robbers and they came this way and I just wanted to make sure you were okay…I mean I was checking on everyone but I just wanted to check on you” or something like that. She loves that strong superhero Spiderman is flustered because of her. She tells him she is just teasing him. This is the first time he’s been alone in a girls bedroom, not counting when he and Luke would hang out with their cousins, Baela and Rhaena. This is the first time you have had a boy in your bedroom. You two both get nervous when you realize it and you both feel the atmosphere change when you both have the same thought at the same time. You two both seem to be in sync and have a friendly, easy banter and you are surprised that you get along so well with this stranger. Maybe you two bond over things you like and have in common like books and movies and you think “Jace and I love those things too”. Like in such denial that this is clearly Jace in disguise. It is almost comical.

When you are cleaning and patching his wound, I imagine Jace looking around your room just swooning because this is your space. He heart swells and he almost cries when he noticed a framed picture of the two of you on your nightstand, right next to your pillow. Maybe it’s a picture of the two of you apple picking or some sort of favorite memory of his, with you. Like going to the beach or something very “coupley”, know what I mean? Like other people look at that particular picture and assume you two are dating because your faces are right next to each other, your arms are wrapped around one another and you are snuggled together. Little do you know, Jace also thinks of that photo as his favorite and he has a copy on his wall on his room at home.

Maybe feeling cheeky, Jace asks if that is your boyfriend and you say “Oh that’s my best friend Jace.” and his heart drops until you drop a hint that you have a crush on Jace are in love with Jace like maybe “Oh no that’s not my boyfriend. I wish he was though, but I think he sees me as a sister” or maybe something more vague like “Oh no that’s not my boyfriend but I wish…” and you cut yourself off and announce that he’s all patched up as Jace wishes with every bone in his body that you would finish your thought as he was hanging on to your every word. This entire interaction, Jace is resisting the urge to rip the mask off and lay you down on the bed and kiss you senseless.

She finishes patching him up and maybe feels guilty because she is secretly in love with her best friend Jace and she is excited to be flirting with Spiderman. She resists the urge to kiss his bandaged wound and she doesn’t know why she had such an intimate and personal urge in the first place since Spiderman is a stranger to her. But, she feels strangely drawn to him…as if she has known him for years…

The two of them both feel guilty for different reasons

I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE IVE MISSED RHIS AND IM BOOKING IT SO I CAN GET TO WRITING ROM COM GONE WRONF — i love uuuu thank u for this i’m freaking out ahahshshs

[a-french-coconut]

Travis Stoll (Part 14)

"...and then I kissed him !"

"I'm jealous now" Travis pouts, "Your get together story is so much better than mine."

"I've always been more creative than you, dear brother." Connor teases him.

"Aphrodite likes you both if you wanted to know," says an amused voice from behind Travis.

"Dad !" stutters Connor, his eyes widening, "What are you doing here ? Not that I don't want to see you ! But you never showed up before, wait no that sounds wrong-"

"It's okay Connor," Hermes laughs warmly, "You're right about me never showing up. I'm trying to make amends for that, if you'll let me."

"Well, you could begin by giving me a hug. It's unfair that Travis got one and I didn't."

Travis rolls his eyes at Connor's antics but seeing him and Hermes hugging is a happy sight, one he never thought he would see.

"You know," he ventures, "I'm sure Cecil, Julia and Alice would be thrilled to see you too."

"I would love to, believe me, but I'm already overstepping by being here." His father laments, voice heavy with regret. "Tell them I say hi and that I will come visit them in their dreams more often okay ?"

Connor nods and then leans towards Hermes, eyes sparkling.

"You know", he whispers "Julia's birthday is tomorrow and she's been talking a lot about a certain pair of shoes."

"Oh," the god smiles in return, "what kind of shoes ?"

"Flying ones."

"I haven't gifted one of my shoes to my children since... well you know who."

Of course they know, it was one of the rare moments Luke showed affection for Hermes.

The jovial atmosphere glooms a little at their deceased brother's mention.

"Ah yes," Connor winces, "sorry to bring that up. I'm sure she would love something else too ! Like rollers or an invisibility item, like Annabeth's.

"No, no she'll get the shoes." Hermes says firmly, "I promised to Luke to be a better dad and I will keep my promise the best I can."

"For all it's worth," Travis pipes up, "I think you're doing a good job right now. I wouldn't have been able to save Connor without your help. Thank you dad, for being here."

On second thought, he softy adds, "Luke would have been very proud of you."

Hermes' eyes, blue like theirs, shine and for one second, Travis is sure he's going to see him cry. But his caduceus begins to buzz intensely, messages popping up at a very rapid pace.

"I have to go but I'll try to keep in touch more often. Pray to me if you need anything and don't tell Julia about her birthday present !"

Hermes hugs them a final time.

"I love you both and I'm very proud of you each."

"Love you too dad ." they answer in chorus, high-fiving in each other without looking.

"Travis Alexander Stoll !"

"Oooh, Will calling you by your full name ?" Connor whistles, "you're dead, it was nice knowing you."

"Shut up and hide me."

He barely manages to sleep under the cot before he sees colourful flip flops entering the room and advancing straight to Connor's bed.

"Morning Stoll, glad to see you alive ! Now give up your brother, please." Will says brightly.

"What did he do to you ?"

"Nothing particular."

"Really ?" Connor asks suspiciously.

Don't believe him Connie, he's lying

"Really !"

"I don't believe you."

Multiple things happen at the same time.

Will groans, stomping his foot petulantly, causing dust to fly from the ground and right into Travis's nose.

Unprepared for that violent attack, he sneezes.

He hears Connor's facepalming, a mumbled "why did I even try" before Will, quick as a snake, grabs him by the legs and pulls him out from the under the bed.

"I didn't do anything !"

"That's exactly why I'm angry !"

"That's a first."

"Will", Connor intervenes, watching the scene in front of him with unhidden glee, "what exactly did Travis not do ?"

"A medical check-up !"

"Hey, you're the one who let me go yesterday night" Travis protests, "I figured I was fine !"

"You broke three ribs ! How did you even manage to sleep ?"

"I was very tired."

Will rolls his eyes before lifting him onto the cot next to Connor.

"You're grounded for the rest of the day."

"No I'm not."

"Doctor's orders."

"Don't care."

"Doctor's orders."

"And worried brother pretty please ?"

Will's stubbornness combined with his brother's puppy eyes ?

"Fine" he relents "I'm grounded."

"Great !" Connor says, "Doc, am I good to go ?"

Will nods mindlessly, preoccupied with healing Travis.

"You leaving me here alone ?" He gasps at the betrayal.

"Mmmmh, yeah pretty much. See you later !"

Ignoring his brother's threats, Connor leaves the infirmary snickering.

There's someone he wants to see.

He founds him on his cabin's porch, looking absolutely bored.

"Malcolm !"

His boyfriend's head snap toward his direction and two seconds later, he's tackled to the ground.

"Hey, watch out !" he says jokingly, "I just got out of the infirmary, don't send me back."

Malcolm rolls to lay on the grass next to him, intertwining their hands.

"It was scary to see you like that." he says quietly.

"I know Mal but it's okay now, I'm alive and well." he reassures his boyfriend, pecking him on the cheek. "I have no intention to die yet, still got plenty of things to do."

"Like what ?"

"Robbing some banks, travel the world with Travis," he turns to look Malcolm in the eyes, "kissing you."

It's adorable how easy Malcolm gets flustered. His face becomes a strawberry red Connor likes a lot and the usually collected son of Athena loses his words.

"Can't you already cross the last thing of your bucket list ?" Malcolm asks, breathless.

"What if I want to do it again ?" he leans closer, "It's one of my favourite things to do."

His face is hovering on Malcolm's, impossibly close and Connor just wants to kiss him.

"It's one of mine too."

"You like kissing yourself ?" He asks teasingly, laughing unabashedly when a new shade of red colours his boyfriend's face.

"You know that's not what I meant-"

He doesn't let him complain but rather kisses him like he loves to do, he kisses him until he's out of oxygen, until Malcolm understands how much he loves him, until the butterflies in his stomach flutter intensely.

He rolls back to the ground, breathless and flushed, enjoying the soft touch of grass and the warmth of Malcolm's body pressed against his.

"Never cross that one of your list." says Malcolm, "Please."

"Not counting on it."

"And don't think I won't get my revenge either now that we are boyfriends. I'll get you back for that chess game."

"Oh darling" Connor laughs, "I should hope so !"

He grins mischievously before getting up and helping Malcolm to do the same.

"As much as I would love to stay the whole day with you, I need to save Travis from Will and his mother hen attitude. I kinda owe him my life so..."

"Of course, I understand don't worry." Malcolm smiles, "I'll see you later ?"

"Of course, darling."

He kisses him again, a shorter kiss than the previous one but still as enjoyable, and then goes back to the infirmary.

When he arrives, he hears Travis and Will bickering as always, their banter echoing in the building.

"Stop them, please !" Kayla dramatically exclaims, "I still have one hour on my shift and I will not survive it if those two don't shut up !"

"You could curse them to speak only in rimes," he suggests, "that'll get them to shut up."

"Connor, you're genius !"

"Yeah, I know."

As predicted, he hears Travis and Will's terrified screams when Kayla barges in, bow and arrows in hands, and then nothing.

When he enters the room, Travis is seated on his bed, mouth firmly closed and Will is taking his vitals, as silent as his brother is.

"Hey guys, I'm back, how is it going ?"

Travis glares at him and gives him a thumb up followed by a succession of gesturing Connor doesn't quite understand.

"Sorry brother mine but I don't understand what you are trying to say."

Travis points at him and then drag his hand across his throat.

"Ah, you're threatening me ! I thought you were having a seizure." Connor snickers at his brother's furious face.

"Wait for Capture the Flag, I'll hunt you like a stag !"

"That's poetic !" He laughs and even Will snickers, earning himself a punch from Travis.

Of course, it results in full brawl between the two and Conor only wishes he had a camera with him.

It would have been great to capture Travis's face after Will landed a particular well aimed pillow hit on his face.

Bonus :

Connor is woke up by his sister's demonic screeching.

"Julia, it's six in the morning" he groans, "go to sleep."

"Dad sent me a birthday gift !" Julia says excitedly.

Of course, that wakes him entirely and from the creaking below him, Travis is also awake.

"And what did he give you ?" He asks.

"He offered me a pair of his flying shoes ! The ones I've been talking about for the last month ! He actually listened, I can't believe it."

"Well," Travis says and Connor can hear the smile in his voice, "be sure to give an extra offering at breakfast today."

"Can we go now ? I want to say thank you !"

"Eeh, why not ?" Cecil pipes up from his own bed, "We're all already awake."

"Yeah," Alice agrees, "plus we could prank all the other cabins ! Like, put glue on their benches."

"Now that's a great idea !" Travis says getting up and ruffling their little sister's hair.

"Come on Hermes Cabin, line up ! We've got work to do !"

Up on Olympus, when it's time to receive the daily offerings, Hermes inhales the sweet scent of chocolate cake, M&M's and... a picture ?

Indeed, his children had send him a photo of the Pavillon with something gleaming on the other cabins's wood benches.

When he realises what they are up to, Hermes laughs wholeheartedly, earning himself a stare from satyrs and nymphs alike.

When Apollo comes to him to ask him if he received his offerings because he hasn't, Hermes laughs even harder.

What a great time to love and feel proud of his children.

THE END !!! I loved writing this little fic, it was so fun ( :

And angsty by moments of course !

Thank you for reading this ❤️

[citrusses]

January: 2023 Wrapped 🎁🍊

*some* of my favorite 2023 fics, by month they were published (or started to publish, or finished publishing, it's arbitrary bc i make the rules), plus some thoughts on what made these fics so special.

January | February | March | April, May, June | July | August | September | October | November | December

Chicken Shop Date by @sorrybutblog (T, 2K)

Draco and Harry sit down for an interview. Or is it a date?

This is such a fun premise and the Harry/Draco banter just sizzles. The atmosphere is so rich! 2K words of perfection that pack an outsized punch.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134K)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

A masterpiece that deconstructs every relationship in the HP universe and then rebuilds it, that does mind-boggling things with narrative structure, that stressed me out so badly I felt physically ill, that was so moving it left me bursting into tears for days after I read it, that had the funniest single line I've read in a fic maybe ever. So far reading this is the only time I've ever checked the tags on a fic for "happy ending" because I was so emotionally overwhelmed by it that I needed to know it would be ok in the end. I can't overstate how much I love this one.

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed (E, 8K)

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

A gorgeous, painful story that explores a kind of Harry/Draco dynamic that's not seen as often in fics (a SAD one), but is done exceptionally well here. It hurts so good!

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58K)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed. Never a man to squander an opportunity for revenge (and what would probably be a spectacular shag), Draco vows to make Potter his for the weekend. Now all Draco has to do is convince him.

@the-sinking-ship regularly writes: my favorite kind of Draco, my favorite kind of romance/getting together AND my favorite kind of smut. This fic is all of those things.

Polar Night/Midnight Sun by toomuchplor (E, 54K)

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy. It's been ten years since they crossed paths, and Malfoy isn't exactly what Harry expected or remembered. For one thing, he wears a lot more hand-knits? When a sudden winter storm strands the pair, unable to use magic to rescue themselves, they take shelter in a one-room Norwegian hytte.

The hottest fic in the coldest setting, this one made me absolutely FERAL. The most evocative scenery, incredible characterization, and the perfect pacing building to an explosively sexy and tender relationship. Also I would read like, 100K more words on just the mittens and jumpers and scarves of this fic, which are not items of clothing I have cared much about in the past. It's just that every detail, down to the smallest, is incredible!

When It Returns by @academicdisasterfic (M, 8K)

‘You’re late, layabout,’ Malfoy drawled, pushing the whiskey over to him. ‘I’ll have you know that I am very busy maintaining a whole house and garden by myself now.’ ‘Oooh, the dead husband card. Before any alcohol. Is that a record?’ Harry's husband is dead, and Malfoy is the only one who gets it. Or, the one where they drink at a straight man pub, renovate a house, and learn how to find joy again.

January was a good month for feeling bad. It's another angsty one! This one is full of beautiful healing in the face of a loss that feels very real, Draco annoying Harry out of his grief spiral (but in a loving way?) and Harry being on the right side of almost too stubborn for it to work. I have read and reread this many times already!