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megumimania · 6 months

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TRICK OR TREAT - gojo satoru

summary: gojo takes halloween very seriously to the point where he competes against his neighbour for best decorated house in the neighbourhood.

warnings: fluff, married!au, gojo is a bit extra in this, halloween ends when i say so! petty gojo, the trio would definitely go as the plastics, gojo beefing kids, i miss him

if there’s one thing gojo satoru doesn’t play about it’s the holidays. particularly halloween.

he’d been dragging you out for the past month to different stores for decorations in order to transform your home into a terrifying haunted house. he’d brought out all sorts of candy that he hid around the garden for the annual scavenger hunt that the neighbourhood kids often enjoyed doing. to say he didn’t enjoy halloween was an understatement—he loved it and took pride in it.

“don’t you think this is enough?” you asked, as you placed the last of the decorations down on the front yard. “it’s never enough honey.” he replied in a sing song voice, placing a kiss on your cheek. you grumbled in response but it was hard to stay annoyed at him considering how fine he looked in his costume as gomez addams, even temporarily dyeing his hair black to commit to the look.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he smirked, before doing various poses which made you giggle. “I don’t think i wanna remember that.” you retorted but your comment fell on deaf ears as satoru was once again butting heads with your next door neighbour mr yamaguchi. you were cordial with the yamaguchi’s and had been invited back to their place for dinner many times unlike satoru who had been invited once and never again.

it’s probably because of his ongoing pissing contest with mr yamaguchi, who like satoru, takes much pride in decorating and the holidays. halloween is a more of a contest than a holiday for them both as they go all out with the lights, decorations and candy as they try to win the bragging rights for ‘best decorated house’. which often leaves these grown men (mainly satoru) to engage in childish and petty antics like stealing decorations, bursting inflatables and defacing pumpkins.

satoru stalks back to the house with a annoyed look on his face, he rests his head on your shoulder letting out a deep breath. “can you believe that he’s hiring actors for his haunted house? that haunted house thing was my idea first and two—thats so exploitative! depriving these actors from experiencing halloween joy, what a cruel world we live in.” he sighed dramatically looking over at the lawn. you’re barely listening, focusing on how cute he looks when he’s angry.

“babe you’re not even listening to me.” he whines burying his head into your chest. “i am!” you protest in response rubbing his back soothingly. “im sorry that he stole your idea that has totally been done before.” you say in a comforting tone, trying not burst into a fit of giggles.“well no one was doing haunted houses before we arrived anyways! so he totally stole my idea!” he continued still pissed at the whole ordeal.

“satoru, honey, you can’t call his idea exploitative when you’re literally paying your students to do the same thing.” you countered brushing the stray hairs away from his face, satoru frowned knowing you had a point but still continued his defence. “megumi, yuji and nobara volunteered their sweet and precious time to help their old sensei out. i didn’t have to bribe them to help me.” he said matter-of-factly denying your claims. you folded your arms giving him a look that told him that you didn’t believe him at all.

he raised his arms as if to surrender. “alright you got me. i had to resort to bribery to get them to help me. i didn’t want to deal with the mean teens this year.” he pouted crossing his arms. “it’s no fun scaring kids who call you an ‘overgrown furby’ or a ‘jack frost reject’.” you let out a small laugh that is quickly shut down by satoru’s glare. “is that why you wanted us to go as gomez and morticia this year?” you asked quickly changing the subject.

“maybe,” he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “i knew you’d make a fine morticia and i was right.” he takes your hand and twirls you around slowly taking in how gorgeous you look, he still looks at you with the same twinkle in his eyes from when you first met, making you giddy. “can’t believe i married the finest woman in the world.” he smiled softly before pulling you into a passionate kiss. the loud blare of a car horn made you two jump. “oi lovebirds, do you want our help or not!” nobara yelled out from the car.

she stepped out the car a few seconds later with yuji and megumi in tow, all dressed in pink. its clear that they had better places to be than here right now. evident from the bits and pieces you picked up from megumi’s mumbling about ‘missing the party of the year’ and this being a ‘complete waste of time’, you kinda felt sorry for him but you knew that no one was safe from being roped into your husband’s schemes.

“from the all pink outfits im guessing mean girls?” you smiled taking in their outfits. nobara beamed pulling yuji and megumi together. “im regina, yuji’s karen and megumi is gretchen.” apart from megumi’s usual sullen expression that was more prominent after having to wear a shitty party city wig and a thin crop top—a testament to how much gojo spoiled him, you couldn’t deny they all looked adorable.

you gave them a sympathetic smile, as satoru whisked them away to the garden to help them prepare for the scaring they were going to do later. in the midst of your husband’s usual antics you found it adorable how he put so much thought and energy into halloween to make it an enjoyable experience for you both as well as the neighbourhood

—

halloween night was underway and it was a success, satoru basked in the praise about the decor from the other neighbours and passer-by’s who were in the area, you also received many compliments for your costume. you resigned yourself to trick or treat duty partly because of the cute and creative costumes you got to see every time you opened the door and the fact that satoru brought out his best candy only for halloween that you could snack on.

the doorbell rang again whilst you were refilling the bucket of candy. you ran to open the door it was kei mr yamaguchi’s son aka the son of the enemy. “trick or treat!” he smiled waving his bucket in front of you. he looked adorable in his spiderman costume and thanked you as you filled his bucket with extra candy. you heard a loud gasp from behind you, you let out a sigh as it came from none other than your husband.

“so you’re fraternising with the enemy now?” he said feigning shock. you chuckled at his question, not thinking he’d stoop so low that he’d beef with a five year old. “‘toru he is five years old, i don’t think he has any hidden agenda against you.” you looked at kei who seemed unaffected by the conversation. he looked more interested in the screams coming from the haunted house garden. “can i go into the haunted house now?” he asked clearly not wanting to be stuck in this conversation for any longer.

“of course sweetie, in fact satoru will take you!” your husband stopped mid chew of his candy, opening his mouth to protest but the look on your face made it clear it wasn’t up for any discussion. “c’mon little man let’s go.” he sighed before leading kei into the garden, sticking his tongue out at you as he walked past.

—

as the night drew to a close, you slumped down against the kitchen island, as the last of the kids left the house. gojo walked in with a smile on his face, “how was it?” you asked with a tired smile as he bent down to give you a kiss on the top of your head. “i’ve practically won halloween this year. mr yamaguchi ain’t got nothing on me!” he says proudly before stifling a yawn.

“i think we should celebrate by calling it a night.” you chuckle looking at his weary expression. he’s ditched the contacts and reverted back to his blindfold, it seems that even the strongest needs to recuperate sometimes after engaging in a month long battle with his neighbour. you yelp as he uses the last remainder of his strength to carry you to the bedroom, bridal style.

“is it bad that im already thinking about what we’re gonna do for christmas?” he whispers in your ear, holding you close against him. on most nights you’d entertain his thoughts but after today’s events you’re too tired to even give him a coherent reply. “satoru it is three am go to sleep.” you groan annoyedly to which he chuckles in response. “just messing with ya babe, goodnight.” he says softly before turning off the lamp.

later whilst he dozes off, you silently thank whoever’s above that you’ve managed to survive the worst holiday of the year before closing your eyes for the night.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #gojo x black!reader #gojo x reader #jjk #loved writing this #jjk drabbles #jjk fics #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk first years #jjk trio going as the plastics yup!#jjk gojo #jjk imagines

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k1ngdom-of-thieves · 1 year

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how would the first years react to finding out reader is a girl?

You guys really like these types of requests! Thank you so much for supporting me.

Here’s it with the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders

First years + Finding out reader is a girl!

Ace Trappola

Despite being one of your closest friends, Ace is probably one of the last people to find out. He doesn’t really pay the best attention to his surroundings.

How he found out was by complete accident. He was walk by Sam’s shop when the man himself called out to him to bring you a package.

Luckily he was already on the way to Ramshackle, so this wasn’t that big of a deal. He was still grumbling about doing “your chores” though. And Ace being Ace, was hungry and decided to check your package to see if there was food in it.

What he found wasn’t food, but an entire box of clothes with women’s sizing. Needless to say, you had an extremely confused Ace knocking on the door.

“Hey!! Are you really a girl?! I was looking at this box-I was hungry- Ugh, I’m making myself look like a huge jerk, aren’t I?”

Deuce Spade

Deuce is another who wouldn’t notice for a very long time. I think the only way he’ll realize is if either you tell him, or someone else does.

It’ll be a lot easier if you tell him straight up. If someone else does, he’s just going to think that they’re lying to get a reaction out of him for a while.

He’s gonna be so confused for a while after he finds out. Please give him a minute before telling him anything else. He’s doing the shinji pose lmaoo

The poor guy feels so guilty over making a simple mistake. Expect him to randomly apologize for the next week or so.

“W-WHAT?? I’m so sorry! I thought this whole time- ugh, I can’t believe I made such a big mistake. Huh? You’re not mad? Oh..ok.”

Jack Howl

Jack knew you smelt different from the others in the school, he just couldn’t tell if was because you were magic-less, from a different world, or just because you were around Grim for too long. The idea of you being a girl briefly crossed his mind, but he didn’t give it too much thought.

He found out when you were complaining to Grim about Crowley only giving you clothes in men’s sizing. Now he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but with his huge ears, he managed to accidentally overhear.

Jack felt incredibly guilty over listening in on a private conversation, but his surprise ultimately overpowered his guilt. He accidentally lets out a loud “Huh?” before covering his mouth with his hand.

When you called out to whoever was listening, Jack awkwardly shuffled out for you to see, lowered ears and all. He immediately started apologizing as his tail stood limp by his side.

*Sigh* “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but be honest with me, is the fact that you’re a girl supposed to be a secret? Or am I just the last person to realize?”

Epel Felmier

Epel didn’t think much of you more feminine appearance. I mean, he’s almost in the exact same boat as you, so he doesn’t have much room to judge.

This is also what led to him finding out. He was complaining about Vil putting him under a strict diet again and how he was glad there was at least one other “pretty boy” at NRC.

Which led to you correcting him. “You know I’m not actually a guy, right?” Poor guy froze up immediately.

This country boy feels the slight pang of betrayal in his heart; he thought you two were in this together! But it turns out he must bare the curse of “cute” alone. He’s so dramatic lmao.

“Wait, but then how did you- nevermind. Guess I’ll have to deal with Vil’s stupid anti-aging exercises on my own then!” He doesn’t realize that this doesn’t change much of anything, you guys aren’t even in the same dorm.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek never considered you to actually be a girl. Mostly because he was always paying more attention to Malleus’s “great deeds of the day”. He literally just helped someone with their homework.

He’s also another person that will only believe it if you tell him straight up. He’ll think that everyone else is just trying to make a fool out of an esteemed guard of Malleus!

If this is supposed to be a secret, why tell Sebek, first of all make sure you tell him in an empty room. He’s gonna be so loud about the entire ordeal.

If it’s not a secret, that just makes things easier for you. Either you can tell him straight up, or someone else will end up doing for you. He’s gonna feel terrible about it regardless though, so prepare yourself for a very loud apology.

“I HUMBLY APOLOGIZE FOR MY TRANSGRESSIONS! I-oh, I don’t need to yell? Alright, I am still deeply sorry though.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #ace trappola #twst ace #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #twst deuce #deuce spade #jack howl #twst jack #jack howl x reader #twst epel #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader

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banshee-king · 1 year

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Thoughts about each new Tyranid unit specifically:

The Screamer Killer is not bad. They’ve changed the posing on scything talons which you can also see on the Winged Prime and the Leapers. Like, before the talon arms were more bent at the wrist, more tucked back or ‘Z’ shaped. Now they’re more stretched forwards and I guess ‘C’ shaped. It’s such a minor detail, I’m not sure why I care, but it stood out to me. I also don’t think I love the face. I like the head, but the mouth/jaw looks weird to me. Don’t hate it though.

The Neurotyrant I like. It has SUCH a better name than Apex Swarmlord. It’s a LOT smaller than I hoped though. It honestly doesn’t look that much bigger than a Neurothrope, and it surely won’t be tankier than a Maleceptor. The Neurotyrant supposedly has better melee than a Neurothrope, but who cares about that? They’ve also highlighted it’s Shadow in the Warp ability, which we also saw in the trailer, so maybe it has extra range, denies 3 powers a turn, and maybe the little critters a +1 to deny tests? I hope it isn’t just a debuff beast, as that’s situational. With the changes to Psychic powers, I do wonder what unique abilities it’ll have?

The Neurogaunts are interesting. I think everyone thought they were Hormagaunts in the trailer. We are still getting updated Hormagaunts right GW? I like the name though, Tyranids have a rather simple naming convention that makes it rather easy to understand what a model does. I won’t be confusing what a Neurogaunt or Neurotyrant do. Interestingly this unit makes 11 models. The Nodebeast looks like a similar addition to what Termagants now have with Rippers. I wonder if this unit will be a Synapse Troops choice though? Will they be replacing Warriors who’ll become Elites or something? I hope not.

The Barbgaunts are another unit I thought were something else. Please let us still get updated Pyrovores/Biovores! I guess Barbgaunts fill a niche between Termagants and Hive Guard though. However with the former being a swarm and the latter being monstrous infantry (and Tyranids are known for swarms and monsters), the Barbgaunts feel… normal? Like they’re a unit of 5 to probably 10, Marine sized, supposedly closer firing than Hive Guard, so normal range. They’re not as unique I guess, but that could actually be for the better. With them sitting in the middle, it might push Termagants to be cheaper cannon-fodder, and Hive Guard to be rarer, more elite. I didn’t like the change to Termagants in 9th Ed, goes totally against their idea, so hopefully 10th Ed will be better. With Hive Guard also meant to be anti-tank, I’d like the Barbgaunts to have anti-heavy infantry weapons so the Exocrine isn’t our only ranged anti-Marine unit.

The Psychophage I was not expecting at all. It looks to be a little niche in that it’s anti-Psyker which not every army will have (also Maleceptor/Haruspex mix?). At the same time it does thematically fit with the Neurotyrant and Neurogaunts. If Tyranids weren’t psychic heavy already, they certainly are now. Poor Thousand Sons fans can only look on as Tyranids run rings around them. TSons can’t even get a single Psychic daemon engine. RIP.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #tyranids

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summersnow82 · 7 months

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The Scent of Roses - Part 5

Fanfiction_X-Men

Fictober 2023_Prompt 19: “What if we’re wrong?”

.....

Xavier’s property was vast, and it wasn’t uncommon for students to discover new nooks and crannies years after they’d been living in the mansion. The garden Sabrina led Rogue to was one of those delightful surprises. Tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the mansion the garden was quiet and serene with a bench, a small fountain, and the hypnotic smell of roses.

Sabrina took a deep breath in, closing her eyes and enjoying the quiet. “You know,” she said, “this is where I would come when I was homesick.” She opened her eyes and turned to look at Rogue who was sitting next to her on the bench. “It’s probably because it’s so quiet and well-hidden. A nice little escape from the constant buzzing in my mind.” She held up a hand, carefully removing a glove. “This bench retains so much of me it’s astounding, and now,” she smiled, leaning in and giving Rogue a wink, “it has some of you.” She ran a bare finger along the arm rest, and smiled wistfully as her eyes glowed briefly.

“Sabrina, I love it when we talk, but I kind of thought you brought me out here to talk me out of getting the cure.” Rogue shrugged, leaning forward on her knees and gazing out at the garden before them. “I’m going to get it, you know.” She cast a glance back at her mentor who was watching her fondly.

“I know. I knew the moment I saw it on TV. I just wanted to talk to you before you go. Make sure you’ve thought this through.”

Rogue frowned. “What’s there to think through? I’m not enough for Bobby like this, and now he’s fawning all over Kitty.”

Sabrina tilted her head back, narrowing her eyes against the sun. “If this is what you want, Rogue, don’t do it for a boy. Do it for yourself. Boys come and go, and the right one wouldn’t want to change you.”

“He doesn’t want to change me. I want to change me. I kill anyone I touch.” She stared at her hands, grimacing, and Sabrina understood the expression better now. Her insight into Hank was monumental; she’d known him for decades, and never known the true depths of his feelings about his mutation. What else didn’t she know about those she cared for dearly?

“You know,” Sabrina began slowly, “I was about your age when the Professor came to me for an active mission. He’d been hesitant because my empath abilities were the hardest thing for me to control, but this case was different.” She leaned forward on her knees, unintentionally matching Rogue’s pose. “A child had been taken from his bed in the middle of the night – tiny thing, maybe three – and his mother had died trying to stop it. The police had no clues, no evidence, no leads. But the Professor,” she turned to Rogue with a small smile, “had me. I found that sweet baby, reunited him with his father, and helped take a monster off the streets.”

Rogue was watching her thoughtfully. “You never told me that before. Is that why you do what you do now?”

Sabrina nodded. “Yup. Before I came here I worked with other mutants specifically finding lost and abducted children – human and mutant. I’ve been part of teams that stopped trafficking, ransoms, all kinds of evil. I never told you about that particular case because it was the hardest on me.” She tapped her temple. “I still see it when I dream sometimes. It’s always there now, all because I walked into a crime scene and removed my gloves.”

Rogue held her mentor’s gaze as she said, “You think I can do the same thing?”

Sabrina shook her head. “No, Marie. I think you can do more.” Rogue’s eyes widened just a touch, and Sabrina added, “You are incredibly powerful, Rogue. Your mutation – your gift – it has a huge amount of untapped potential, and if you get this cure it will all just disappear.”

“What if we’re wrong?” Rogue asked. “What if this is a way to bring peace, to really help others?”

“People hate, Rogue. It’s just what they do. If it’s not a mutation it’ll be a religion or a skin color or something else. We can’t limit who we are and hide to make them feel safe.” Rogue took a deep breath, and leaned back taking in everything Sabrina had just said. The older blonde followed suit, tilting her head back to the sun as a cool breeze drifted over them. “I’ll support you,” Sabrina said softly, “whatever your decision.” She opened her eyes to see silent tears running down the younger woman’s face.

“I hate what I am, Sabrina.” Rogue turned to her, her lower lip trembling. “I hate worrying I might hurt someone just by accidentally brushing up beside them. I hate worrying about crowds, and envying couples, and wondering if I would be a good mother one day. I feel like death walking.” Her voice broke, and more tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m cursed, Sabrina.”

“No.” Sabrina leaned forward, wrapping the younger woman in a hug. “No, you’re amazing, and wonderful, and so, so dear to me.” She could feel Rogue shake against her as she sobbed into her cardigan. She thought back to hours earlier when she’d begged Hank to go so she could cry in private, and he had begrudgingly obliged. He didn’t know – Rogue didn’t know – how intense the self-loathing and self-hatred she’d felt had been.

It was palpable, bitter on her tongue, heavy on her skin, suffocating her, smothering her, all-consuming. Sabrina didn’t know how to handle her situation with Hank, but it was suddenly very clear how she would help Rogue.

Clutching the younger girl to her she turned her head ever so slightly, and whispered, “I love you, Rogue.” Another shift, and she was pressing her lips to Rogue’s cheek.

Her thoughts were intentional as she did so. All her love, adoration, and praise for the younger woman was funneled to the front of her mind. She understood if Rogue wanted the cure, and there was a part of her that wouldn’t blame her for choosing it, but she wanted Rogue to make that decision with all the facts.

Know I love you.

Know I admire you.

Know I’m proud of you.

Know I believe in you.

Know I will always be there when you need me.

Know I would die to protect you.

Know I trust you.

She could feel Rogue’s power from the moment of contact, and she felt like someone had shoved a vacuum hose down her throat. They were trying to turn her inside out, consume everything, and leave nothing behind. It was becoming harder to breath, harder to see, and everything felt so heavy.

The Professor and Storm were going to be so mad at her for this.

I love you, Marie.

One last thought, and she meant it completely. She loved Rogue. She’d fight for her, die for her, do whatever it took to protect her no matter the cost. Motherly instincts paired with sisterly affection would drive her to great lengths for the young girl, and she would not regret this decision.

“Sabrina? Sabrina!”

Everything was fading, and she wondered if perhaps there would have been a more organized way to do this. A way where she wasn’t lying on the cold gravel of the walking path. She’d just washed her hair, after all.

“Sabrina!” Rogue’s cry was getting fainter, the world dimmer, and then there was nothing.

……

Medical bay was a cold and sterile environment Sabrina had never cared for as a child. As an adult, she appreciated the technology and the location, but she still cared little for the facilities. “You’re awake.” Jean’s warm, familiar voice was a comfort Sabrina appreciated amongst the intense headache. “Don’t open your eyes, and don’t try to talk. I’ll get you something for the pain.” Sabrina relaxed against the firm bed.

Rogue? She thought at her mentor as the older woman cleaned a spot on her arm and injected her with something Sabrina trusted would ease the pain.

“She’s fine. Worried about you, but that’s to be expected. What exactly were you thinking, Sabrina? I’ve got a list of people ready to give you hell for that stunt.”

You know what I was thinking. Or you could.

She could hear the smile in Jean’s voice. “Hank said you weren’t yourself. I suppose obstinate is better than hostile.” Sabrina hated how her insides fluttered at the mere mention of Hank’s name. She really was pathetic. “It’s not pathetic to be in love, Sabrina.”

Unrequited love.

Jean was silent for a moment, then took Sabrina’s gloved hand in her own. “Yes. Even that.”

I wanted her to see herself the way I see her, Jeanie. There was so much hatred and self-loathing in that room. Didn’t you feel it?

A pause, and then, “Emotions and thoughts don’t always coexist, I’m afraid.”

Hank, too. Did you know?

A sigh. “I’ve suspected for quite some time.” She squeezed the younger woman’s hand. “We’ve all hated ourselves at one time or another, Sabrina.”

The blonde rolled her head to the side, and opened her eyes to see the red head. The medicine was beginning to take effect, and she was getting woozy. “I know, but there wasn’t a cure before. I wanted her to know how amazing she is. Now, even if she loses her powers she’ll always know at least one person wasn’t afraid of her.” Sabrina’s eyes drifted closed. “If I could give her that it was well worth it.”

Jean held Sabrina’s hand until her breathing became deep and rhythmic. When the blonde woke she should feel exponentially better. “It’s hard to be angry with her after an explanation like that.” Charles voice came from the doorway, and he rolled into the room to be by Sabrina’s side. “She seems so fragile to me sometimes.”

“She was pretty broken when she came here,” Jean said.

Charles nodded. “But she’s not anymore, is she?” Jean gave him a soft smile, shaking her head. “You know, even when you’re not my students anymore I still can’t help but worry.” He turned from Sabrina to look at Jean. “Hank called. He’s coming back from Washington tonight with news.”

“I wish he’d let one of us go with him,” Jean said with a shiver. “Just knowing that thing is out there makes me afraid to leave the grounds.”

“We’re not going to be afraid, my dear,” Charles assured her. “We’re going to be prepared.”

#fictober23 #fictober #fictober 2023 #x-men #hank mccoy #sabrina snow #my ocs #rogue #rogue x-men #beast x-men #charles xavier #jean grey #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #hank x o

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spinachandhoney · 2 months

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SnakeFace episode 14 script

[prone to change]

[script under cut]

The five rushed through the rain to the York manor, which was the closest option though it was still a far way to run. Kim unlocked the front and ushered everyone inside before slamming the door against the wind.

“Mom!” Ivan shouted as he hung his coat up. “You home?”

“I’m upstairs!” Jamie replied. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kim gathered some towels for the five of them to dry off in the den. Joey fixed a fire while Kim left to make some hot cocoa.

“Hey, kids,” Jamie smiled. “Who’s this?”

“This is Hans,” Ivan said, towelling his hair dry. “His mom runs the cafe.”

“Well, hello, Hans. I’m Ivan’s mother.”

“Hello,” Hans smiled, hanging his letterman up in front of the fire.

“It doesn’t look like the storm is going to let up until later tonight,” Kim said, coming back with a bundle of steaming cups. “Hans, do you want to let your parents know you’ll be home late?”

“That’s probably a good idea- as long as it’s okay with your parents?”

“It’s fine with me,” Jamie said. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, Hans.”

The wolf smiled.

“Oh!” Val sat up. “My stuff should be coming in tomorrow, so there’ll probably be some packages delivered here.”

“Oh, rad?” Joey looked up. “What theme are you going for?”

“Probably something similar to my room at home.”

“Laaaaame.”

“I mean, I like how my room looks. It’s always dark because of the blackout curtains, so I like to have a lot of candles for a more subtle light source.”

“Look at you caring about room decor,” Ivan said. “I just threw stuff on the shelves and called it good.”

“Why would anyone ever let you decorate your own room.”

“You’re the one with sconces and dead roses as your choice of decoration.”

“Don’t have to worry about watering the roses if they’re already dead.”

“He has a point,” Joey admitted.

“Says the guy who panics at the sight of a wilting leaf.”

“I pride myself in my gardening skills.”

There was a pause. “So how long have you all known each other?” Hans asked.

“Well, I’ve known Ivan and Kim for about two weeks now,” Val said. “And Joey joined the gang on- was it Monday?”

“Yeah, about two days ago, then,” Joey confirmed.

“You guys act like you’ve known each other for years,” Hans chuckled.

“I think that might just be because of Joey’s sarcasm,” Val muttered.

“It’s a gift,” Joey said confidently.

Kim let Hans pick a room to stay the night in, bringing out some of the inflatable mattresses for him and Val. The wolf happened to choose the room next to Val’s, which shared one of the master bathrooms. Two sinks, a large bathtub, and a double-wide shower. The rooms were direct across the building from Ivan and Kim’s rooms, which were on either side of the second bathroom on the same floor. Joey’s room was on the adjacent wall with its own balcony. Kim made sure to cover Val’s window with the closest thing to blackout curtains in case the sun happened to be out the next morning.

“The storm isn’t supposed to let up until around eight in the morning,” Kim said as she covered the window. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, I’d hate to wake up to third-degree sunburns,” Val joked. Kim rolled her eyes.

“I still think it’s amazing how well you all get along not even in two weeks of knowing each other.”

“You’re relevant to that comment too, you know. I mean, I’ve known you not even twenty-four hours and we’re practically sharing a room.”

“There are worse ways to get to know someone.”

“Alright, that should be good,” Kim stepped away from the window. “Sorry, it isn’t much, but it’ll keep you safe.”

“That’s all that really matters right now. If worse comes to worst, your parents are literal witch doctors.”

Kim laughed. “This is true.”

Literally just Joey crying over a wilted plant (Shinji pose)

#snakeface comic #webtoon #webtoon canvas #webcomic creator #webcomic #script #snakeface script

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avvy-lavvy · 9 months

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Chapter four

The Photographer fem!oc x Tom Kaulitz

-The Morning Of Pictures-

Prue woke up not feeling well, there was no specific feeling other than feeling off. Tom had seemed to pick up on it so he tried to stay on her nice side. He played some music before handing her some breakfast from the hotel. She happily took the food as she mumbled. “What all do we have to do today?”

“Pictures, after that we have a free day.”

“Oh thank fuck, honestly I’m drained.” She spoke as she got up to get changed. Tom watched for a moment before speaking. “Yea I can tell, you look out of it. I don’t know how to put it in words but yea.”

“I look out of it because I am. Honestly I think I might be coming down with a cold.” She slipped on her outfit for the day before she spoke again. “Also wear something different for the shoot. We want you and the others to pop, not look normal.” She didn’t intend it to but it sounded kinda mean. Thankfully Tom understood she didn’t mean it the way it sounded.

Tom started to get dressed once Prue finished. “How about thi-“ he got cut off by Prue.

“No. Pick out a blue one, it’ll look better.” Tom just nodded. He trusted the girl, she had good taste in fashion. While he got sorted she went and harassed the rest of the band. Making sure they all looked decent.

Before they knew it they were headed to the photo shoot. “No way! We aren’t posting any pictures with me unless we hide my face.” Bill looked at her quickly “wait really? We could post as long as we hide your face?”

Prue took a moment to think about it. “Sure. But ONLY. If we do it in a fun and/or cool way.” Before she could even speak again all four boys said “DEAL!” Prue couldn’t help but laugh. The boys wanted to show her off but weren't really sure how to do so while staying respectful. But this gave them the chance.

They each get off the tour bus one by one before heading to the set up for the photo shoot. Prue started getting her cameras ready while the boys messed around. “You’re FALLINGGGGG for her!” They teased Tom and he only protested. “I am -NOT- falling for her we agreed it’s just some fun.”

“Just some fun ALWAYS turns into something Tom. Have you not paid attention to the movies?” Bill spoke and Tom only shook his head. “Well those aren’t real. This is real life not some book or movie”

“You say that now but have you seen how you look at her? Or how you even talk about her?” Georg spoke leaving Tom stuck in his own mind. ‘Maybe they’re right. But it’s probably just because we tend to sleep together. After that happens a lot I’m sure it’s bound for there to be feelings.’ Tom was in for some heart break. Prue didn’t feel the same way.

She had been listening to the conversation. ‘That is NOT how that works. I’m not falling for him so how could he be falling for me? Sure, I have a crush, he’s cute and good in bed. But that’s all it is. A simple crush.’ She thought to herself before finally speaking.

“Alright losers, pose” The boys looked over before they did as told. Prue walked over and started to move them some. “I need it to look more natural.” She carefully moves them each just ever so slightly before finally stepping back.

“Perfect.” She took a couple pictures, the sound of her camera clicking lingering in the air for a moment. “P! Get over here! You gotta get some pictures with us.” Gustav yelled over to her.

“One second I have to set it up.” She spoke as she put on the timer for the camera before running over where they take funny pictures, hiding her face in strategic ways. One of which was her standing in the middle and the boys stretched, using their arms and hands to hide her face. Another was just as a joke but her and Tom acted like they kissed while they others acted surprised and ‘OMG LOOK’ as if they were fans or paparazzi.

They all went ahead and got some other pictures. It started to rain and they used that to their advantage even just playing around for a while after they got all the pictures.

By the end they were soaking wet and laughing.

“Letting our inner child out was much needed.” Georg spoke and all the others nodded along in agreement.”Truly.” Prue smiled a little at them all. She felt at home, she never understood what people meant when they said home was a person….But now she does. Home is four German boys who love chaos, even through the craziness she felt somehow at peace knowing home doesn’t have to be a place or a single person.

Prue was snapped out of her own head when she realized she was cold. “If I wasn't already coming down with a cold I sure will be now.” She laughs before feeling two of the boys grab her arms. “P! There’s a park!!” They all headed over “I CALL ONE OF THE SWINGS!” Prue yelled out but wasn’t fast enough the boys beat her to all four swings.

“No fair! You guys had a head start.” She pouted but was swiftly grabbed by Tom who placed her on his lap. “Come on now P, you don’t think I’m gonna leave you hanging do you?” Her back was pressed against his chest, she sank into the warmth of him. “Maybe. Who knows.” She responded back as Tom let one hand snake around her waist while the other held the chain on the swing.

“Yes, well I just so happen to care.” The boy chuckled and he and Prue started to hear the others whispering and giggling like little girls. “Get a roommmmm” all three spoke in sync and Prue and Tom just roll their eyes.

“Get over yourselves it’s not like we’re actually a couple.” Those last words rang in Tom’s mind. He knew it was true but it still hurt…maybe he was falling for their photographer.

Tom was silent for a moment before speaking. “Yea…we aren’t together it’s just some fun. She sits on Bill's lap all the time.”

“Me and Prue don’t sleep together though….she’s usually sitting on me so she can be comfy while doing my makeup or painting my face. She sits on my lap cause she’s my best friend. She sits on yours cause she fucks you. Big difference Tom.”

Prue just laughed. “Bill has a point. BUTTT we still aren’t a couple and aren’t stripping. So I think we’ll be fine for now.”

“LOVE BIRDS”

“We aren’t love birds!”

They eventually ended up leaving because Prue and even the others were getting cold. But Prue also started to not feel well. They walk into the hotel and say their goodbyes for the time being before heading to their rooms.

Prue starts to peel her clothes off, it felt like they wanted to stick to her and she couldn’t help but hate that feeling.”Hot.” She heard Tom speak from behind her and she rolls her eyes. “Tom, not tonight I feel like shit.”

He looks at her concerned for a moment. “Here, sit down. I’ll grab you clean clothes.” Prue just sat down while Tom came back with clothes he thinks she’d like to wear. “Thanks.” She smiled slightly at him before she slipped the clothes on.

“What exactly feels bad? I can see if we have anything for it.” He wouldn’t help but be worried and care. Prue truly meant a lot to him.

“I don’t know, I just feel off. I’m a little achy and my stomach kind of feels like shit.”

Tom paused for a moment. “We haven’t eaten yet, maybe that’s it? I’ll grab the others and we can figure out what to do for lunch.”

After about twenty minutes they all agreed on McDonald’s “I WANT CHICKEN NUGGETS!” Prue yelled like a child as she got up, tripping in the process.

“Ok ok, so nugget meal, 2 Big Mac meals, a double quarter pounder meal and a McRi-“

“AND a milkshake please.” Prue spoke and bill looked at her. “How about you just tag along with me so I don't have to suffer alone?”

Prue thought for a moment before she nodded. “Deal. But you’re driving my feet hurt.” She grabbed her bag and jacket before heading out to her van.

“WAIT Prue where are your keys?” Bill got hit with said keys as he followed the girl out of the hotel. “Damn Bill, can’t catch?” The boy would just groan. “I wasn’t expecting it to be thrown at me-“

Prue just laughed before jumping into the van. Bill followed soon after. “I hate your van with a passion P.”

“Yes- well it’s the only car that’s not the tour bus that we have. SO- deal with it cause I love her.”

“I still think it’s weird you named your car.” He spoke as he began driving. “So, you’ve been feeling off all day. I could see it. Are you okay?” Prue looked at him for a moment. “Yea, I’m fine. Tom thinks it’s because I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Do YOU think that’s why you’ve felt off?” Prue’s silence said a lot and he glanced at her. “What do you think it is?”

“Well- i don’t know, maybe a cold or- something?”

“Prue…what’s something? I know you’re avoiding saying it.” Prue looked at him for a moment before she spoke, her words all slurred together quickly. “I’m late and i think it might be something more severe than a cold…like 18 years severe or until I die of old age severe.”

“PRUDENCE MEA YOU ARE NOT-“

“SHHHHHH Bill it’s FINE it’s probably just the stress of the new job and shit. I’m just going to see if the bug passes.”

“And what happens when that BUG is born?”

“BILL! We don’t know if that’s it or not. I’m sure it’s not. If it gets worse or doesn’t go away I’ll buy a test or something. Until then keep your mouth shut or I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to you.”

“I- fine. Only because it’s something you aren’t sure about.” He spoke as they pulled up to McDonald’s. They ordered and waited a bit before finally grabbing the order and heading back to the hotel.

“Alright here.” Prue starts handing out their orders. “So what are we doing the rest of the day? I personally think we should do karaoke.”

Gustav looked at Prue. “You? Willingly singing? This is a dream right?” Everyone nodded in agreement. Usually Prue refuses to sing. “I mean- karaoke is different then just randomly singing-“

“Ehhh- not really but sure.” Tom chuckled before they all started to eat.

“It is differenttttt” prue whined a bit before putting on some karaoke singalongs. She ended up being the first to sing. ‘I Love Rock n’ Roll’ By Joan Jett is what she opted to sing. She truly was in her own world singing the song.

They enjoyed the time, some of them did duets with each other. By the end they were all screaming ‘Footloose’ at the top of their lungs. Most definitely waking up their neighbors in the hotel.

“NONO THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKSSSS”

“WELL IT IS NOWWWW” The chaos only seemed to grow and they all ended up asleep on the floor. Their McDonald’s trash scattered around them. The night was fun, they definitely deserved every bit of fun they had today.

|| Author's Note: I’m working on chapters for the Photographer now. However I’m starting to take requests if there’s anything you’d like to see from the bunch. Specifically if you have any questions. I’ll be doing requests like one shots but they technically would probably still exist within this little world I’m building. Technically not part of the actual story though. ||

#romance #tom kaulitz #wattpad #tokio hotel #oc #for you #ask me anything

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estellamiraiauthor · 11 months

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So, can someone help me figure out what I did wrong here? (Or not… I think it’ll make me feel better just to vent even if no one interacts but feel free to comment if you see something I could’ve done differently.)

So I’ve been reaching out to a couple of artists lately about commissions. Most have been great, and I’ve got one commission underway already and am considering a couple of others. But this one artist like… rejected me as a client and I don’t know why.

As a bit of background, this artist was one who had done Phantom-related stuff before, and the VERY first question I asked was whether they would be okay with drawing characters from MY retelling. Personally, I don’t see all the different retellings and reimaginings as “competition” because I think people who are interested in one version are MORE likely, not less likely, to seek out others… but I knew it COULD be an issue and asked, and they said it was fine. So at that point, when they had a super easy out, they were apparently interested in potentially taking my commission.

So I provided my character info files, which admittedly have more information than anyone needs for any one artwork, because they’re master files that I use for ALL commissions. They include some visual references including past commissions, some written physical descriptions, and stuff that may not be important like age and place of birth and personality, which is there for reference, and if an individual artist doesn’t care about it they don’t need to read it.

I also provided a file with a description of the specific scene I wanted. I gave a short description of what I wanted drawn, and maybe a 1.5 page excerpt from my actual book. Again, this is for reference… it seemed to me that having what happened immediately before and after the specific moment I wanted drawn might help with the emotional aspects like facial expressions and body language? But again, it was there for reference; i figured too much information was better than not enough, and it was a page and a half, not an entire chapter or anything. It also had a very rough sketch of the pose and props I had in mind… I’m not good at drawing, but I’ve provided similar sketches to artists before and been told they were more helpful than nothing?

I told the artist to tell me if they needed anything more, and the response felt a little cold, but I know you can’t always tell how a person really feels about something via text, with no intonation or facial expression. They basically said: 1. There is more than one scene here, which do you want? (It was only one SCENE, in a writing sense, but I guess they probably meant more than one pose), 2. Give me a pose reference, tell me what they LOOK like not just what they’re saying, 3. Tell me exactly what they’re wearing.

So I went back to the file and highlighted the specific part (about a paragraph) I wanted drawn and added a more specific note that the rest of the scene was provided for context and reference. I deleted an image I’d provided as an example of the kind of “vibe” I wanted but that was NOT the exact same physical pose. I told the artist that my sketch had been intended as a pose reference, but that I would try to find a photograph or existing art instead. I was trying very hard to find something but had not found it yet. As for clothing, I’m actually not super picky and would be 100% fine with the artist just making something up based on the previous art and references in my character files but since they asked me to choose, i was planning on finding some clothing references. I hadn’t gotten to it yet because i was stuck on the pose.

In other words, the file wasn’t ready yet. I hadn’t found all of the additional resources they had asked for, so I HADNT CONTACTED THE ARTIST ASKING THEM TO CHECK THE FILE AGAIN. It’s a Google Doc so they absolutely COULD go back and see the changes in real time, but I assumed they either wouldn’t check the file at all or would assume it was still in progress until I told them I’d updated it.

But then I got a DM this morning that said they would have to charge me FOUR TIMES their typical price for two characters because it was “full illustration” rather than a portrait. Now, I was expecting it to maybe be a LITTLE more because I’d asked for a couple of props. And it was a request for a specific scene, not just two characters looking straight at the “camera”. But four times the price on their commission sheet felt a little like they were trying to discourage me from actually commissioning them.

Now, I used to do freelance editing. I know all about the asshole surcharge…. But I don’t think anything I’d done up to that point was assholey? Maybe I included too much written information and not enough visual information but I was actively working on fixing that, and I wasn’t finished looking for everything they’d requested, which I explained. I asked if the higher price covered things like creating a pose based on the written description or if they still wanted me to keep looking for a visual reference, and how long it would take to complete if I agreed to the price…

And they responded with “I don’t know if it’s a language or cultural thing about communication” and I… JUST DONT KNOW? Like, I told them I was located in Japan so they’d know what I meant when I said “tonight” or “tomorrow,” but… English is my first language. I lived in the US until I was 19. Did they mean THEMSELVES? That THEY had a language issue? Did they mean that quoting me four times the listed price was supposed to mean “hell no” and that I should’ve understood that? Or did they just assume that because I live in Japan there would be a “language issue”??? I just don’t know.

Because again, former freelancer here, and there are other ways to reject a client you just don’t like. “I’m sorry, but this just doesn’t look like a good match for my skills.” “Actually, I just got offered another major job that’s going to keep me occupied for the next few months.” Etc?

So at that point I basically said “You really seem like you don’t want to do this so I’m going to pass at this point.” And they replied with “As a client I’m going to pass” (which kind of makes me think maybe it WAS a language issue on their part??? It was just such a weird way to say it, and like I HAD JUST SAID NO. I had already ended the potential working relationship, they didn’t need to pass too?)

It just… feels like they took one look at my characters and specific scene request and from that point just really didn’t want to do it, and it’s really hard not to take that personally. I actually kind of HOPE I committed some horrible faux pas that I’m just not seeing but I HAVE NO IDEA.

#random thoughts #what did I do #rejection #rejection sensitivity sucks #I’m super grateful to the people who can and do put up with me #interpersonal relationship fail

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calendarcrawl · 1 year

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May 2019

The Britannia Inn, Cumbria

“How was your Calendar Crawl trip to the Lake District?”

A question so loaded that it’s taken me 5 days to formulate an answer. This month the calendar sent us on a 332 mile round trip to the Britannia Inn at Elterwater, due north of Lake Windermere. It’s the furthest north we’ve been sent on a Calendar Crawl so far and one I was looking forward to, being in such beautiful surrounds. And that’s one thing it certainly delivered, bloody lovely scenery in seasonable weather. It gave us high hopes… perhaps a little TOO high.

Due to football related activities, we postponed the drive up north until mid-afternoon meaning that we arrived late by our usual standards. We rocked up at the Britannia about ‪5pm‬, the beer garden was in full bloom with North Face twats and German tourists. But we would not be deterred, we were here for a good time and good beer – and with a wide selection of locally brewed ales – we were in with a good chance of getting it. However, the barman had other ideas. Despite us being stood right in front of him, he (unsuccessfully) attempted to ignore us in an effort to serve a busty blonde lady, who was clearly not finished looking at the menu. Now we’ve all been snubbed at the bar before, or unjustly beaten to the punch by a latecomer with an imposing bar presence. But never have I really experienced a barman trying to pretend I’m not there while trying to serve somebody who isn’t ready to be served. In the end, we didn’t give him a choice; “Four pints of something local please, you cunt” (or much politer words to that effect).

After getting our drinks, we moved outside to the beer garden to scope out our photo op. And in another first, we (for some reason) took the executive decision to not even bother posing for the photo and instead utilise the moderately busy beer garden to replicate our very own shit version of ‘Where’s Wally?’. So enjoy the five second search for us in the photo below.

Due to time restraints and drink driving laws, we had to move on from the Britannia and head to Hawkshead where we’d be staying for the night, in a pub called the Red Lion Inn. Now, if you like old fashioned digs where the sink is in your bedroom rather than your bathroom then this is the place for you. And if you like living dangerously and sleeping in rooms with no working locks on the door, then I can highly recommend Room 5. When we flagged up that our door wouldn’t lock and that you could basically push the door open with a finger, we were assured that “although we can’t do anything now, it’ll be fixed by the end of the night”. A reassurance delivered with such conviction, I forgot to believe it. Fortunately, there was a chair in the room which we wedged against the door, effectively keeping us rape-proof for the night.

Red Lion aside though, Hawkshead was mostly fun for most of us. The bonus of 4 pubs within pissing distance of each other in the village square meant we could flit between boozers and maraud the taps at our leisure. The Queen’s Head was a highlight for beer and whisky, and the King’s Arms was a highlight for the Cumberland Sausage and Mash and its very lax closing time. To Hawkshead’s credit, the other three pubs ensured we were pissed enough to face the prospect of returning to the Red Lion.

The next morning, we were woken up by the horrendous wailing of a fire alarm (probably a kitchen fire). We lay there pondering just how long you leave it before you get out of bed and into the hallway to shrug at everybody else who has done the same. We also considered that maybe it wasn’t enough that we’d just had a wretched stay here, but that we’d also have to die in this hell-hole. Fortunately, the alarm ceased after a few minutes. We all agreed to get changed and get the fuck out before facing the prospect of being poisoned at breakfast. A choice that felt immediately vindicating as we walked past the kitchen and heard a bantering chef shout “He’s about as much a chef as I am a black man!”. Yep, let’s go.

On the way out, we got collared by a member of staff who was setting up for breakfast; she seemed disappointed that we weren’t staying for food. She even offered to give us bacon baps for the road, but at this point the line between ‘just being friendly’ and ‘eager to poison us’ was dangerously blurred. We flatly declined and decided to put as much daylight between us and Hawkshead as possible.

So yeah, “how was your Calendar Crawl trip to the Lake District?”… No, I’m still not sure.

* * *

In June, the Calendar has tasked us with a not-too-heavy trip to the Marches – we’ll be stopping over in Ross-on-Wye, which we’re hoping, at the very least will have accommodation with working locks.

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gloryintheflowers · 2 years

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dearest aunt barb,

i can’t believe I’m writing this. it feels surreal. everything has felt surreal, disorienting, since the moment three weeks ago when Evie told me “bubbie died this morning.” It made me dizzy. It made me sick. I couldn’t breathe then and I could swear I haven’t been able to take a full breath since. my world has shifted on its axis and everything feels wrong and I know it’ll never be right again.

You were just here. You were just on the other end of the phone. You were just answering in that way you always did, that “h’yello!” that was so *you*. You were just telling me about your day. You were just saying that you were proud of how far I’ve come, and screw anyone who isn’t. You were just telling me you loved me. You were just here. And now you’re not. And my brain is having a hard time reconciling those two things. I am still half convinced that you’re just away and that you’re going to call me when you get home. It seems impossible, even laughable, that you aren’t. You are a giant in my life. You are the brightest star. How can you be gone? It defies everything I know and feel to be true. You are still here. You are everywhere to me.

I’ve been numb since the funeral. I know I’ve been pushing everything down, repressing it. You’re always in my mind, but most of the time I don’t let myself really think about you— pushing the memories to the back of my mind, physically shaking my head so as to dispel them. I feel so guilty but if I let myself think of you that often, I’d probably go completely insane. So I feel that now-familiar stab of pain in my chest for just a moment, and then I push it away. I don’t forget— how could I? Even as I deny it with my entire heart, my whole body trembles with grief. I feel it in my lungs, in the way it restricts my breath, in the way my shoulders sit up near my ears, in the way every muscle in my body is taut as the string of a guitar, so often curled up in the fetal position as if to try and comfort me, protect me. I feel it in the churning of my stomach, the way it lurches when I open my phone to see the lock screen Alexa made me. It’s every photo I have of us except for one. Nine photos. Nine pieces of proof that we existed at the same time, that you sat with me, posed for a photo, both of us beaming with affection. It hurts to look at it but I can’t change it, either. Nine photos and that’s all I’ll have forever. When I see your face, it feels like I’ve just missed a step going downstairs. My stomach drops and I taste bile in my throat. I miss you, I long for you, I ache for you— in a quiet, desperate, lonely way. It’s like a sickness I already know there is no cure for— not distraction, not therapy, not medication, not even time, although I’m sure people will continue to suggest all of those things. I mean, I’m sure therapy will be beneficial. Lisa has known me almost as long as I’ve known you, and she knows all about you and the history and nuances of our relationship and what it’s meant for me. She understands the enormity of this loss. I’m sure that it’ll help to keep talking to her. And yeah, right now distracting myself does help, but it feels more like avoidance— avoiding thinking of you because I’m scared of how much it hurts. And I feel guilty because you deserve better than that. You deserve my tears, my pain, my grief, my howling, wailing, scream-crying into my pillows. But I can’t let myself feel it all right now. I just can’t. It terrifies me. I know you’d understand. I know you’d forgive me. And time? Maybe one day I’ll believe that, that time heals all wounds. But right now it’s getting worse, and not better. I can see the rest of my life stretching out before me; long, painful, entirely void of you. I don’t especially want it, to be honest with you. Maybe it’s insensitive to tell a dead person that you don’t want to live. I don’t know. But I’m also writing a dead person a letter. So maybe worrying about being insensitive is not my biggest problem at the moment. (I can imagine myself saying all of this out loud to you, and your reaction: you’re sitting in your recliner, eyebrows raised, shaking your head and reluctantly giving in to a smile as you say, ruefully, your voice rich and full of something between amusement and concern— “honey, you’re not well!”)

Anyway. It’s not that I’m entirely counting out the idea of ever feeling joy again. There’s a certain brand of joy that only you have ever been able to bring out in me and that is one of the many things I’m mourning right now, because that spark went out the moment I found out you were gone and I know it’s not a flame that can ever be lit again. You made me feel so many good things that were and so foreign to me. A kind of love I’d never experienced before and now may never experience again. Your love made me feel like the sun was shining just for me. Do you remember the second time I came to visit, over my holiday break in 2014? Do you remember New Years Day? Eventually I’ll write more about that, once I can do so without going insane with grief— but still, I know you remember. We talked about it. I brought it up in my poetry even years later. It meant everything to me. I stayed with my grandparents for much of that trip but really I was visiting you. And we were eating breakfast one morning when you started asking me questions about the kind of love and affection and encouragement and support I had received at home, past and present. It was like you were trying to solve a puzzle, and I saw the moment when it clicked for you. You told me that you’d often wondered what had been missing from my life before you came into it— what gap you were filling, what empty hole in my heart had prompted me to reach out to you in the first place. I told you, truthfully, that I didn’t know— but honestly, it seemed like maybe you did. You turned to me where I was rinsing my dishes in the sink and cupped my face in your hands, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter,” you said, “I’m here now.”

And you pulled me into a hug, kissed my forehead, and pretended not to notice my tears or my trembling, borne out of utter love and happiness and something else— confusion, maybe, and the feeling that you get when you realize what you’ve been missing all your life, and the utter terror that comes with knowing how fragile it all really is.

I can’t imagine anything else ever bringing me that kind of joy. It was some kind of magic, what you did for me. You made every colour brighter. You made the impossible look possible; you willed me to live when every cell in my body wanted to die. You made me feel loved and whole and safe. This world feels so much darker and dimmer without you in it. Right now I feel like I’m in hell, like I’ll never be happy again. But I guess anything is possible. You loved this world, kept coming back to it with your arms and heart open— heart broken— so who am I to discount it? But even you said that time doesn’t make it better. You said that grief still hurts as much a decade after the loss— it just hurts differently, and you build a beautiful life around it, and you get through it with the people who love you and love them. But I’m alone here. And I don’t want to build a life right now. I’m so tired.

Right now it’s 6am and I can’t sleep. This is nothing new— how many times have I sent you a text between 4am and 7am because my insomnia was keeping me up and I was tired and my thoughts were racing and you were the only person I know who would be awake? Too many times to count, probably. You always held space for me. You were giving me room to express what I was feeling, you were giving me space to process it all, you were helping me hold my burdens and my baggage. It meant everything and I can’t remember if I ever thanked you for that specifically. I hope you knew.

I guess I should try to explain why I’m writing this, although I imagine you know. You’ve always known me better than I knew myself.

You being gone forever…it doesn’t feel real yet. It doesn’t even really feel possible. I’m afraid of when it eventually hits me. For now I’m coping by mostly pretending, and talking to you sometimes. I’ll look at your photo and pray that you’re listening but every time it ends in tears. Over the years I’ve often sent you long, rambling emails, sometimes with poems attached, just word-vomiting and working through my thoughts on the page, asking questions and looking for your opinion. You read them faithfully, sometimes emailing me back or else waiting until we spoke the next day, sharing your thoughts and asking me questions and sometimes cracking a joke or two about the sheer length of my writings. But you never judged. You held space for everything I was feeling and let me bounce it all off of you.

I know you’re not going to be able to read this. I know that you’ll never be able to read anything I write ever again, and you’ll never hold that space for me again, or offer your encouragement or opinion or advice, always starting by saying “may I make a suggestion?” I smiled every time you said that. Who would ever say no to you?

I keep talking to you out loud, and I’ll continue doing that, but I need to go back to the basics. I need somewhere to process all of this grief, all of this love and pain and loneliness and remembrance. Even the things that I don’t want to feel, like my anger— at myself and at the hospital and at a God I haven’t believed in for a long time and at everyone around me and even at you. The resentment, the shame, the way I feel lost and unmoored. I need a place to put all of the memories, even difficult ones— I am so terrified of forgetting any of it. A place to put those nine precious photos we have together. Ten years of talking to you almost every day and I’m already scared of forgetting the sound of your voice. It’s such a part of me— all of it is. You are. And now there is a deep hollow in my chest, like someone reached into my throat and tore out half my heart. It’s not just you I’ve lost, because you hold such a sacred space in my heart. I’ve lost a part of myself, a part of my identity, experiences I didn’t know I’d never have again, and so much more. It’s more than I can comprehend all at once. It’s the most tremendous loss and I can’t believe it yet. I just can’t.

As for the name of this blog— do you remember the poem I read to you the first time I visited you? The Wordsworth one— Splendour in the Grass? You thought it was beautiful, and I shared it with you several more times. It was my favourite at the time— it’s still one of my favourites. It’s technically about longing for the halcyon days of youth, but finding comfort and happiness in other ways as we age. And you aged so gracefully, my love. You never once complained. Still, poetry is so subjective, and for obvious reasons this poem has come to mean something different for me recently. It goes like this:

What though the radiance

which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind…

— William Wordsworth

I will grieve. I will probably grieve forever. But I will also remember all of it— the splendour in the grass; the glory in the flower— and find strength in all that remains behind. And I guess that’s another thing I’m hoping to do here— to figure out exactly what it is that you’ve left behind, to find strength in your memory, and to learn about who I am without you.

Please stay close to me. I don’t know how to do any of this without you.

All my love, forever.

Emily xoxo

#grief #grieving #sudden loss #loss #death tw #grief tw #love #letter

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wazzupmrstark · 3 years

Text

instead of you [part seventeen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol +sex

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

The flight from Naples to Tokyo took fourteen hours, not including the two and a half hour layover in Istanbul, meaning you had sixteen and a half hours to sit in awkward tension-filled silence next to Sam. The tension was one-sided, of course, but it was still agonizing to endure.

You had been able to push your anxiety aside during your last day in Italy because it had been so busy. There had been a power outage in the middle of the night, causing everyone to oversleep and miss the ferry for one of your tours that morning. It had been a scramble to get back on schedule and do as much as possible with the time you had left. The boys had been hungover and their parents were tired of wrangling them. You had dozens of photos on your camera roll of Sam and Harry bickering when they were supposed to be posing for a nice picture, and even more of Tom flicking them off.

But now you were stuck alone with your thoughts, unable to use distraction as a means to escape. You tried reading your book, but found yourself unable to concentrate on the words on the page. After staring at the same paragraph for over fifteen minutes Sam noticed and asked if you were okay and you finally decided to call it quits.

You almost wished the Hollands hadn’t scheduled in a day and a half to adjust to the time zone change. You’d rather exhaust yourself with the nonstop tourist bullshit than have to cope with the reality that you had gotten off to thoughts about your best friend’s brother. Not to mention living with the secret that the same best friend’s brother had kissed you not long before that.

If Sam noticed anything was off, he didn’t mention it. He probably chalked it up to lack of sleep, or perhaps was too tired himself to care.

“Which one of us do you think will be randomly selected in customs today?” Harry asked, stretching his arms above his head.

You were standing in the aisle waiting to deplane, placing bets on who’d get searched by border agents this time. Somehow each time you traveled to a new place one of you was always chosen to get pat down or have your carry-on searched. Tom had yet to be the lucky winner, and you suspected it had something to do with his celebrity status.

“Y/n,” Tom answered easily. “She has the U.S. passport.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like England has a squeaky clean record with Japan.”

“At least we didn’t-”

“Bro, you can’t say the b word on a plane,” Harry interrupted.

“Even when the plane’s on the ground?”

Sam shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” Tom continued. “It’s definitely going to be y/n.”

“Would you mind stepping out of line, ma’am?”

You sighed, not even bothering to look back at the boys. You already knew they were grinning like idiots and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The agent ushered you to the side behind a glass partition, but not before you heard another agent repeat the same question to one of the Hollands. You smiled to yourself, happy not to be the only one singled out.

Behind the privacy screen another agent greeted you and asked you to take your sweatshirt off, explaining that it was too baggy and needed to be checked. You saw other people in baggy clothes who weren’t getting pulled out of line, but assumed they didn’t have the red flag of “U.S. Citizen” printed on their identification that would be cause for any additional suspicion. You complied with the agent’s request and pulled your sweatshirt off for them to further inspect.

You were glad you’d worn a sports bra underneath your sweatshirt because you usually didn’t wear anything underneath them. As soon as your head was out of the pullover you immediately met by Tom’s polite smile.

He averted his eyes as soon as he saw you, pausing his conversation with the official to mumble a quiet ‘sorry’ to you as he was shown to the spot next to yours.

You zoned out as they spoke, only aware of him again when he started unbuckling his belt. You caught his eye this time.

“Forgot to take it off,” he explained.

“Sweatshirt’s too loose.”

You both faced forward as the customs officials proceeded through the motions. You were stuck standing there half-naked with your arms wrapped around your chest self-consciously while an agent pat Tom’s legs down.

“Dad said we can meet them at baggage claim,” Tom said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. “They went on without us.”

“Okay,” you squeaked back in response.

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but it still made you nervous to be alone with Tom. Sam was like a safety blanket, or a buffer between you and him and without him you were afraid it would be painfully awkward.

The woman handed you your sweatshirt back and you had to wait for Tom outside of the screening area. He joined you a minute or so later.

“They find any dirt on you?” you asked from where you were leaning against the wall across from the exit.

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually I’m in custody right now. Can’t believe you missed the handcuffs.”

“Man, what’d they get you for?”

“Identity theft,” you sighed.

“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Tom replied, false sympathy rolling off his words.

He cocked his head in the direction the rest of his family had went, indicating that you should get going, and held out a hand to pull you upright. You took it hesitantly and let him help you.

“I was actually hoping you could bail me out?” you went on, continuing with the bit.

Tom made a sound through his teeth and grimaced. “I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Aren’t you an actor?”

“Sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, you’re definitely the guy!”

“You’re thinking of Tom Hiddleston,” he insisted.

“Remember that IOU you gave me? I’m cashing it in now.”

“That’s not how it works!”

You laughed. “No, but if I ever actually get arrested I’m using my IOU to get you to bail me out of jail.”

“I don’t think that a kiss and getting bailed out of prison are comparable, but I didn’t put any conditions on that postcard, did I?”

“Nope!” You smiled happily.

“Well that’s on me, so...”

You took the shuttle together to the other side of the airport where the rest of the Hollands were waiting and finally found them with all of your luggage at the furthest carousel from the entrance.

“It’s about time!” Harry yelled over the crowd as soon as he saw you.

Sam grinned when he saw you and you couldn’t help but grin back. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively and you relaxed into his shoulder, relieved to be with him again. It hadn’t dawned on you until that moment just how attached you were, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the other Hollands were all looking at you expectantly.

“Did everything go okay?” Nikki asked.

Tom nodded. “They made y/n strip, but it was uneventful otherwise.”

You pursed your lips, cheeks burning. “It was just my sweatshirt!” you hissed to Sam.

“Yeah, but you never wear anything under your sweatshirts!” Sam hissed back.

“I had a bra on this time.”

“Oh, so it was just another night at the bar for you?” You wrestled yourself out of Sam’s grasp at that and glared. “Am I wrong?”

Sam’s dad cut in before you could respond. He had a habit of calling “family meetings” in the middle of public spaces to finalize plans and get everybody on the same page, which was always an experience.

“Alright, gather up, gang!” he said, beckoning you all closer. “So we’ll be staying at... this hotel,” he explained and turned his phone around to show you the name of it. “And the thing is, we have two rooms to share between the six of us. One for your mother and I, and another for you four.”

“What?” Sam asked. “You’re going to make us stay with them?”

“I thought we were getting three rooms like every other time,” Tom chimed in.

“We were meant to, but I made a mistake when booking it,” Dom clarified.

“How?”

“The entire website was in Japanese, Sam. I don’t know Japanese!”

“Dad, Google has a translate webpage option!” Harry groaned.

“Well no one told me that while I was booking this entire trip by myself!”

You traded a look with Tom, who looked just as panicked as you felt. But it would only be for a week. You would find a way to manage. You didn’t really have any other option.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Sam tried, forcing a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” Dom cheered. “We’ll make it work.”

sorry she’s short this week :( but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamerr @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland @hi-yekaterina @rinaaa334 @elishi03 @abcxrandomx @hiraethenthusiast @marajillana

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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esamastation · 3 years

Text

Breath of the Wild snippet

Link is bored. It's a little startling how easy it's to see – how easy he's to read these days. Where before, hundred years ago, he'd been as unreadable as a brick wall, a look of serious determination as though permanently etched to his face, now he's an open book, covers flung wide. The serious frown still makes an appearance, of course, it's his default expression, Link's face simply rests in a way that makes him seem as though he's almost scowling, but now, should an emotion cross his mind… he does nothing to hide it.

Like now, as his attention strays and his eyes wander and every so often he smothers a sigh or a yawn or a longing look directed at the door. It's in part painfully and in part endearingly clear how little attention he's paying to their meeting, and how much he wishes he could be elsewhere.

Zelda smothers a smile and then realises she's allowed herself to be distracted, and quickly turns her attention back to the meeting taking place in Impa's house.

"... a little difficult to test," Purah is saying. She's sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, her seat cushion abandoned and papers flung about her – most of them about her anti-aging rune. "I can't even promise the test subject will survive the process, never mind that it will work even fifty percent of the time... so finding people to volunteer has been an issue."

"What, no old folks interested in regaining their misspent youth?" Robbie asks with a slight snort, adjusting his goggles. "I'd happily test it, if my work wasn't too important to risk!"

Purah gives him a look. "Well, duh. Most folk are the same," she says and shakes her head. "And besides, the population and age statistics don't exactly trend towards the elderly these days. The average life expectancy of both Hylians and Sheikah both trend about forty years younger than it used to be pre-Calamity. And the only way for people to reliably grow old these days –"

"Is to have a family or other support network, helping them," Impa muses, rubbing at her chin. "Which means they have things too dear to lose, for an uncertain chance."

"Just so," Purah says and folds her little arms, adorable in her seriousness. "I did post queries around Hateno village, of course, but I only had a couple of takers, and they all turned tail when I explained the risks. And we can't improve the chances without further testing. And we can't do further testing without candidates. And we're not likely to get more candidates with the chances being what they are - it's a vicious circle."

By the door, Link looks ready to nod off.

Zelda hums, looking at the papers Purah had brought, conflicted. It's incredible work, just as a concept, and Purah hadn't just left it at theory – and the results certainly speak for themselves! Purah is now, what, hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty years old? And she looks as though she is a girl of six, with all that time ahead of her and not behind. If the technology could be made reliable, it would no doubt change the future in ways Zelda can scarcely imagine… for the better, she hopes, for all the people of Hyrule.

But right now, she has more selfish reasons to make enquiries into the rune.

Zelda looks at Impa, sitting on top of a pile of pillows, her weathered, aged face thoughtful. Their eyes meet and Zelda steels her resolve. "Might there be any potential candidates in Kakariko village, Impa?" she asks.

"Hmm. I doubt it. Young Zain, maybe?" Impa muses. "Well, he's not so young. He's in his seventies, he has bad knees and no surviving relatives to support or be supported by. Bit of a sour grape, that one, though. Sceptic. Hard to convince."

"I'm sure if the Lost Princess and the Hero who stopped Ganon ask for it, anyone would be happy to give it a go!" Robbie says, slapping his folded knees. "Especially if they learn what it's all for!"

Zelda smiles, wincing, and looks down. Using her standing for such a thing… sure she'd done things of that nature before, pleading people to join their cause, ages ago… but never with the risks so high, and potential results so uncertain. She'd never liked asking people to risk their lives, for her or otherwise. Even with a cause so important...

"It would be a somewhat awkward thing to ask, though," she muses and looks down. "It is an awkward thing to ask. I'm… I'm sorry to have to ask it of you."

After all this time, all these years, all the service they'd already put in, to ask for so much more of them… but she had to. No one woman could rebuild a kingdom by herself. She needed help, she needed allies – she needed Impa and Robbie and Purah. With such a foundation, Hyrule might yet rise, better than ever, but for that to ever happen… Impa and Robbie needed to go through what Purah already had, and extend their already prodigiously long lives even further. They all deserved their quiet retirement, after all the effort they'd put in, but for Hyrule, Zelda would make this cruel request.

"Ha!" Robbie says, striking a pose. "Like I wouldn't do this without being asked! As soon as Purah can improve the odds – no, as soon as we can improve the odds –"

"What's that, you old coot, what do you mean by we?" Purah depends, bouncing to her feet. "If you think I will let you ever into my lab, mister, you're sorely mistaken –!"

"If we work together, combine the efforts of Akkala and Hateno tech labs, we're sure to succeed! With Cherry's incredible computing power and your Stone –"

"Your creepy ancient furnace is getting nowhere near my Guidance Stone!"

Link startles awake at the noise they're making and Zelda smothers a giggle while Impa sighs.

"I will ask Paya to check in on Zain, maybe he will be interested," Impa says and shakes her head. "But it's still a small test study, with only two subjects. I'm sorry, Zelda – as much as I wish to do this, I am with Robbie on this. The chances are too low and I have too much to lose, right now. Paya is nowhere near ready to take over for me here. There needs to be more candidate's, first, and I don't know where we can get them. But," she hums and looks away. "There might be someone who does."

Link yawns and then freezes, finding all of them staring at him. Then, clearly baffled, he points at himself quizzically, and Zelda offers him a smile.

Impa chuckles. "You've been all over Hyrule now, Link – you've traveled farther than probably anyone has in a hundred years. Better than anyone, you know the state of her people. Do you think there is anyone out there who might be interested in Purah's study – in regaining their youth, even at a risk?"

Link scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully and then takes out the Sheikah Slate, opening the map with an easy, well practiced wipe of his fingers over the screen. Zelda leans in, once more amazed – and a little jealous – of how far he'd gotten with it, how full of markers the map is. Hundred years ago, she'd estimated that there might be as many as a dozen sites of ancient Sheikah technology all over Hyrule. Link had discovered over a hundred. They now glow on his map, like glittering blue gems, the Towers and Shrines he'd seen and mastered.

Link zooms in on the map and then puts down three other markers. One in Zora's domain, one in Gerudo Town and last in Lurelin Village. Turning the slate around, he shows the map to everyone.

"Of course," Zelda breathes in realisation. "The Guardians never reached so far, so their populations were never so scattered or scarred. In Zora's domain, in Gerudo Town and in Lurelin, people can grow old peacefully, without fear of attack."

Link makes a face and a wobbling gesture with his hand and then shrugs. Zelda smiles, sadly. "Aside from monsters and other disasters and misfortunes, of course," she agrees. "But without fear of attacks by Guardians, they were allowed to prosper."

"Not the Rito, though?" Robbie asks, his goggles whirting and shifting like the eyes of a gecko as he looks between the map, Link and Zelda. "Or the Gorons?"

Link shrugs, rubbing at his neck.

"Gorons age like rocks, Daruk always said," Zelda muses. "And I suppose with Rito it can be difficult to tell their ages. If we send out invitations to the study, we should include them as well – assuming that the treatment by the rune isn't Sheikah exclusive…?"

Purah rocks back and forth on her feet thoughtfully, almost as though she's about to dance. "I… don't know? I calibrated the first version based on my own physiology, so it might be best to stick to Sheikah and Hylians for a start – but I can't see why it couldn't be adjusted. Gerudo are closer in structure to us than Rito and Gorons, or Zora for that matter. Might be best we start there, when we begin making modifications to include everyone."

"So, begin with Lurelin," Robbie says and nods. "How do we do that?"

"We'll make some posters and Link can zip in and out of Lurelin Village to post them," Purah says and strikes a pose. "It's just a snap for the Sheikah Slate."

Impa hums in agreement. "Best we make advertisements for Kakariko and Hateno as well, and perhaps some of the stables," she muses. "You never know who might take us up on it, and getting this technology to work at hundred percent will be a benefit to everyone."

"You're right," Zelda agrees, nodding. "Purah and Robbie, I suppose you two know best what should go on the poster. Can you make it?"

"It'll work much better, with your name under it," Robbie points out.

"We'll write a draft and you can copy it and put your royal touch and seal to it," Purah says and does an excited little dance. "This is so exciting! We'll get so many applicants and my little Guidance Stone will get to do it's thing!"

Zelda offers her a smile, all the while wondering, not for the first time… how much of a royal she even is, at this point. With the castle in ruins and the Kingdom in shambles, with no one to rule it for a hundred years… all that Zelda is now... is a story. The Princess that went to fight Calamity Ganon as the Kingdom fell asunder all around her. Not many even believe it. That might change with this meeting and the following cooperation, especially when they'd begin reaching out further, but right now…

Princess of nothing indeed.

"So much was lost," Zelda murmurs, carefully resting her hands in her lap to keep herself from wringing them. She shouldn't concentrate on the losses. Not when there's so much to do. "It will be good to build something for a change. To improve things."

"Indeed," Impa says, nodding her head, her heavy hat tilting. "But if Calamity Ganon taught us anything, it is that we should take all due caution."

"Yes. And speaking of which," Zelda says and lifts her eyes to Robbie. "Your research in Akkala – I would very much like to hear more about it. Link showed me the armour and weaponry you made, they're very impressive – how did you manage it?"

Robbie all but launches himself into the story of Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, the research he'd done there, the progress he'd made, enthusiastically recounting the creation of his Ancient Furnace, Cherry. Zelda leans in, allowing herself to be drawn in, and by the door Link settles down with a sigh and begins nodding off again.

Hmm hmm. Took me 3 years, but I finally finished botw.

I might continue this one and it might end up a Stargate crossover. Who knows.

#fanfiction #botw #loz #breath of the wild #legend of zelda breath of the wild #spoilers

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max thank you Mea!

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane.

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid.

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after.

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking.

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him, outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb.

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?"

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding.

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides.

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you.

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting.

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes, they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning.

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #f1 #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf

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halcyon-writings · 3 years

Note

this isn’t a request but more like a concept but just the idea of childe whaling for your banner is very funny

— i love how this was meant to be just a small snippet but now i have written more for it

good luck to whoever is pulling for childe in his banner rerun!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

so let’s set the scene, Childe’s definitely a popular streamer for 2 reasons

He’s pretty and he knows it, his viewers know it, everyone does

He spends so much money on this game it’s not even funny. And people are either jealous of all the gear he’s gotten or just in plain awe of it all

this mf probably has fancams made of him every stream, so he purposefully poses, a popular pose is the lip bite

he usually doesn’t get so hyped over a lot of characters, except for maybe the geo archon, but that all changes when your character trailer drops. like, literally everyone can tell the difference. and it’s really funny and also just scary bc everyone knows this man spends too much on this game and they’re just guessing how much he’ll spend.

as soon as he’s able he starts the grind for everything.

from talent materials, ascension materials, artifacts, even to your weapon’s ascension materials. man is on a mission to make you the strongest character he has.

even if you’re some form of a support/healer, guess what; you’re now a dps. and you’re gonna be a damn good one if childe’s got anything to say about it. he’s a very unorthodox player, he would build barbara as a dps if he could.

“Man is dedicated,” One comment reads on his stream.

Childe looks up at the camera with a grin, “You bet I am.”

The particularly clip is a popular one with all the fancams for weeks.

He will also preemptively buy whatever the summoning materials are, and a lot of them. It’s at this point where he now is getting many questions as to where his money comes from. sure he gets a good amount from streams, but where tf is he getting the rest. but no one gets an answer. it’s better that way.

literally when you’re banner drops, everyone is waiting with bated breathes for his steam. and when he does, he’s got a whole audience.

first it’s a bit of normal playing to catch up with the viewers, and then he does a few single pulls. a four star but then mostly threes. he does a multi.

a gold light.

the chat is going wild.

it’s a different 5* from the pool. That means you’re guaranteed for him right?

wrong

he pulls again, 3 stars.

again, a 4 star weapon. again, all 3 star weapons. again, a 4 star character.

but no gold.

“We are not losing hope yet folks,” He says, a day later, “____’s coming home, I just know it.”

But the same happens again. Only 3-4 stars.

and again.

Man is spending so much that he could at this point be the main reason why you’re banner is at one of the top spots of who’s spending the most on which banner. It’s all him.

But imagine you’re banner is the shorter runs, so now he’s getting desperate. He does every little ritual he can think of. From sacrificing characters to waiting until a certain time. But nothing.

And then it’s the last day. If it were possible every single character that he could get has arrived. But not you.

“Folks if it’s not meant to be i’m quitting.” And he does one last single pull for the hell of it. He won’t actually quit but still. It’ll hurt a lot. And the feelsbadman emotes he’s getting only add salt to the wound.

Gold.

He’s awed.

And then your splash art appears.

The comments are going wild and Childe is just sitting back, head in hands like “finally.”

He gets you all the artifacts he set aside for you, your weapon. By the time the stream is over you’re at full ascension. And with really good stats.

“We’ve had a miracle on this day.” Childe says. You can see the joy in his eyes.

And literally the rest of the video is him just listening to the voice lines he’s got so far, doing different domains and whatever he can to get your friendship higher. Man’s has you as his icon, a quote from your voice lines as his signature, the whole shebang.

Makes his twitter bio “Whaled for _____. Worth it.” and it does not change.

#small warning for gambling pls spend any money wisely yall and only do so if you’re financially comfortable to do so!!#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #childe x reader #childe imagines #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia imagines #mine #concept.#help this was supposed to be short hdkdhdjd

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jesslockwood · 3 years

Text

Photo Opportunities

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing(s): Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF with a slightly (barely) suggestive sentence towards the end

A/n: damn I can't write anything except actress reader? smh but this is for @londonspidey ‘s sit-com Writing challenge (ik I'm early lol) but I was so excited I wrote the whole thing in one go lmao the prompt is bolded!

Calling yourself a fan was an understatement. You were obsessed with anything and everything marvel. And oddly enough, you could after today say you were in the club. It wasn’t a public fact yet, until later that day actually, at the Marvel panel at comic con that you were being announced as the actress for the character, Felica Hardy and no one else knew except for the people who cast you and your best friend who signed an NDA. You were technically still a known actress for your roles on television mainly as Thalia on the PJO Disney + series and a couple of still decently sized films.

You were currently wrapping up signing autographs for fans of yours for today. Your team had planned it out so it wasn’t suspicious that you were at the con with a few of your castmates scattered doing other junkets and press so people wouldn’t guess who they were acting as the cast for new marvel projects.

You had been planning to go meet your best friend, who wasn’t in the industry before getting a text that she bought you both a photo-op with someone and she wouldn’t tell you who. You couldn’t only assume it was a marvel actor that you would indeed, freak out.

Y/b/n: btw I brought you a mask. I get the wig lol.

You: please tell me it doesn’t cover my full face. Also, how are we posing?

Y/b/n: I bought as many photo ops as I could so a lot of different ones, And if I tell you the poses it’ll spoil it.

You: is this with the money I pay you to be my assistant with? Lol fine I’m omw with security

Y/b/n: maybe…

Y/b/n: and they’ll need more backup security for who we’re getting a photo op with than you do for your hellfire.

You roll your eyes before taking your stuff and exiting the booth, before heading out the backways with staff security and your detailed security for the day. You only had security because you wanted to explore the con when you weren’t needed.

Your best friend had also been your assistant for the con weekend, but you didn’t want her to be confined to you the whole three days so when she could, you would let her explore it, at least she could experience it as a fan, right?

When you made it to that part of the building, you wanted to wait in line with her, which your security didn’t agree to so she texted you when there were about five people ahead of her. She was one of the last in line, with you asking her to be kind, so others would get their chance to be first with whomever it was.

When she texted you and your detailed exit, getting a few stares and others taking their phones out to either take photos or tweet, you wave at them before joining your best friend in line.

“Here,” she says before handing you none other than a black cat mask before she puts on a red wig.

You glare at her slightly trying to not make a scene, before putting it on.

“I’m assuming you're Mary Jane?” you laugh figuring out that it had to be someone from Spider-Man.

“How’d you- never mind.” She laughs with you.

She then explains how she’s going to pose for your five photo ops, joking in between how she should “get a raise for this”.

You catch sight of him before sucking in your breath. This was either going to go down amazingly or terribly, there was no in-between with you.

“Excuse Me, are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

You turn around and are met by some fans who were standing in line behind you.

“I am! How’s your con going?” you ask politely to the two of them.

“It's going amazing! We love you as Thalia! Could we maybe get a picture? Only if it’s okay?”

“Of course! Thank you for supporting me!” your best friend grabs their phone to take the photo, before you take off the mask, and stand between the two fans, and your best friend snaps a few photos.

“Thank you so much! And Are you fans of Tom?”

You start slowly walking back to catch up to the line.

“Yeah, I love him as Spiderman, but I also enjoy his other roles. He's very talented, I'd love to work with him one day!”

“Have you seen him in Uncharted? We love Him as Nathan drake!”

“I have, he was amazing per usual! How are you two posing with him?”

They show you their innovative pose. You laugh and tell them it's great before you have to wish them goodbye before heading up for your turn for the photo op.

“How do we want to pose- hang on, I recognize you!”

You freeze slightly before your friend mouths for you to flirt. You look down at the mask in your hand before getting into character and saying “Of course you do Spidey, I'm always causing you trouble.” you put on the mask and wink.

He seems slightly stunned, laughing, feeling like he’s seen you somewhere, not only because he found you extremely gorgeous, while in his peripheral vision he sees his brother/ assistant, Harry waving like a madman on the side.

Your friend directs you both through the poses, first, one both him putting “webs” onto you as she looks over his shoulder, the second one, both of you kissing his cheeks, the third, all jumping in the air in your best superhero poses, the fourth one she gets a photo op alone and the last one she gives to you,

“Seriously, who are you?”

“Your Wildest dreams, baby,” you say, taking off the mask.

Your best friend yells “freestyle” from the sidelines before Tom dips you, gently, with you shocked, holding the mask out with your free arm and the photo captures that moment.

He gently helps you stand back up fully, not before you drop the mask.

“Nice moves Spider-Man.”

“Not so bad yourself, Black Cat.”

You laugh before, taking off with your best friend, well more her dragging you to the printing station leaving the mask behind. Tom picks it up before shoving it in his back pocket to hopefully give back if he could find you.

`You were sitting in the green room, trending on Twitter before you were actually supposed to be trending on Twitter, and god knows where else.

Someone had snuck a video of you and Tom, up till him dipping you, and a video of you interacting with the fans in the line.

Your Y/b/n was currently reading off some tweets out loud

“‘A kind queen we stan.’ I agree, I also agree with ‘Date her if you can't date me tom!!!’.

‘THALIA AND PETER PARKER??? My two fandoms have collided.’ same, same. Oo this one says, ‘if she ain’t playing black cat I will sue marvel.’ I'm dying at the reply ‘She needs to post the photos or I'll sue her!’. This one’s funny, ‘she could squash him like a bug in heels but he liked his queen like that.’.”

She pauses watching you texting.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“What? Sorry I was only half listening. I was texting my publicist. She said to stay on the DL until tonight.

“Well we should get food, you haven't eaten since this morning.”

“By the way, your show has shot to number one on Disney +. Also, you have like three times the followers you had before, probably cause you're trending on every platform, even Tumblr!”

“Wow you should just become my social media manager now.” you joke trying to ease the joy yet weirded out feeling in your stomach.

“Does that come with a raise? Because after today I've spent way too much of what I'm paid.” she jokes back.

After finishing his photo ops Tom asked Harry who she was and to find out. By the time he finished autographs for the day, Tom and Harry walked to the panel room in the back for announcements, one that included him for the new Avengers movie, while Harry gave him the rundown.

“So she’s an actress, she plays Thalia on Disney plus’ Percy Jackson series, and that's her most known project. The other girl with her is her assistant best friend, and now she's trending everywhere. People dug up some old photos of her being a marvel/Spider-Man fan, so there's that. And she's here at the con for the rest of the weekend. She's doing photo ops tomorrow at one, and yes she's single from what I gather since you were looking at her like this.” he makes a weird face before tom smacks him.

“And plus you have time in your schedule to get a photo op with her, that is if you eat lunch quickly.”

That gave Tom an idea.

“Harry I’m going to need you to book me one, oh and help me find a Spider-Man costume!” He says, before leaving harry to do ‘assistant’ work. entering the green room for the announcements, watching them announce a new movie.

“We are so excited to announce to the Marvel Universe, and spider-verse-” that perked tom’s ears, “-directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, and today we are announcing our amazing Miss Felicia Hardy, please give a warm welcome to the stage, Your Black Cat!”

You suddenly emerged in an aisle way, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, black ankle boots, and of course black sunglasses indoors.

The music is marvel music until it suddenly changes after a recorded laugh from you into “I can’t be tamed by Miley Cyrus”.

You start owning the music while saying hi and touching fans’ hands. You decide to take off your sunglasses and throwing them to a fan, for them to keep, before getting on stage.

“What a Performance from the one the only Y/n Y/l/n!”

You laugh, being met with the loudest applause you had heard all con before being handed a Mic.

“Thank you but I'm a terrible dancer.” You Joke.

Tom was staring at the screen stunned. You had been the black cat all along. You were in the marvel universe and spidey one, so he'd definitely be seeing more of you. The hard part is that you seemed so genuine when you talked, interacted with fans and was no doubt, stunning.

“Better close your mouth or the flies will get in.” Tom turns around to find the voice of none other than his friend slash bully, Sebastian Stan, along with Anthony Mackie.

“Looks like the kid has a crush!” Anthony laughs, pointing to the screen you were on.

“I-I don’t! I don’t even know her!” Tom tries to come to his own defense, hopelessly.

“She’s got you whipped already don’t even deny it.” Harry comes in, joining the teasing of one, Tom Holland.

“Maybe we can invite her out for drinks tonight, then fanboy over here can meet her, and then probably scare her off!” Anthony mentions.

“You haven’t looked on the internet? They’ve already met.” Seb says, before showing Anthony twitter.

Anthony stands there slightly shocked before bursting into laughter.

“Well, she’s damn well a keeper for Tom since she obviously likes him.”

A staff member peaks their head in the green room to tell Tom he’s up next.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave you two!”

On the other hand, you were on an adrenaline high from being on stage, and seeing all the fans. You knew tomorrow was going to be crazy, as you expected people to book your photo op left and right since the announcement.

You had decided to decline an offer from your fellow marvel universe castmates, Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, which they so graciously told you that whenever you’re free, the offer still stood.

You had gotten to your hotel room seeing your phone blowing up on the social media apps for the second time that day.

You responded to the important stuff, before heading to bed, knowing it was going to be hectic.

You had been right, it was absolutely insane, the number of people who showed up. You had fully booked all your time slots for photo ops. You had seen so many people dressed up in marvel cosplay, ranging from Loki to Ironman, even some people dressed up as your character, which was wildly insane to see.

You had been nearing the end of the line and had enjoyed every moment with the fans, and you couldn’t wait for your autographing session later that day, to truly get a chance to talk to the fans and connect with them and how they felt about you being their beloved Black Cat.

After a few more photos, posing how they wanted, you see a fully dressed, head to toe, mask and all, Spider-Man. You had seen some spider-mans but most took off their masks to snap a picture. The person was the last in line.

“Hey Black Cat.” The southern American accented voice tells you, seeming very familiar.

“Hey, Spider, what poses do you have up your sleeve?” you ask kindly.

“I bought a few, Cat.” they laugh.

“Okay, You can do whatever a spider can right?” you pull out a line out of the comics jokingly.

“I can do flips if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that some kind of nerd pick-up line? Because it’s only kind of working.” you laugh.

“I really can, but this is one.”

He gets down on one knee, holding a black cat mask instead of a ring. The photographer captures the shocked expression on your face.

“I- Don’t- What- Spider I-”

“Ow My feelings…” Suddenly their voice changes into a British accent before they pull off the mask to reveal-

“Tom?”

“I guess you don’t have a spidey sense darling?” The photographer captures the moment without warning eating the moment up.

You laugh at that.

“I guess you found out my true identity Spider. And it’s nice to officially meet you, Tom.”

He laughs, just as nervous as you, he notices he has gotten closer to you and a strand of hair loosely is blowing in your face, so naturally, he pushes it behind your ear. Another snap of the camera can be heard.

“NOW KISS!” a voice belonging to your best friend yells from the side, mid-eating a churro.

You both laugh really hard at that.

The both of you calm down, slowly leaning lost in the moment. The camera snaps again. You both look at the photographer weirded out, and they just shrug.

“Wait can you actually do a flip?” you ask, pulling away, not wanting prying eyes aka the photographer, to pry in your business.

“I can, though I’d show you later, maybe in the greenroom?”

“That sounds naughty, but, sure.” you joke around.

He laughs before, you both take off from the area going to grab the photos.

After spending most of the day together when you could, you get Tom’s number, before heading back to your hotel room. He texts you as soon as you get back.

Spider: I had fun today, minus finding our assistants making out.

You: we should ‘snog’ too, it’ll gross them out ;)

You: I had fun too btw. Are you leaving tomorrow?

Spider: lol we should. And yeah an early flight, 6 am to be exact. Hbu?

You: Yeah me too... another day another dollar lol

Spider: ill miss you, Cat.

You: stop talking like we’ll never see each other again lol. As a matter of fact, come to my room, we’re watching a movie!

Spider: alright, I’ll order snacks.

You sigh smiling at your phone. You haven’t felt this giddy in a long time.

Your phone pings with a few Instagram notifications.

Tomholland2013 has started following you.

Tomholland2013 has tagged you in a photo.

You open Instagram to find the photo of him “proposing” to you posted.

“Ow, my leg, my- feelings...Welcome to the Universe, Cat.” the photo is captioned. You decide to post, the photo of him dipping you.

“So what do you say, Spider? Wanna help me pull off the Heist of the Heist of the Century?” you caption it, Before getting comfortable to watch a movie.

What an opportunity ;)

Tags:

@lolooo22 @webmeupspiderdaddy @harryhollandsgirlfriend @spideyspeaches @greenorangevioletgrass @queenofthepouges @sheranatic111 @keithseabrook27

#tom holland #peter parker #marvel #spider-man #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #comic con #ace comic con seattle #ace con #comiccon #Katies4kwc

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

in your rainbow paradise || h. styles

warnings: famous!reader, no covid/pre-covid, mentions of kissing

word count: 1.9k

summary: harry’s your date to the premiere of your new film...

The premiere of a new film was always nerve-wracking for any actor. Sitting through the first viewing of the finalised product, waiting for the opinions of the critics to start rolling in was a feeling you’d only become aware of six years ago when your first film came out. And now, here you were, preparing for the premiere of your eighth film. As well as nearing the six year anniversary of your so far successful acting career, you’d just celebrated five years with Harry.

For about four and a half of those wonderful years, you’d been the ‘it’ couple. Constant eyes tracing every move you made as a partnership and interviewers never failing to ask about marriage and kids. Truth be told, you and Harry were both young. You were at the height of your careers, or at least on the way to the climax of it. There was time for settling down later.

The night before a premiere was always the worst. You’d find yourself awake, sleep not even seeming an option for you. Harry would be asleep most likely, being one of the most carefree people you know. Most of the time on nights like these, you’d light a candle and venture out onto the balcony with a blanket and simply admire the empty streets below and the skyscraper-filled horizon. And, while these tranquil nights were heavenly to you, they almost always resulted in Harry scolding you for sitting outside in the bitter cold of the night. On top of Harry’s scolding, you’d receive the same from Danny, your stylist, for the bags under your eyes.

Yours and Harry’s stylists had worked together on your premiere look. They’d opted for a cohesive look, bringing small elements of Harry’s suit into your dress to make for a matching set. ‘Just one big look’ was how Danny had put it as you were at your first fitting.

The sound of a cheering audience approaching got increasingly louder. Your knee was bouncing slightly, Harry’s hand on your thigh. “They’ll love it,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“You don’t know that,” you replied.

He smiled, “They love anything you’re in.”

That brought a smile to your face. He was so supportive and it never failed to make your heart melt. Now Harry had had a taste of what it felt like to attend the premiere of your own film, he could understand the nerves you felt before every one. “Right, come on,” Harry smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you.

You got out of the car after Harry, being met with screams of fans. Putting on your best smile for the cameras as Harry leaned over to squeeze your hand. He guided you along the red carpet, his hand placed on your lower back. He couldn’t help but find himself admiring how gorgeous you looked.

Taking pictures with fans was always one of your favourite things at premieres. Getting to be so close with the people who admired you was a joy of yours. You always tried to chat with them, though that wasn’t always possible. You were just as excited to meet fans as they were to meet you, apart from the three times you’d accidentally dropped fans’ phones. The best part about bringing Harry along was that the fans usually wanted pictures with Harry too. “You look stunning, by the way,” Harry whispered in your ear.

“So do you,” You replied, turning to grin up at him. He squeezed your waist, pressing his lips to your temple. Your names were being cried out by photographers and various news outlet journalists. All you could do was smile, leaning into Harry’s side slightly. Posing for pictures was perhaps the worst aspect of a premiere. For two or three minutes you had to stay perfectly gorgeous, turning your head slightly and twisting your body to face whichever photographer demanded you do so. And then you’d have to do the same all over again on your own, Harry stood to the side sending you supportive grins.

A security guard ushered you along towards the hoard of journalists, their microphones outstretched. You could see your costar, Tom, take your spot in front of the photographers. “Y/N! Y/N!” a woman called, catching your attention. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you grinned, pulling Harry over with you. “How are you?”

“I’m great, thank you! And you? How are you two?” she asked.

“We’re good, aren’t we?” you smiled, looking up at Harry to see him nod.

“You both look wonderful, by the way. The matching outfits are beginning to become a bit of a trend between the two of you,” she said, admiring the outfits.

“I guess so. Our stylists are friends, so they like to collaborate on looks,” you replied. “I think this is my favourite, though.”

“I’m not surprised! They’re beautiful. And Harry, which of yours and Y/N’s matching looks is your favourite?”

He hummed in thought for a moment. His eyes trailed up and down your body, getting a proper look at the dress you were wearing. “Probably the Met Gala look. I loved that one,” he finally answered.

“That was a good one. Now, Y/N, how excited are you for your fans to see the film?” she questioned, her face lit up in an incredibly bright smile.

“Very excited. It’s a project I’m really proud of and I hope they enjoy it,” you said.

“I’m sure they will. Now, I have to say, people are predicting a few Oscar nominations from the trailer alone,” she grinned.

“Oh, are they?” you laughed.

“They are. What do you have to say about that?”

“It would be incredible to even be nominated but there are a lot of much more talented actors in the industry, so I doubt it’ll happen. We can always hope, though,” you said.

“Don’t say that,” Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “You’re incredibly talented.”

You grinned up at him, laying your head on his shoulder as a means to thank him. This man never failed to make you feel worthy. Your little moment was interrupted by the journalist grinning, “Get yourself a man who hypes you up like Harry hypes up Y/N. Well, it’s been lovely talking to you both.”

“And you,” you said quickly.

“Thank you very much. I hope you both enjoy the film,” she smiled, before turning her attention to Greta, the director. You quickly exchanged a hug with her, telling her how beautiful she looked. It had been almost a year since you’d last seen her on your final day of production.

You did a few more interviews with Harry, laughing and joking with him throughout. Besides, the fans loved it when you were both yourselves around one another at big events. Finally, you were doing one final interview before heading in to actually watch the film for the first time. “Hi, guys! It’s great to see you here today,” the interviewer smiled - though you were sure he was probably sick of the cheering fans and asking the same questions to the cast, only to receive almost identical answers every time.

“It would be pretty rude for Y/N not to show up today,” Harry joked, a cheeky grin etched into his features.

“This is true,” he laughed. “Now, Y/N, I just want to ask, this is your eighth film, do you have any plans for anything slightly different in the future?”

“What, like music? Yeah, I’ll just do what Harry did, randomly enter a whole new area of show business unannounced. Look out for my album, dropping next year!” you joked, earning a slight nudge in the ribs from Harry.

“Hey,” he frowned. “That isn’t very nice, Y/N.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said. “Is your ego too fragile?”

The journalist laughed at the banter the two of you shared, feeling as if he was invading a moment of privacy slightly. You looked back to him, smiling sweetly, apologetically, “But to answer your question seriously, I am working on a project. Something is in the works. It’s a little bit different to acting.”

“Can we have any hints as to what it may be?”

“Something directorial maybe?” you teased, grinning.

“That sounds exciting. Now, I’m curious about the two of you. You’re both very talented in what you do. So, Harry which of Y/N’s films is your favourite. And, for Y/N, which of Harry’s songs is your favourite?”

You both took a moment to think about that question. It was a nice change from ‘Harry, when are you proposing?’ or ‘are kids a plan for your future?’. The two of you exchanged a glance, waiting to see who would answer first. In the end, it was Harry, “Probably Clementines of the Ripest Variety. I really loved that film and I loved Y/N in it.”

You felt your cheeks heating up; hearing Harry sing your praises, particularly in front of lots of people always made you feel warm inside. He rubbed circles on your bare back, where the dress didn’t cover it, sending nerves rippling through your system. Clementines of the Ripest Variety was a courtroom film you’d shot back in 2017 that had been received particularly well by the critics. It ended up winning the most awards out of any movie you’d worked on and it was some of your proudest work. That was why Harry loved it so much - he knew how hard you’d worked for it. “And Y/N?”

“My favourite song of Harry’s? There are so many incredible ones. I’ll go with Fine Line. Such an amazing song,” you smiled.

“Amazing,” the journalist grinned. He asked a few more questions about the film before finally saying, “Thank you so much for your time. Have a great evening.”

“You too,” you smiled as you and Harry left the red carpet.

Your feet were aching and your cheeks were sore from all the forced smiles you’d had to endure throughout the course of the evening. Once you were settled in your seats, you could finally relax out of the ever piercing gaze of the public. After a quick introduction from Greta, the film began. And you could feel the nerves that had been exploring your stomach beforehand slowly dissipating as you got lost in the flow of the film. You’d occasionally sneak a glance at Harry in an attempt to gauge his opinions before the credits rolled and you could finally ask him how he felt about your latest work.

He’d always smile whenever you were on screen. It was a habit he’d adopted for as long as the two of you had been together. No matter what you were doing on screen, he was just proud to see his darling succeed. Although, you were the same really. Whenever one of Harry’s songs came on the radio or he was mentioned in passing on the television, you became beyond proud of him.

As the credits finally did roll and your name came up in big against the blackness of the screen, which was a feeling you were sure you’d never become used to, Harry leaned over to kiss you. You smiled into it, feeling him do the same. “You were perfect, love,” he said.

“You’re too kind to me,” you laughed quietly.

“It was just an observation from a fan,” he shrugged, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing at him, “Was it? But, from a boyfriend’s perspective, what did you think?”

“I still thought you were perfect, my love.”

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