#brilliant anon asking the right questions

[auroreliis]

Honestly if I was batsis I'd pretend to have a crush on the batboys close friends(excluding Damian because he and Jon are still babies) just to annoy them. Jason bring Roy over? Suddenly I'm very interested in his tattoo's and I want to know all about archery. I catch kon in the kitchen in Tim? Suddenly i'm very into the conversation they're having and am making eye contact a lot with Kon. I feel liked they'd do something like this; Batsis: You know I really like your tattoos. Roy: Oh thanks. Jason: ... You gotta go, like, now. Roy: What-

Brilliant, anon!! What a great idea!! This was very fun to write :)

(don't mind the spelling mistakes please lol. i am tired out of my mind)

For starters, when Bruce first introduced the members of the Justice League to you (it took a lot of convincing), you just couldn’t help but flirt with them.

I mean, just LOOK at Aquaman. The moment you laid your eyes on him, you felt a spark. He hadn’t noticed you staring, but surely he had felt it too. Bruce, however, had noticed you staring. He didn’t seem particularly amused, almost as though he saw you daydreaming about your wedding with Aquaman. Just when you were making your way over to them, Bruce scowled and swiftly led Aquaman away. After that, you never saw him ever again…

Or that one time when Green Lantern came over. Wow. What a man. You didn’t waste a second walking up to him and introducing yourself. The giggles you were suppressing nearly slipped out after you saw Bruce’s eye twitch. Green Lantern entertained your advances, though you knew he wasn’t interested in you. Whenever Bruce started with his, “Hal. We should leave”, you would always interrupt him with more questions directed at Hal.

“So…do you like pasta? I’m actually really good at making it. You should come over, you know? I could treat you!” You all but winked at him.

Hal found it very interesting, don’t get him wrong, he thought you were very funny, but when Bruce is standing right there beside him, he felt…intimidated. So intimidated, in fact, that he can barely reply to your questions.

“Oh…um…” he nervously glanced at Bruce. “Green. You know what, kid? Your father and I have some business to attend to…so…see you next time. Good luck with the um…yeah, never mind.”

Hal sped off, leaving you and Bruce alone. You had been in the mood to laugh until your father turned to you with a serious expression. Suddenly you weren’t in the mood to laugh anymore. To put it simply, it was a clear warning: Don’t do it again, his look communicated.

Now, Constantine, he was fun to hang around with, likely because he isn’t as scared of Batman as the rest is. And also, he’s hot. “You are so cool, honestly. It’s really impressive how often you’ve escaped death”, you leaned against the wall. To be honest, you weren’t even listening to what he was saying, all you needed to hear was his strong English accent and little sprinkles of humor.

After some bribery, you had gotten Tim to tell you that Bruce was most concerned about you meeting Constantine. For some reason, you figured…

“So…I like older men, what about you?”, you batted your eyelashes at him. You didn’t have Bruce in your periphery, as you were focusing on John, but you could imagine him shaking in fury.

“Yeah, I like older men too”, he replied nonchalantly. Dammit, he got you. Well, he was a funny guy.

Bruce seemingly relaxed at that, but that’s not to say that he was satisfied with the interaction taking place. “You’re funny, are you single-”, you could barely finish your sentence before Dick dragged you away to spend time with you. Though, you believe that Bruce asked Dick to get you away just so you couldn’t talk to Constantine like that.

Bruce had way too many attractive friends. Well, almost all his friends were attractive: Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash…hell, even Martian Manhunter. I mean, he can read minds! Just imagine the potential…

“So, I heard you can read minds. Read mine right now”, your grin was…suspicious. Bruce couldn’t read minds like J’onn could, but he could imagine what you were thinking about. No, actually, he didn’t want to imagine it.

“J’onn.”, Bruce, ever so stern, called out and gestured towards the door. The J’onn in question had merely walked off in that direction silently, as though having understood Bruce’s point from one word. Martian Manhunter hadn’t read your mind that day, to your dismay. However, you had managed to make Bruce uncomfortable, so that was considered a win.

Dick himself had very attractive friends. Wally West, quite the flirt, was among them. Though, oddly enough, you had imagined him to be more flirty. It couldn’t be that Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and told him to watch it, right?

“So, you’re fast, huh?”, you looked Wally up and down. “I happen to be”, Wally glanced at Dick.

“Okaayyyyy, Wally, you should leave”, Dick spoke with a strained smile.

“Yeah. Oh, by the way, what about the-”

“Now.”

Wally looked around awkwardly, “…right.”

And Raven—what a woman. Plus, Cyborg and Starfire filled your thoughts. Though Wally was the first and last friend of Dick’s you ever saw. A pity. He seemed to have learnt his lesson…

Now Roy Harper, Jason’s friend, was quite something. Tattoos? Archery? Hell yeah.

“Wow, so you like engineering books? Well, the manor has a huge variety. You should come by more often”, you smiled innocently.

“Um, actually, he will NOT be coming over ever again”, Jason frowned at your words.

“Why not?”, both you and Roy turned to Jason.

“BECAUSE I said so”, you and Roy made eye contact awkwardly.

“You”, Jason points at Roy, “Get out.”

“What? But you said you needed my he-”

“NOWWWW. Do NOT make me repeat myself.”

Yeah, Roy leaving was more awkward than anything else that had happened so far.

Jason didn’t have that many friends, as far as you knew at least. In other words: You would never see Roy ever again…

Now Tim, being charming himself, had many attractive friends.

For starters: Conner Kent.

You hadn’t had much contact with the Kents, however Conner had come over a few times. And wow. Despite being overly confident (and often obnoxious), he was very, very attractive. However, you have never talked to him. The reason? Tim makes sure he keeps you at arm’s length. In fact, you’re not sure you could ever find a way to interract with Tim’s friends…unless…

“Hey, Tim!”, Jason called out, “Bruce says you need to go to the cave right now.”

“What? But I have guests over…”, Tim eyes Jason suspiciously.

“I mean, if you wanna get in trouble with him, be my guest”, Jay raised his hands defensively.

“I-…fine. Conner, just a second, I will be right back. DO NOT move”, Tim sighs.

After Tim left, you shot Jason a thumbs-up and went to mingle with Superboy.

“Good evening. You must be Conner. I’ve heard a lot about you from Tim”, you say, taking it slow.

“Good evening! Hopefully you only heard good things!”, he grins.

“Oh, plenty of good things. Say, if you really can fly, then why don’t you take me for a ride? I haven’t ever seen the sky from…well, up in the sky”, you copied his grin.

“Ah, well, I would, really, but I’m not sure how Tim would feel, you know? I mean, he’s a bit of a-”, Conner started.

“A bit of a what.”, a new voice shocked the both of you.

Tim. Where the hell did he come from?

“I though I told you to leave if they started talking to you?”, Tim ignored you, only focusing on scolding Conner.

“Well, that would’ve been incredibly rude…”, Conner struggled to defend himself.

“You.”, Tim turns to you.

“Me?”, you said, though you weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Yes, you. What’s the big idea? Why did you pull that just to talk to Conner? I don’t know what you have planned, but forget it immediately. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell Bruce to reinstate the therapy sessions. Then you can explain to him why you enjoy sabotaging others so much.”

That was, quite frankly, terrifying. You hadn’t been this scared of Tim in a while.

Well, safe to say you won’t be doing this again…

[shooting-love-arrows]

could you write where darling wakes up and sees 1950s husband in the middle of his morning routine and finds out hes not as neat as they thought?

but instead of taking it badly they love him even more

Dear Anon,

Aww, that's heartwarming!

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 and not so perfect morning

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied) Tw. angsty, hurt and comfort. A/N: I decided to take into consideration this question when writing this fic. So it is longer and about our dearest 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Squeeack…

You were awoken by the quiet and familiar sound of the bathroom door being open. It means only one thing: your dear husband was currently in the bathroom. Like every other day during this time around.

“Ugh…” A soundless groan of misery left your mouth. Unluckily you didn't sleep well that night. Your sleep was shallow and you couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. Not to mention you woke up to every sound you could hear. And just when you were slipping into a blissful dreamland, your bathroom doors decided to prevent you from slipping further. For now, you snuggled closer to your fluffy pillow. Your thoughts began to roam freely but at some point focused on something that has been bothering you for a while. 

It was confusing. 

At the very beginning of your marriage, you found it surprising. Not many people were that determined to wake up early in the morning. After a few months, you reasoned that it was just part of his personality. Perhaps a perfectionist problem? Part of his routine he didn’t want to stray from? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to pray. Your logic was that if he wants to share it with you, he’ll do so. But after months turned into years, with you still being left in the dark, you began to feel…doubt. 

“Why does he do that?” You wondered more than once. You had no idea what was the reason why your sweetheart got up before you, shuffled around the bathroom, only to come back to bed right before your alarm clock rang, like nothing ever happened. “What does he do there? Should I ask him? Does he want me to ask him? Maybe I should wait for him to tell me himself?”

So many questions, so little answers…

You sighed heavily. It looks like you won’t be able to catch some zzz’s anymore. You were too awake, especially with your mind running miles an hour.

“What a pity…” You rolled over your back and groggily opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyesight. The familiar white ceiling of your cozy bedroom greeted you like an old friend. Streams of warm sunlight were shyly peaking in the room from behind the gaps of the closed curtains. Everything stood still. It was peaceful. You let yourself sink into the soft bed and strained your ears to hear your husband shuffling in the bathroom. You wanted to say you were content but… “What a pity he isn’t here with me…”

You let your eyes slide over to the other side of the bed. It tugged on your heart that it was cold and empty with a messily thrown blanket and a pillow with a dent the size of your husband's head is what has greeted you. It was a let down. You wished he was there to greet you with his brilliant smile that seemed to light up the room, whisper to you a ‘good morning, my darling’ that always caused your heart to skip a beat and let you kiss his soft lips that perfectly molded with yours. This is what you needed to start a good day. 

Involuntarily you did a big and satisfying stretch. Your body felt heavy and begged you to stay in. Just lay down…under those fluffy blankets. Let yourself relax and wait for your dearest husband to climb back beside you. Wake up to him and cherish those kisses you'll share…

“I’m spoiled fella, aren’t I?”

There was no point in dwelling about such matters this early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, you bravely fought those demons of laziness and decided to get up. You decided to invest this energy in something productive instead. And there’s so much to do around the house! 

“Hold on a moment…isn’t my husband in the bathroom?” Your mind went blank before you eagerly jumped out of your bed. You wouldn’t miss a chance to spend more time with the love of your life. 

You shuffled towards your bathroom, barely containing your happiness. So high on positive emotions and not expecting anything unusual, you didn’t even hesitate to open the door. 

Squeeack!

There was a beat of silence. Both of you froze for entirely different reasons. 

You stopped mid stride when entering the small space. Your jaw went slack when your eyes took a closer look at your husband. Your shoulder dropped and you took a deeper breath. His face was…bare. His glistening face seemed to be freshly washed since it was glowing in the warm light. He…he was mesmerizing. 

While you were too busy admiring the entirely new side of your husband you didn’t notice how 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 seemed to be feeling the exact opposite of you. His eyes widened till the white was showing around his irises and his stare didn’t dare to stray from you. His breathing quickened and his body began to fold, hoping to make himself smaller. 

This couldn’t be happening…it can’t be! How…why are you awake? Why are you here? You…fuck…you found him out!

“Swee — ”

“This can’t be happening…! You…no…how…?” You were cut off by your husband's quiet and wobbly muttering. Your eyebrows threw together and your body grew still. You were quick to note how your husband hid his face from you and was hunched over the sink. You heard just how heavy his breathing has become. Something was clearly wrong. 

“Sweetheart…?”

The reality around 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 became more vivid. His senses heightened to the point he was sure he could feel his surroundings. He was sinking so deep into his headspace he began to get lost there. Everything was becoming too much. His head, his thoughts and his feelings were ripping him apart. And the reason behind it was very valid. Whatever he has built around his person, whatever worth he had in your eyes and the control were gone with the swing of those blasted doors! 

“Dearest?”

He was falling apart. 

You flinched back (but only because you didn’t expect it) when he started laughing hysterically. Your concern for your husband only grew tenfold when you saw his state worsening by every second. You wanted to help him however you didn’t understand what could be the cause of this. Was it…you?

It turns out you didn’t have more time to analyze the situation, because you had to rush over when you saw your husband crumbling to the floor. Before his body could hit the ground at full force, you caught him safely in your arms. He was hyperventilating and you feared that he would pass out from the lack of air. His body was shaking badly and muttering things under his nose like a madman. Just like you did many times before in different scenarios, you tucked his head into the crook of your neck, laid your chin on top of his head, brought him safely into your arms to hold him tightly. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 closed his eyes, brought his knees close to his chest and circled his arms around them. He curled into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth in your arms. 

Sob…sob…sob…

But your heart broke when you heard the first sobs escaping his lips. 

You really wished you would know what to say or do in that situation. You wished you were more educated on that matter so you could be useful. You wished you could fulfill your role as his lifetime partner to him. Unfortunately, for now you had to rely on your instinct with a promise to be better and aid your husband in the time of need.

Starting now.

“Let it out love…let it out…” You whispered against his ear and started caressing his head. Sweet nothings began to pour out of your mouth soon after. Half of his curls were freed from the curlers and you carefully carded your fingers through them in a soothing motion. 

“Y…you…u…fo…fou…nd…out…!” He wailed in your neck after a while of intense crying. His voice held nothing but despair, pain and heartbreak. Not to mention he could barely speak with how violent his sobs were. You blinked rapidly, scrambling to understand what he meant by that. 

“What have I found out, dearest husband?” You lowered your voice.

“You…you…w…will…leave…leave…me!” He choked out those words like he didn’t hear your question. 

Your eyes widened when you heard this statement. How could he think you’ll leave him? What’s the reasoning behind this logic? Are you failing as a partner? Apparently so because otherwise, your husband shouldn’t be saying, nor even thinking, about such dark thoughts. 

Some moments passed before you opened your mouth again. 

“For better and for worse…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…until death do us part.” You whispered those sacred vows, engraved in your mind till the end of your time. You squeezed him tighter so your bodies were melting against each other. Your husband's eyes widened when he heard them, especially when laced with so much love and adoration just like during your wedding. His chest was heaving up and down, violent hiccups jolting his body. His face was flushed, fat tears pouring from his eyes and snot steadily coming down his nose.

He was at his worst, ugly and disgusting. And you…you dared to say those words? Why…?

“Be it whether you’re at your best, at your worst, when we’re young and when we’ll grow old, whether you wear your makeup or not. I am here for you.” You swallowed thickly and fought against your own tears. Your husband needs you and you won’t fail him ever again.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 processed your words before he let out another wail that echoed in the bathroom. You felt your husband latching onto your waist and clutching onto it tightly. He was afraid that if he won’t hold tight enough you’ll get up and leave him for good. He buried his face in your neck and continued to cry harder. He was reduced to a crying mess and shadow of the person he usually portrays himself as. 

“I will never cease to love you, the dearest love of my life.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 46!

another week, another rec list! before we dive in, though, i have a request: please have a look at this fic description and help anon find it!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a lighthouse in the fog | greenbergsays/@greenbergsays | 6.8k | T

The one where Buck wakes up after surgery and realizes that Tommy doesn't meet his emotional needs. i love the descriptions of buck and what he's feeling and experiencing here!! so so good

all my little words | youbetsya/@fleabagdiaz | 11.4k | T

Eddie: Did you just send me an email?? Buck: yeah lol (in which buck and eddie email while eddie is in el paso). email correspondence my beloved!! i love how well this captures their voices and dynamic through emails and texts. such a lovely fic <3

a straight guy and an ally walk into a bar... | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 23.2k | M

After Buck gets dumped, he remembers he agreed to go to Abby's wedding with a date. Eddie steps up and pretends to be his boyfriend. All hell breaks loose. buddie fake dating!! shenanigans!! this is unhinged and also soft and i love it so much. the scene where taylor pops up had me laughing so hard. brilliant!

bad idea, right? | brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz| 6.8k | E

Buck stumbles across Eddie's grindr profile. no no this is the BEST idea actually. the coding is brilliant, this looks so so good, and it's also just fantastically written!

darling (you're the one i want) | archerincombat | 2.5k | G

Eddie keeps buying Buck gifts and Buck keeps not getting the idea. friends to fiances! barnes and noble! flowers! this fic has everything!! loved reading this <3

giving way to labored breath | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 1.5k | T

In which falling in love was the easy part, and learning how to actually be together is another beast entirely. They work it out. blanket rec for an author whose work i've really been enjoying this week <3 this one in particular is such a brilliant look at buck and eddie getting together <3

i could give you fifty reasons | marviless/@marviless | 15.7k | T

buck is on a mission to help eddie recover his self-confidence. it goes well for exactly zero parties involved. this might not go well for anyone who's actually involved but it went very very well for me <3 i love buck being earnest and a little embarrassing and so very full of love for eddie!!

if you love me right, then who knows? | ipretendtobesane/@userbuddie | 3.4k | E

buck and eddie stumble upon a feminization kink, and eddie really likes his boyfriend's tits. there's something about buddie playing around with feminisation that just hits so hard. this is so so good!!

love in the shock of lightning | justhockey | 4k | T

It was real. It had happened. It had happened to Buck, and to Eddie, and to see it again…to be confronted with it so abruptly, without any time to steel himself against the memories of that night? Eddie had almost collapsed to his knees then and there. hmmm yes spec fic we love to see it!! and stress baking! loveliest emotional hurt/comfort getting together fic <3

never seen a bluer sky | Chash/@ponyregrets | 1.9k | T

"Hey, what brings you joy?" Eddie is expecting some waffling in Buck's response. Maybe some suspicion. It's a weird thing to ask, obviously. Joy isn't a word he uses much, isn't a go-to. But even if what makes you happy is a more normal question, it's not right. He needs something deeper. buck and eddie finding joy my beloved <3 this hits the spot just right!!

promise you'll put your hand in my hand | farfromthstars/@doeeyeseddie | 4k | T

5 times buck and eddie hold hands platonically, and 1 time they don't. holding hands <3 so fluffy so sweet so so lovely <3

put on a slow dumb show for you | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 2.3k | T

they’re sleepy and a little drunk and buck’s one step behind. do i even need to say how much i love bed sharing fics? like i think you all know that by now lmao. anyway this one in particular hits that fluff and crack spot so perfectly and i love it so very much <3

since forever | @hotshotsxyz | 1.3k

the loveliest tumblr fic!! soft and sweet indeed <3 this eddie is brilliant!

skin still wet (still on my skin) | marrows | 6.2k | E

Buck’s hand is on his thigh. Eddie chokes on his beer, eyes fixed on the curl of Buck’s fingers, tucked in just above his knee to where his skin meets the sofa. He hadn’t noticed, how hadn’t he even noticed? 8xo6 codas haven't failed me yet lol and this is one of my favourites!! it follows the episode so naturally <3 also another appearance of buck's praise kink, my best friend yay

somebody i can kiss | Rianne/@rianneeyre | 7.9k | E

Buck might be a little touch-starved. And he knew that, but he was not prepared to deal with how the knowledge would interact with his newfound awareness of his crush on—no, realistically, his undying love for Eddie. [...] The point is, he should not spend Christmas on a fucking sleepover with Eddie. But he’s gonna. christmas sleepover <3 i for one cannot wait to drown in holiday fics soon and i already know i'll be revisiting this over the next few weeks. this is soft and spicy and just absolutely brilliant <3

take the bed warmed by the body | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 2.5k | T

It’s three parts bravado and one part reminder. He thinks about it, sometimes, his first shift at the 118—he doesn’t think either of them quite knew how much they’d meant it when they’d promised to have each other’s backs. He definitely hadn’t known, then, that he’d wake up one day and wonder why Buck isn’t in his bed. i love this twist on sharing a bed so very much <3 so brilliantly them!!

that kind of music just soothes the soul | KejfeBlintz/@kejfeblintz | 1.8k | G

Settling back into the corner of his couch with a happy sigh, Eddie let the fizz of excitement from his impromptu dance party hum beneath his skin. He had done something joyful for himself and had been rewarded with his best friend and a six pack of beer appearing on his doorstep. He’d danced and the world hadn’t ended. he'd danced and the world hadn't ended!! lovely episode coda and such a well-written eddie <3

through the looking glass | jukoist | 6.4k | G

Buck likes Tommy. He does! And he definitely isn't in love with Eddie. He's just... worried. Because Eddie keeps vanishing on Sundays, leaving Buck with the boyfriend he definitely likes as much as he should. Everything is fine. the dialogue in this fic is particularly great <3 lovely lovely fic!!

[myjealouseyes]

Request from an anon: hi!! could u write about ravenclaw!reader actually meeting harry’s parents? and remus and sirius (pls make them a couple). i would love to see their interactions w her

Part one.

Send request here.

Harry squeezes your hand under the table as you desprately try to regain your footing after his sudden proclamation of love. You wonder if he feels bad, knowing he sprung that on you while you were mentally preparing for the moment that couple make or break your relationship. (‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘Just relax.’ Honestly, does he know you at all?)

As you manage to push all though feelings away for later you here a distant murmur of voices coming from the kitchen, all toppling over each other in what you hoped to be excitement. As you’re about to ask Harry if everything was okay, two of the four adults march out carrying dishes of food in each arm. ‘Big dinner,’ you think to yourself as you straighten up. ‘That’s a good sign right?’ You put on your best smile and begin to speak but Someone, Sirius based on Harry’s description, beat you to it. “Well if it isn’t famed Ravenclaw we keep hearing about!” He holds out his hand and you shake gently. “Y/N, is it? Harry can’t quit talking about you!”

His tone is loud and boisterous, but not unkind. It still sends Harry wheeling as he flushed deeply and releases your hand to run it through his hair hide his obvious fluster. “Padfoot!” He groaned. “You said you’d be cool!” Sirius cackles as he takes a seat next to a tall man, who you immediately recognize as your old professor. Remus slaps gently his shoulder giving you a polite smile. “It’s nice to see you again Y/N.”

“Again?” Comes a question from a head of red hair rounding the corner. Your heart speeds up as you recognized as Harry’s mom. Harry must notice, because his finger starts tracing reassuring shapes on your knee. Your shoulders relax slightly. “Oh, yes, I taught her during my short-lived time at Hogwarts. She’s quite brilliant.” You feel yourself relax at the compliment, even more so when Lily flashes you a smile. As she sits down you let out a small breath. Three down, only one more to go. Harry’s dad—

“James!” Lily calls with love, but underlying exasperation. You find yourself giving a small smile. You gave Harry the same tone, especially during O.W.Ls. He strides in and sits next her, holding her gaze in the manner of a lovesick teenager. You can’t help glancing at Harry to see if his stare for you matches. (It does. He looks away as you catch him.) “Y/N!” He exclaims as he finally looks away from his wife. “I feel like I already know you with how much my son brings you up!” Harry groans again and his family chuckles at his expense. You find yourself joining in. For the first time this whole night, you relax completely.

[honeylullaby]

“Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” PT1

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You, Lord Baddingham’s daughter, encounter Mr Declan O’Hara on your first day at Corinium… 💋

18+ FANFIC / SMUT. Medium length? Reader character aged at 21.

Alone in your father’s office at Corinium, you take the opportunity to snoop around his personal belongings. As a father, he was much less than devoted, but your mother had somehow managed to persuade him to let you uptake a small office job — faxing documents, organising fathers diary but most importantly, shadowing Declan O’Hara for journalistic experience. “What are you doing?” Tony Baddingham asked, tightly suited and lips pressed together in common anger. “Sorry, Dad. Just… having a look.” You sigh, taking a seat at the other side of his desk. Tony reclined in his seat ahead of you, leather brogues resting in front of your face and arms clasped behind his head. “So… no fuck ups today. Don’t speak to Declan unless you’re spoken to, don’t fax anything that you’re not told to, don’t leave until I’ve told you to.” Your father instructs you, and keeps a close eye on you, rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad.” You drone, rising from your seat and taking a step towards the door. “I mean it. I’ll be watching.” He ominously informs you once again. Exasperated with his tedious words, you swing open his office door and slam it shut.

“That’s about the right reaction for leaving his office.” Declan chimes as he hurriedly sped past the office, clicking his fingers at you to follow him. How brilliant — a whole day with two chauvinistic pigs instead of one. “You shouldn’t click at me. I would’ve followed you anyway.” You tut, slouching after him to his personal office. Declan didn’t respond, but pushed his office door open for you to sit down. “Right, much to do today. Did ya’ check the notes ‘ya dad gave to ‘ya?” He grunts, lighting a cigarette and taking a seat in front of you. Avoiding eye contact the best you could, you exhaled and lit a cigarette of your own. “I don’t read anything that Dad tells me to. Cunt.” You spit, rolling your eyes. Declan couldn’t help but laugh — there wasn’t a truer sentence said, in his opinion.

“Ya’ not too keen on him then?” He asks, glancing up at you from his mounds of paperwork. “No. He’s a pig, rude, and cheats on my mum all the time with this Cameron girl.” You utter, eyes scanning the windows of the office, willing the universe to allow a glimpse of the woman that ruined your parents marriage. “I think we’re going to get along,” Declan begins, before clearing his throat, “Cameron’s good at what she does, but I don’t see why Tony’s so interested. She’s twenty years younger than him, fa’ fucks sake.” His words feel like a twisting knife in your stomach. It took a lot to come to terms with your fathers infidelity — your mum handled it so well, but seeing her sitting alone in the lounge every night was simply too much for you to bare.

“Are you married?” You question the Irishman through an elongated puff of your cigarette. He visibly takes a moment to carefully consider his response, placing his paperwork back down on the desk and looking up at you. “I was. Not really anymore.” He states. Furrowing your brow, you can’t help but speak with an upturned nose. “Not really? How can you not really be married?” You ask.

“The same way ya’ father is not really married anymore.” Declan snaps, his harsh tone unwavering. Ouch. But, being the self-assured Baddingham that you are, you continue to probe him. “So you’re a cheat?” You snidely remark. “Not me.” He replies, tapping ash from his cigarette and maintaining intense eye contact with you. For once, you were left speechless. If there was one thing you had inherited from your father, it was most definitely your self-important, highly confident personality. Lifting your foot up underneath the desk, you raised it up Declan’s leg, stroking down the length of it gently.

•

“What are ya’ doing?” He quizzes, fighting the urge to smirk at your boldness. “I’ve watched your show. I love the way you pick apart your guests. It’s always been a dream of mine to have you bend me over that chair and fuck me senseless.” You wink, simpering at your own comment. Coughing in a flurry of both sheer shock and exhilaration, Declan’s gaze widened. “Listen, Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” He mutters softly. In all honestly, there was nothing more than Declan would love to do than your suggestion. But the hypocrisy of being intimate with you after chastising Tony so heavily for sleeping with Cameron was too much for him to swallow.

Scraping your chair across the floor, you clambered onto your knees and crawled under Declan’s desk. Screwing up his face in confusion, Declan kept a close eye on the happenings outside his office. Briskly unzipping his trousers and pulling his erect cock from his boxers, you awaited for his gruff moan as you swirled your tongue around the reddening tip. “Fuck, ya’ such a naughty girl.” He grunts, scrambling for a pen from his drawer in order to feign busyness. Desperate to draw out this pleasurable experience for him, you sucked at the tip for a few moments, smirking through a full mouth as you watched his squirming legs from the corner of your eye.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, Declan stroked his brutish fingers through your hazelnut hair, his spine shivering from intimacy. Taking a deep inhale, you take as much of his 9 inch girth into your mouth as possible, saliva escaping from your lips as your head bobs slowly. Glancing up at him with sparkling eyes, Declan allowed himself a profound moan — the risk of it all heightening his senses. Chronically in need of Declan’s release, you maintain your tempo, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

“Look at me whilst I’m in your throat.” He orders, pushing your chin up with his finger and moaning as he gets to see your wide, pure eyes. Raising your hands up to grab a hold of his thighs, you pushed your limits even deeper, speeding up and keeping him towards the back of your throat. “Fuckin’ hell. If ya’ keep going like that, ya’ gonna make me cum.” He spat out, but his words only spurred you on even further. Eyes watering and nose sniffling, you continued your passionate assault on his cock — lust taking ahold of common sense. Your incessant deepthroating became all too much for Declan, and his thighs seized furiously as he shot his sweet load down the back of your throat, coating the soft palate of your mouth. Swallowing it without a second thought, you scooted yourself out from under the desk as Declan hurried to zip his trousers up. Staring at him longingly as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, you winked at him with fluttering eyelashes. “I can’t believe we just did that. Ya’ fuckin’ minx.” Declan beamed with pride.

The door of Declan’s office was prized open, and it took Declan a few moments to fully grasp the mischievousness of the situation he found himself in this afternoon. Tony Baddingham, eyes ablaze with fury, bellowed as deafeningly as his lungs could manage, “What the fuck is going on?” Truly, it baffled you for a moment how someone would be in the know of your sexual escapade. That was until you turned to your side, and three quarters of the office looked on, twiddling their thumbs and pretending in futile that they hadn’t witnessed you on your knees for Declan O’Hara. It’s very possible that you may both be in a slight bit of trouble.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Could you talk about pegging for Jace, aemond and aegon? I’d love to hear your hours about each of them with that!

Brilliant question anon!! So I've received quite a few requests about pegging, some with ideas and some just asking to discuss it. I'm gonna use this ask to just discuss some brief thoughts about pegging before I begin the other asks :))

Obviously, NSFW sub!characters below the cut.

AEGON:

So Aegon is one that definitely knew he would like pegging before it came up with you. He had dabbled a bit in fingering himself before but he had never mentioned this to anyone and he had never used a toy on himself either. This was something he was too scared to tell the brothel workers because he didnt think he'd be able to take being humiliated or made fun of for it.

This comes up during one of your favourite things to do with Aegon: give him a teasing handjob while asking him about his fantasies and what he'd like to do in future. Aegon gets so flustered so easily and watching him trying to form full sentences while you stroke him is so so hot. He eventually mentions that he likes to finger himself sometimes, and obviously you just have to ask more about this.

Once you try pegging, aegon is absolutely obsessed. The moment you have the strap on all thoughts go out the window.

AEMOND:

For Aemond you definitely have to mention it to him because he'd never ever bring it up himself. You suggest it because he knows how badly he wants to feel safe and... small? He LOVES when you manhandle him and position him and make him feel small.

You suggest pegging for this reason, and while he's hesitant at first once he tries he really likes it. However, it's definitely a rare thing because he needs SO aftercare after pegging. He's is so so prone to subdrop after pegging, sometimes even when you're right there holding him he can still start to slip into subdrop because he just feels SO vulnerable afterwards.

Also I think maybe he likes plugs? You get the idea when Aemond is starting to slip into subdrop. You catch it luckily and some praise and comfort helps him feel better. As he first drops though, he keeps on saying he feels empty. Next time, as part of aftercare you put a plug in him and it just makes him feel so much better. The plug only gets removed when he's 100% recovered.

JACE:

Pegging is something Jace didnt even know existed. He knew he liked fingering, and he let you know that pretty early. (Jace might seem all noble and innocent but the moment he's turned on he turns into a whiney little slutty thing who can't stop babbling and easily reveals his fantasies, truly no thoughts only horny)

You also don't suggest pegging, not at first anyway because you know how shy he is already just about fingering.

But.... Aegon tells him, the little fucker.

It's at the dinner with the whole family. You're sitting next to Jace of course and Aegon is taking great pleasure in teasing him. He gets to pegging somehow, asking him if he fucks you or if you fuck him. It's meant as a joke, and of course Jace blushes and tells him to stop being so crude. But then that night, you check in on him before bed to make sure what aemond said didnt get under his skin and to your shock he actually gets all blushy and squirmy and tells you he might want to try it.

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n asks Oscar for help in order to get Lando to fall in love with her, but y/n breaks her heart in the process, realizing that she loved Oscar the entire time

ohh okay anon! your mind is literally brilliant. also i'm not sure if you wanted lando to break her heart or not but that's what i did, kinda!

tw: fem!reader, kinda arsehole lando again, oscar pines hee hee, lnk if you want me to add anything. ignore any mistakes can’t i cba proofreading rn!

w/c: 1.5k

"oscccc" you sing as you skip into the mclaren hospitality. the look on your face lets oscar know that he most definitely will not like whats coming next. oscar sings your name back to you in the same tone that makes you laugh at him.

"i need your help!" you ask sweetly, plopping yourself down next to oscar on the couch he was resting on. your feet come to rest in his lap as you give him your best puppy eyes.

"don't give me those eyes. you haven't even asked me yet." oscar says although he cannot hold back his own smile.

"i'm sure you know how much i like lando? alex says it's pretty obvious." you start, a little bit nervous now with your words. speaking of your words, it is like oscar is stabbed in the chest as you confirm your affections towards his teammate. what he would do to be lando right now, oscar is never usually envious but this is so much different. the australian had an inking of suspicion that you liked lando but he did not know for sure so he could gaslight himself into thinking that it was all in his head and that you were just really friendly with the tanned boy.

oscar's mouth feels like it is full of cotton as he wills his brain to generate a response that is not just oscar confessing his love for you.

"uh yeah, yeah i may have heard something about that."

you blush a little at oscar's words a little embarrassed about how many people know about this apparently obvious crush you had on lando. you clear your throat.

"right, well. you know lando quite well right? you surely do because you spend so much time with him. i was wondering if you could maybe put in a good word for me?" you practically beg oscar. the boy seriously thinks he is going to die from heartbreak. you were coming to him to ask him to put in a good word? him? who has been in love with you since you had first arrived in paddock. what kind of karma was thing? was oscar really that horrible in his past life?

oscar copies you and clears his throat too. "sure, i'll say to him after free practise." oscar offers. he so badly wants to be one of those people who will not let you have anyone else if he cannot have you, he wants to be that person so badly right now. but he is not. all he wants is to see you happy and if that was not with him, then he would just have to make do with that. the way you squeal in response to his offer makes him want to kill himself right there and then. okay maybe he was being a little dramatic but his mind was already thinking about having to watch you every race weekend, hanging off of lando's arm. oh god he would have to retire from f1 in his second year.

you skip away again as oscar is stuck in his mind. he has never felt this depressed in his entire life he thinks. like his thoughts summoned him, lando comes padding over. you could not be far then, oscar surmises.

"hey, man." lando greets as he sits where you were just sitting moments ago. oscar just decides to do it now and get it over and done with, waiting until after free practise might actually kill him off. he would rather just say to lando then he could get it out of his mind and concentrate on getting you out of his mind.

"hey, i've gotta ask you something." oscar says, his heart hammering in his chest. he has no idea why. a part of his is praying he rejects you, in a nice way, of course. then maybe he will not have to retire his promising racing career.

unbeknown to both mclaren drivers you were lingering around, listening in on their conversation.

lando cocks his head in questioning, silently telling oscar to continue and oscar does exactly that.

he utters your name. "she wanted me to put in a good word for her, if you know what i mean." oscar tries to make it lighthearted and not act like one single sentence shattered his heart into a thousand pieces and the only girl who held the glue to piece it back together was longing after a man who was near enough the complete opposite from him.

lando smirks. "oh yeah, i heard she has a thing for me." he says, cockily. a part of oscar fears for where this conversation is headed.

"and?"

"and what?" lando asks.

"and are you gonna ask her out or what?" oscar questions like it was obvious because to him it was. how could he not ask a girl like you out? although oscar was guilty of the same thing it was not for a lack of wanting from oscar, that much was true.

"nahh. she's not really..." lando trails off. oscar gets defensive as soon as the first word rolls off the brits tongue.

"not really what?" oscar's words bite like bullets.

"you know man, she's not really wag material." is all lando says.

your face drops even further from your listening spot. this was not the way you had seen this conversation going. you were almost certain lando had liked you back. seems like you were wrong.

while you cower and hide to nurse your broken heart, oscar seeths at lando.

"that is no way to speak about a girl, nevermind her." oscar defends you. "it honestly seems like you don know what you're missing out on because she is a lovely girl. even though there is no such thing as 'wag material' i know for a fact that she is that and much much more, you are just too blind to see it. some people are surface level pretty and pretty on the inside too."

lando's brows raise at oscar's rant about you. the brit seems surprised at his view on you. the kind words not unusual from oscar but he could hear the devotion and love behind them, anyone with a pair of working ears could hear how deep his fondness for you went.

"if you like her that much much then why don't you ask her out, man?" lando asks. oscar is not stupid he can hear the teasing tone in his voice but he chooses to ignore it as he sighs.

"i can't she likes you." oscar just barely gets the words out before you appear at oscar's side. your eyes are teary and that just confirms his worst fear. you had heard everything. everything lando had said about you, he hoped you knew that it was so far from the truth.

"you really think that about me?" oscar winces as he assumes the questions was aimed at the older of the two papaya boys but when he opens his eyes he sees your eyes are pinned on his. oh you were talking to him. he had forgotten that if you had heard what lando had said you had most likely heard what he had said too. it was not too special and nothing of a confession but the heaviness behind his words told you much more than his words ever could.

"yeah i do" it is false confidence oscar speaks with but he really wants you to know he meant every single word and he could not convince you of that if you was a stuttering mess. "i like you."

you just stare at him. somewhere in this lando had ended up leaving you both to have some privacy, he had that much decency.

"i think i like you too." you tell oscar, although your words are a little unsure, definitely not as sure as oscar's.

oscar scoffs. "you don't. and you don't need to say that because you feel bad."

you roll your eyes. "i'm not just saying it. i think i do really like you."

"no, you like lando. you only like me because i'm the only option you have." oscar frowns at his own words, saddened by the mere thought of you only wanting him because you cannot have lando.

you take the seat lando was sitting in, and you before him. you take his hands in yours and hold them gently.

"i think i wanted to make you jealous by asking you to put in a good word with lando for me?" you tell him. to oscar is seemed that you had not even made sense of your own feelings.

oscar finally nods as he sees the sincerity in your eyes.

"if you do really like me then i would love to take you out." oscar says, his words less sure than before and a little more shy. it makes you smile and that is when you are sure that you do like oscar. and yeah maybe you do still like lando but you are almost certain that it was just a harmless crush. this with oscar? you know this could very much be something real.

"i'd love that." you nod as oscar grins back at you, you have never seen oscar smile that much and you have known him for a while now.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Sunsets - Dick Grayson (Robin) X Male Reader

Title: Sunsets

Dick Grayson (Robin) X Male Reader

Additional Characters: Slade (Mentioned), Cyborg (Mentioned), and Beast Boy (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 2,167

Warnings: Post-Robin's Slade Apprentice Era, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, Slade, some italics, hallucinations mentioned, friends to lovers, nicknames, slight angst, and fluff

The sun was slowly setting, casting an orange glow over the skyline. The sky was a light purple. The air was cool but the atmosphere was warm enough that it could still be considered summer; thought, autumn was on the way. Dick stood on the rooftop of the Tower, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the sunset. He loved sunsets and sunrises. As you once said jokingly, ‘the early bird catches the worm’. It was mesmerizing, really, the sunset; how everything changed with the setting of the sun. From the bright red to the brilliant oranges and yellows to the soft pinks, purples, and blues. Everything was changing. A new day was coming.

Dick sighed, deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment. You were sneaky and quiet, but not sneaky enough; he always knew you were there. He didn't even have to turn his head to know that you were beside him once he reopened his eyes. His gaze drifted over to you in a silent question, wondering why you had come up to the rooftop.

"I've been looking for you," You finally answered his silent question, "The pizza arrived." Your voice was calm; yet quiet. “The pizza delivery guy mistook me for B.B., so that was fun.”

He hummed, "I'll be down in a moment." He simply answered, and you hummed right back, with a small nod. Though, when you didn't leave, Dick looked back over at you, raising an eyebrow. 

"I didn't only come up here to tell you that dinner arrived." You responded. Dick could see you fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. He could tell that something was on your mind. And before he could ask you to elaborate, you continued; "I also thought that maybe you'd like some company." You turned to look at him once more, "If not, I totally understand if you want to be alone. But, if you want someone to talk to, or just be here, then... Well. I'm here." You shrugged slightly, as if unsure of what else to say. But as Dick's silence lingered in the air, your nervous grin faltered as you quickly tried to recover. "I mean, I can go if you don't want to talk or anything! I understand this might be your 'me time,' and all... I just wanted to offer some support. I mean… I don’t want to be that guy that rains on your ‘me time’ parade." You spoke quickly, almost stumbling over your words. Dick couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten, and the corners of his lips twitch in amusement to your nervous rambling.

The past few weeks had been pretty rough for the team, especially for Dick. First, he had locked himself in his room, trying to find any possible leads to Slade's whereabouts. Then he took up the mantle of Red X, lying to his friends, trying to trick Slade into giving him the information he needed to stop him for good; Slade saw right through his lies. And then Slade put Nanoscopic probes into the team's bloodstream - with one press of a button, the Nanoscopic probes would slowly, but painfully, drain their life force until they were nothing more than husks of their former selves. Basically... The team, Dick included, didn't fully understand the full effects of the Nanoscopic probes; except that they were painful when activated. But Slade used Dick, used him knowing how much he truly cared for his Titan team. Dick was forced to join Slade as his apprentice, and there was nothing he or his team could do to stop it. 

Dick did stop it. Even when things or certain events seem incredibly impossible, he, and the team, always found a way through it. 

Even during the time that he was hallucinating. It didn't take long for you and the team to figure out that he wasn’t actually seeing Slade whatsoever. It hurt your soul when you saw him in the basement of the tower, being punched around by some invisible force... You quickly got to work, trying to find out what had caused these horrifying hallucinations. You stayed up, for hours, when it finally clicked. The mask. Slade's mask. You brought the mask to Cyborg, and you and he did some tests... It was confirmed. There was this substance, residue, that had hallucinogenic effects on those who inhaled it. 

It wasn't long until Dick was cured...

The memory of Dick thrashing and pulling against the restraints when he was still under the influence of the hallucinogenic, haunted you. The anger, fear, determination... It was all evident in his voice. You cared so much for him. You had come to the realization that you had liked him more than just a friend a year ago.

At first, when the realization came, you tried to deny it. That was, well, hard to do, considering the evidence that was stacked up against you. You loved his smile, his kindness towards you, and the fact that he never stopped fighting. You loved how passionate he was about every single thing he did. You felt like you were in heaven whenever you were with him. But... How long would you be able to stay in that heaven before it shattered into pieces? Into reality? Would he even return your feelings? Maybe he did really think of you as only a friend - a teammate. Maybe you shouldn’t even say anything on the subject. The questions plagued your thoughts relentlessly, and when you weren't plagued with them, you were filled with doubt. You were at a very confusing time of your life…

Dick found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze was fixed on the fading light, but his mind was elsewhere, grappling with the aftermath of his ordeal with Slade. Every muscle felt tense, his jaw clenched as he tried to process the tangled mess of guilt, fear, and uncertainty that was swirling within him. He knew he needed to talk about it, to let someone in, but the words seemed to stick onto the back of his throat, refusing to emerge; he could choke on them. He turned to you, his trusted companion, his heart heavy with unspoken words. His usual confidence faltered, replaced by a rare vulnerability for the usually stoic Robin. With a deep breath, he finally opened his mouth, the words coming out in a hesitant, almost stuttering manner; the gears turning in his mind.

"I... I don't know how to say this, but- I need to talk to someone about this… About Slade." He gritted his teeth, anger filling him at the mere sound and thought of his name, but he continued; "And... Everything. I... I'm not good at this, at feelings, but I... I can't keep it all inside anymore." His eyes searched yours for understanding and acceptance. The weight of his burdens seemed to lessen slightly as he spoke, the first step towards unburdening his soul. "You are one of my trusted friends, Y/N," He continued, "I... Uh..." He paused, pursing his lips as he turned back to the setting sun. He inhaled deeply, feeling the back of his eyes stinging with unshed, stubborn tears. He cleared his throat. You could feel the depth of his turmoil as he struggled to find the right words to express the torment that had been eating away at him. Finally, after a moment of silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of the evening breeze, Dick spoke again, "I... I can't shake off what Slade has done. It's like a shadow that follows me everywhere, a constant reminder of how terribly I've messed up." His words were laced with raw honesty. "I’m so tired, Y/N," Dick continued, his voice stiff; he was trying to stay strong. "It's like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I don't know how much longer I can bear it alone."

You could sense the depth of his anguish, the self-blame that gnawed at his soul. In that moment, you knew that he needed you more than ever, to be his anchor in the storm of his emotions, "Dick... Whatever you need, I'm here for you." You began, "I'm here for you." You repeated; hoping it would help him, even just briefly. 

"I... I feel that it was my fault that Slade managed to get so far into my head. I failed you, and the team." Dick said quietly, looking over at the city. 

Your eyes widened as you shook your head, placing your hand on his upper arm, "No, D, none of this was your fault." You insisted, "None of it. None of it was on you." You squeezed his arm tightly in reassurance, and he looked back at you, his gaze intense, making you realize that you still had your hand on his arm. Reluctantly, you let go of him but gasped lightly when Dick suddenly grabbed your hand. He continued to surprise you as he reached up with his free hand and removed his mask. Finally, you finally got to look into Dick Grayson's blue eyes. They were filled with pain, sorrow, and regret. Yet, underneath that pain, there was also determination, bravery; an emotion you were all too familiar with, though you had never seen such clear emotion from Dick Grayson. Your grip tightened on his hand as he stared at you, searching your face. You continued, "I know what you've gone through was incredibly traumatizing, something no one should ever have to go through..." You tried to blink your own tears away, but you ultimately failed; one trailed down your cheek. "But, you are so strong... So brave... It's amazing how determined and fearless you are." You cleared your throat, your face becoming hot as you glanced away briefly, "I know one thing for sure, you have this incredible capacity to pull yourself together and face whatever challenges the world throws at you. It's honestly inspiring..." You looked back up at him, giving him a small smile, "And I know that you can get through this too."

Dick let out an almost shaky breath, looking down at his hand in yours, his eyes burning from said tears and his cheeks warm with blush. His heart raced as he tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. "Y/N, thank you." He whispered softly, looking back at you.

"Anytime, D." You replied, giving his hand a soft squeeze, your free hand reaching up to brush away the stubborn stray tear that began to slip down his cheek. Neither of you moved, not wanting to break this wonderful moment between you two. The sky grew darker, the sunset slowly disappearing behind a blanket of purple clouds, leaving a brilliant swath of stars scattered across its velvet expanse.

Dick could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest growing tight. The warmth of your touch made it difficult to breathe. The desire to hold onto you, to keep you close to his side, and never let go was overwhelming. It was hard to look away from you now, despite the darkness surrounding you both. You were handsome at that moment - but you always were - your features illuminated by the soft moonlight. He gazed at you intently, his fingers gently stroking the skin of the back of your hand. A shiver ran down his spine, and goosebumps formed on his arms. The urge to lean forward and kiss you hit him like a freight train. This was new territory; a wave of uncertainty and nervousness went through him… The intensity of your gaze and the way your thumb brushed over your hand sent him reeling.

"It's getting late," He heard himself say, and you found yourself nodding.

"Yeah... Dinner might be getting cold." You both slowly broke away, his hand slipping from yours.

Dick looked overwhelmingly nervous as he pulled the collar of his superhero suit, "The rest of the team might be wondering where we are..."

"Yeah..." You answered, not really knowing what else to say as he turned and began to walk away, but at his pause, you watched as he quickly turned around and walked back to you. Before you knew it, he closed the distance between the two of you, his hand reaching to cup your face. And before you could say 'Titans go,' Dick leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was brief but sweet, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers racing through your body and igniting every nerve ending. When he drew back, his face was flushed and his expression radiant. His eyes shone with an unreadable expression, but he smiled as he looked at you; as usual, there was this understanding between the two of you.

"Room temperature pizza?" He asked with a smirk, holding out a hand to you.

You grinned, taking his offered hand, "Room temperature pizza." You echoed with a laugh, matching his grin with your own.

---

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[originalcrime]

23 and 36 for bucktommy? ❤️

Anon no idea if you’re even checking my blog anymore but I am so sorry this fill took so long! If you do happen to see this, I appreciate your patience. Hope you enjoy Bucktommy + wearing someone’s clothes + being pushed against a wall

His Evan

“Where’s my—oh, crap.” Evan said.

Tommy poked his head out of the en-suite. Evan was pacing up and down the foot of the bed, in his slacks and a crisp white dress shirt that he’d only buttoned up halfway. The contents of his suitcase were strewn across the hotel bedspread, like a tornado had blown through in the few minutes Tommy had been showering.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

Evan looked over at him miserably. “My tie,” he said. “I forgot to pack a tie.”

Tommy choked down a small laugh. Only his Evan. “We flew out for a wedding and you forgot to pack a tie?”

“I had them all out,” Evan groaned. “I was trying to decide which one and I know that I decided on the green one but I must’ve never actually packed it. God, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Tommy said automatically. He stopped himself just before going in for a hug—he was still a little damp from his shower and Evan’s shirt was pressed so nicely. Instead, he clasped Evan’s hands. Being reminded of their difference in hand size always seemed to pull a string out of Evan and make him a little looser. “It’s a mistake anyone could have made.”

“But we have to leave for the wedding in fifteen minutes!” Evan protested. “There’s not enough time to find a menswear store around here for a replacement, let alone a Target or something.”

“We don’t need a menswear store,” Tommy said. “I always pack a spare.”

“Oh,” Evan said, panic visibly deflating. “That’s handy.”

“I know,” Tommy winked, and turned to dig it out of his suitcase, which had escaped Hurricane Evan and was still entirely packed.

The spare he’d packed for this trip was a nice, simple pale blue dotted with subtle white dots that added just the right amount of texture. Tommy had bought it after an ex told him light blue brought out his eyes, but come to think of it, the same shade would bring out Evan’s eyes as well.

“Here,” he said. “This will look perfect on you. Do you need me to tie it?”

Evan blinked at him but didn’t respond, and didn’t reach out for the tie.

“Evan?” Tommy questioned.

“Um, I mean, I could tie it myself,” Evan stuttered out. “But if you didn’t mind–um, that would be fine.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Give me a second to get myself dressed.”

Once Tommy was suited up, he turned back to Evan, who was holding the tie up in front of himself in the mirror, and blushing a brilliant pink at the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears.

“It’s going to look so good on you, baby,” Tommy said. “Come here.”

He deftly knotted the tie around Evan’s neck while his boyfriend stood there, barely breathing. It was good to know that this was really doing it for both of them.

Tommy stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Look at you,” he said. “Looking so pretty, wearing my tie. It’s cause you’re mine. And everyone at the wedding is going to know that.”

Evan’s chest rose raggedly. Tommy had been right–the light blue brought out his large, round eyes perfectly.

They still had five minutes before they needed to leave for the venue. Screw it. Tommy grabbed Evan by the tie and manhandled him up against the wall, leaning in to capture his mouth with a bruising kiss. If it rumpled Evan’s shirt a little, that was okay. He’d be wearing a jacket, and he wouldn’t even get the chance to take it off at the reception. As soon as Tommy had the chance to congratulate the groom and say hello to his friends in the wedding party, they’d be coming back here so Tommy could strip his Evan down.

Maybe he’d leave the tie on. Just as a reminder of who Evan belonged to.

[secondarysefikura]

Sephiroth wins but instead of just turning Cloud into his devoted puppet, he decides to simply wait it out and let time take away the memories of Cloud’s loved ones and his reasons to hate Sephiroth instead of Sephiroth taking them away himself. After all they have all of eternity together.

And it works.

Eons later and Cloud’s memories of his friends are fading and he’s even misremembering things about them. A woman who owned a restaurant, a man with a hook for a hand, a tiger that was missing an ear, a teen who at one point stole their weapons, a mouse who rode on some blob thing, a man who was found sleeping in an abandoned cemetery, a man wanted to explore the ocean, a woman who for some reason gave him a flower, and a man who called him something as he was dying.

And eventually memories of Nibelheim, and what Sephiroth did to it and his friends fade away, to the point where Cloud questions why he even hates Sephiroth. What was it that the only person he has left do to make him hate him for so long? It can’t be that big of a deal if he’s now forgotten it….right?

And after many eons Cloud finds himself happy in Sephiroth’s embrace, and soon forgets the many, many times when he used to hate being in the god’s loving arms.

Oh. My. God. YES. Anon, you are brilliant.

I think it would be so good too if, as Cloud started to realize that he was struggling to remember his friends, he took to writing down everything he could remember about them. Of course Sephiroth secretly gets rid of the notes in order to ensure that Cloud doesn't have anything to remind him of before, but he isn't able to find them all.

One day, long after Cloud has forgotten everything but Sephiroth's embrace, he finds a set of his notes. He reads them over several times, but none of it seems to make sense. These notes seem to suggest that these people didn't like Sephiroth--that he didn't like Sephiroth. He finds crude sketches of men and women he can't remember, of a village that he doesn't know anymore, and a version of Sephiroth that just looks...wrong. He stresses about the meaning for a while, but ultimately he takes the notes to Sephiroth and asks what they mean. Sephiroth is his god after all, so if anyone would know what all these weird messages and drawings are about, it would be him. If nothing else, Sephiroth's calm and collected manner should soothe the worry that is creeping into every part of him.

Sephiroth reassures him that the notes are nothing more than the ramblings of a madman, although Cloud can't deny the brief flash of rage that crossed Sephiroth's face when he saw the notes was scarily similar to the drawings of Sephiroth that he found. Maybe there was a reason he vaguely remembers hating Sephiroth once.....

[hothothotch]

Heeey ! I have a Hotch request 😄

Context: she’s one of his first case, some young girl who hacked the Pentagone to make a point to a teacher that you don’t have to be good in class to be a genius in something. They try to arrest her but she didn’t did anything just enter their server and disconnect. But all the way into interrogation she flirts with him. They let her go and he sees her a couple years later?

I don’t know how to end this, but yeah just a thing I got in my head for a while 🥹

hey! i loved writing this one and, again, i want a part two of it, so maybe you should expect one haha. i hope you like it, anon <3

Requests are open!

1991

"I'll plead the fifth in this one..." you smirked up at Agent Hotchner, batting your eyes seductively — or as seductively as you believed you could be — as you observed him through your eyelashes, "And I'm very good at pleading, just so you know".

Aaron didn't react visibly, even though the urge to roll his eyes was definitely there. After a few minutes of interrogation (probably ten, but he wasn't sure, since you were a delight to hear — ironically speaking), Aaron had lost count of how many flirtatious comments you had thrown at him, the situation way more annoying considering that his boss, SSA Gideon, was sitting by his side, observing everything with as neutral as an expression he could have, clearly as unamused as Aaron.

"Oh, come on!" you groaned, clearly unpleased with Aaron's lack of response to your flirt, "You can laugh, right? There's nowhere on your contract saying 'FBI Agents have to be stiff and serious, even the hot ones'!".

"I don't usually laugh when interrogating someone" Aaron replied, opening up the file he had in front of him to read your name out loud, "Much less when they invade the Pentagon's system".

You tried to bit back the proud smile that showed up on your face at the acknowledgment of what you've done — you highly doubted one of those Agents would clap their hands at your achievement, and still you'd rather face them than your parents, that were probably fuming on their way to the Bureau.

If SSA Hotchner and Gideon's faces were the last things you'd see for the rest of your life (that probably wouldn't be as long as you once thought it would), you might as well fall in style.

"That was impressive, wasn't it?" you asked, your voice clearly smug as you leaned against your chair, "I'm really good at that!".

"Not that much" SSA Gideon intervened, "I can name a few hackers that can do the same".

You raised one brow in defiance, trying to mask the way his words had evidently hurt your ego, "I didn't say I'm unique, I said I'm impressive. There's a difference" you pointed in a matter-of-factly way, before turning back at Agent Hotchner, "From now on, I'm only answering your questions, pretty boy".

"It's Agent Hotchner".

You chuckled, "Okay" you nodded curtly, "Pretty Agent Hotchner boy".

That time you saw the way he reacted, his body language denouncing you was starting to frustrate him. If you didn't know it was overstepping — more than you've already overstepped — you probably would make a joke about how you could help him with his frustration, but you weren't really into going to jail over harassment.

Trying to exhaust his patience was one thing. Crossing the line between amusement and crime was something you didn't want to do.

Oh, yeah. You had hacked into the Pentagon.

"Okay, look..." you started, straightening your pose on your chair, grimacing when the metal of the cuffs (an unnecessary accessory, if you will) skimmed on your skin, a clear indicative that you'd soon have a new bruise at that spot, "I've hacked into the Pentagon, true" she directed a pointed look at Gideon, rolling her eyes, "Yes, I'm aware there are a lot of other hackers that can pull that out, but I had a point to make!".

"Which was?" Aaron questioned, his eyes still trained on you. With a quick look to his hand, you noticed he was wearing a wedding band — golden, brilliant; he was probably freshly married. You questioned if he looked at his wife in that intimidating way, or if it was reserved to people like you, or that he judged to be like you.

You took a deep breath, leaning against your chair, "I'm graduating on MIT" you started explaining, even if you knew they could find that information on your file, and that they probably already knew that, considering you'd been smart enough to hack into the Pentagon from your college's computer, but not enough to hide your tracks, "And I was unlucky enough not to get good grades at this specific subject, and my teacher made a point to humiliate me in front of everyone. So I made a point in showing her that while she's theoretically smart, I'm technically smart".

The single raise of Agent Hotchner's brow was enough to reveal what he was thinking about you after your explanation — that you were a spoiled child, that you couldn't have things any other way except for yours, that he could have you arrested solely by how bad your reasoning had been.

"Yeah, pretty Agent Hotchner boy..." you crossed your arms in front of your body, "Not everyone is born with everything on a silver plate, y'know? My attention is not as good as it was supposed to be".

Aaron switched a quick glance with Gideon, his demeanor betraying nothing as they kept their eyes locked for a few minutes, expectation suddenly building on your body along with the urge to pick at your nails, an anxious behavior you had.

"Let her go" Agent Gideon finally said, standing up from his chair, turning his back on you both to walk out of the interrogation room.

"What?" you squealed in confusion, placing the palms of your hands on top of the metallic desk you had between Agent Hotchner and you, "That's all?".

Aaron hummed in agreement, standing up to grab the cuff keys' in his pockets, his hands brushing with yours for a second, and you could swear there was a sudden electricity on that touch, causing you to push your hand away.

He looked up at you with one brow raised again, his voice a bit more humored now, "What? You want to be arrested?".

"You arrested me, pretty Agent Hotchner boy" you reminded, shaking your cuffed hands, "And while I think being cuffed is sexy, I can't wait to remove those. They're hurting my pulse".

"You should've told us, we'd lose it a bit" he shrugged, opening the lock expertly, before sitting on the desk, "You only logged into the system and turned it off. We can't arrest you for turning the computers off, so you're free to go".

You faced him for a while more, trying to find something to say, maybe a snarky remark — a joke? But nothing came to mind. So you only nodded, standing up from the chair with a smile.

"So off I go" you told him, massaging your pulses, "Guess we won't see each other again, pretty Agent Hotchner boy".

Aaron shook his head, crossing his arms, "I hope not".

"Ouch" you put your hand over your chest dramatically, "You wound me, honey. Hope you don't miss me too much".

Aaron finally allowed himself to roll his eyes, standing up from the desk to walk toward the door, "It won't be a problem".

...

2011

You were honestly — and positively — surprised when the message arrived in your inbox, the (a rather last minute) white invitation warming your heart in a way you didn't think it would.

JJ and Will were getting married.

It was a surprise not because you thought you wouldn't be invited, but because you didn't think it would happen at all; the last time you and JJ talked (only a year prior to that date), the woman had been pretty straightforward about not being ready to get married, even if Will clearly was. You were surprised to know that he supported her and it wasn't an issue, even though JJ sometimes complained about how they ended up fighting over the topic.

You were happy they finally got to an agreement. And even happier that their agreement gave her an excuse to leave her house, even for only a few hours.

"You look beautiful!" you stated once you spotted JJ on the dancefloor, bringing her for a hug when she finally recognized you.

"I can't believe you're here!" JJ held you against her body happily, and you could feel her smile on your shoulder as she rocked you from side to side, "I thought you were in Paris!".

You nodded when she pulled back, allowing you to move and embrace Will, that had a similar smile on his face, "I was. But the Pentagon called me back and I was forced to come back. Which is a loss, because I was starting to get used with the accent. And the paycheck".

Will shook his head, laughing at your last comment, "I'm sure Interpol will be missing a great Agent".

"That they will" you nodded eagerly, playfully throwing your hair over your shoulder, "I was their jewel, and now they have nothing. But I'm happy to be back home. Will be even happier when I find a good house for me, since I've sold my old house".

"Oh, that's your lucky day!" JJ commented, immediately taking your hand in hers, already guiding you through the dancefloor to a table where a few people were gathered, laughing at something one of them had said, "My friends' neighbor just passed away, and their old apartment is vacant. Maybe you can rent it".

You smiled, ready to give JJ an answer when you looked at the table again, your eyes widening at the sight of one man in the middle of the group. You froze in your place when you recognized him, your jaw slightly dropped when your eyes met, recognition clearly passing through his eyes as well.

You heard JJ saying your name, and you were fairly aware that she was introducing you to the group, though the only name you managed to hear was, "This is Aaron Hotchner, my boss, and friend".

Boss. It was curious — last time you've seen Agent Hotchner (or pretty Agent Hotchner boy, as you once called him), he was an Agent working under Jason Gideon's supervision.

Ten years had gone by, though. A lot had changed. You, to begin with.

"Oh, huh... hi!" you waved at the group, trying to pretend you had gathered any of their names, "JJ was telling me that one of you had a neighbor who had passed and may have an apartment free for me?".

Aaron — who seemed to be on a trance just as you'd been in the past few seconds — cleared his throat at your question, trying to brush away the embarrassment of how you kept looking at each other. If someone in his group noticed, though, none of them made a comment about it.

"That would be me" he stated, and you held the urge to mutter an 'of course that is', "Maybe we can talk—".

"On the dancefloor" the old man beside him suggested, nudging Aaron slightly with a mischievous smirk on his lips as he took a sip of his drink (whiskey, you deduced), "Do you like to dance?".

"Very much" you nodded, directing your response at the man who asked the question, but your eyes were focused on Aaron, "That's one of my technical skills".

If there was any doubt to Aaron that you remembered him, this doubt fade away at that exact moment — and you noticed it by the way his body language immediately changed, going from an almost nervous one to a more relaxed one.

"I guess you can show me, then" Aaron offered his hand to you, a smile appearing on his face when you immediately accepted it, guiding you back to the dancefloor, "Let's just try and not be arrested tonight, okay?".

You snorted, patting on his shoulder when the song turned into a slower one, and your eyes met one more time before you replied, "I won't make any promises".

Thank you for your request ✨

[debonairprincesposts]

You answered my question perfectly and I'll be sure to request more Lucifer in the future (love our short king). But this time I'd like to request Charlie x reader angst if that's okay (totally not inspired by your last request 😅 and sorry it's a bit long).

Reader planning an evening out for their 1 year anniversary (with help and ideas from Lucifer), based on when she's supposed to be back. It's not until later on in the evening the reader finds out she's forgotten/changed her mind and gone for an evening out with Vaggie instead. Reader leaves a crumbled note on top of a bouquet of flowers and a new dress/suit they had brought just for her and that evening. Note is your typical breaking up and leaving, with the reader leaving the hotel to try and not be found and blocking her number.

Omg anon! I have no idea where you keep getting these ideas from! They’re absolutely *Chef's kiss*

I also just love how the reader and Lucifer are basically just bonding over Charlie. And I don't mind how long your messages are! I just love reading you guys' thoughts.

Anyway! Here is the angst you requested! Hope you like it :)

Enjoy (。•̀ᴗ-)✧

Forgotten

Charlie x Reader

You were filled with anticipation for today, a mix of excitement and nervousness. After all, it's your and Charlie's one-year anniversary! Your desire is to ensure that the day is flawlessly wonderful! You plan on buying her a gift and giving it to her during dinner.

One small issue tho-

You have no idea what to get her.

Maybe you could ask someone? Someone who's known Charlie for a very long time. Someone like maybe-

Lucifer!

Surely he'd know! He is her father after all. Surely he wouldn’t mind you calling about a matter such as this, right?

In slight anxiety, you pick up your phone to dial in Lucifer’s number. He gave it to you once Charlie revealed you two’s relationship to him. Saying to call him should you need anything cuz you are his ‘future Child-in-law’. You just hope he’s free enough to answer his phone.

He picks up on the third ring, “Hey kid! How are you doing these days?”

“Hello sir! I just uhm- kinda need your help with something.”

“Of course! Whatever you need, dear! What’s up?”

“Sooo- today is Charlie and I’s 1 year anniversary and I don’t know what to get her. I plan on buying her a gift and taking her out for dinner, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to get her. Do you perhaps have any ideas?”

Lucifer let out a gasp, “Totally! Maybe you can buy her new suit? She loves those.”

That’s brilliant! How come you didn’t think of that before!

“That’s a marvelous idea, sir! Thank you for your help!”

“Always happy to help, dear! Have fun with your anniversary!”

You both bid each other goodbye and hang up.

Okay! Time to go shopping!

You spent three hours trying to find the perfect suit. And it was absolutely beautiful. It should fit Charlie like a glove. She’ll absolutely love it. Now! All that needs to be done is give her this suit to wear and take her out for dinner! You try to give her call, but it went straight to voicemail mail. Worry fills your heart. It’s getting closer and closer to the time of the reservation and she’s still out of sight.

It’s getting pretty late, you’ll miss your reservation if you don’t leave now.

You go down to the lobby, maybe someone knows where she is. You see Husk and Angel Dust at the bar. Maybe they know.

“Hey guys! Have you seen Charlie? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

“Haven’t seen her either, toots. Why? You need her for something?” Angel Dust turns to you as soon as you get closer.

“I’m taking her out for dinner, but she won’t return any of my calls.”

“She’s been out with Vaggie since this morning. Hasn’t been back since.” Says Husk before taking a swig of his bottle.

“I-I see. Thank you.”

Husk and Angel shoot either other a worried glance as you left. You were a pretty good friend to them. They didn’t like seeing you upset. But they figured it’s best they give you some space.

Another hour passed. You had completely missed your reservation. Being by yourself for a bit gave you time to reflect on your time with Charlie. It made you realize that this wasn’t the first time she’s done this. It always felt like you were a second priority to her. Every time you’d want to spend some time with her, she’d always make excuses about how she already made plans with Vaggie. And you know what? You’re done. If she wants to hang out with Vaggie so bad then you won’t stop her.

In your fit of heartbreak, you write a letter. The letter’s contents are that of a break up. Explaining how you’re done with her. How you’re done with always being second place. How you’re always second priority. You spent three freaking hours picking out a suit for her just for her not to show up.

After finishing up the letter, it being all crumbled from how hard you were gripping it and being stained with your tears, you take the bouquet of flowers you were going to give her and leave it on her bed next to her suit.

This is goodbye.

You start packing your bags. You weren’t going to stay with someone who never cared for you as much as you cared for them. When you’re done, you leave your phone behind. You’ll make sure to buy a new one with a new number and everything.

You exit through the fire escape and never look back.

And just like that, you’re gone.

Another request fulfilled!!! Finally! I was struggling with how I’m supposed to write this, but I think I made a decent piece. Hope you like it anon! Hopefully it’s up to your standards! Sorry it took me so long to write this. Anyway!

Stay healthy and hydrated!

Bye babes! ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

[fleurywiththesave]

OKAY okay lol now see this is so far from the truth BUT i just saw that gif of Matty/Perry Ellis thingy again AND stylist mattdrai au?

oooooh. OOOOOOH, anon. I don't know if you mean Matthew as the stylist or Leon as the stylist, but I can actually see it going either way. Matthew is the intensely enthusiastic rising star who Leon is strong-armed into going to see for some new game day suits, and he wasn't prepared for how peppy Matthew would be. Or how long his eyelashes would be.

OR Leon is the somewhat abrupt and oddly aggressive stylist and tailor who all the best guys use for their NHL Awards duds, and Matthew is convinced to enlist his services because "he'll make you miserable, but he'll make you look great." Only Matthew's not miserable. Other than the fact that Leon seems so determined to make him put clothes on when he really thinks he'd rather be taking them off.

You know what, as long as we're all here.....

Matthew is quite certain that if he had to choose between spending twelve hours getting fitted for a suit or spending twelve hours getting dental surgery, he'd pick dental surgery before Satan had even finished asking the question. But Ekky insists that this guy is the best of the best and that Matthew just needs to put up with whatever he says if he wants to look halfway decent on the red carpet.

He's pretty sure that means that this Leon isn't going to let him wear his slides with a suit.

He almost walks past the storefront, if it even counts as that. It's an unassuming door that must lead into a space behind the specialty foods market that occupies the windows. The narrow hallway just leads to another door, and Matthew has to briefly consider the possibility that Ekky has secretly obtained the rights to his life insurance and is planning to have him murdered before he braces himself and opens it.

"Hello?" he calls. There's a desk, but no one sitting at it, and zero signage to confirm that he's in the right place. "Hello?"

"Matthew." It's not a question. The guy who's just emerged from the back is staring at him. Matthew is staring too, but he has a feeling it's for very different reasons. He's staring because Leon turns out to be no more than thirty, with the best hair Matthew's ever seen and thick-framed black glasses that are kind of making him sweat behind the knees.

Leon is staring with something more like horror, scanning Matthew from head to toe like a robot and apparently not at all happy to see his ripped-neck Panthers shirt, athletic shorts, and the trusty slides. Matthew has a vague idea that perhaps he should apologize. Leon closes his eyes — actually closes his eyes — for a second and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"Okay. It's okay, we have time. Come with me."

The dim hallway and tiny foyer turn out to be misleading, as Leon leads Matthew into a massive room with brilliant lighting and more racks of clothes than he's ever seen in his life. The walls are decorated with pictures of what must be some of Leon's clients, all dressed and styled to the nines. Matthew even spots a photo of Henrik Lundqvist, damn. Maybe he is in the right place.

"Okay," Leon says, coming to a stop by some of the racks and flipping through them with almost disturbing efficiency. "NHL Awards. Rule number one: pick something other than the ass to emphasize. Anyone who's watched a single hockey game has been there, done that."

"Well, what if that's my best feature?" Matthew can't help but ask. Leon glances back at him and snorts.

"No. Rule number two. No. Sneakers. That's for actors trying to fake relatability at the Oscars. You'll wear dress shoes and you'll like it."

Matthew resists the urge to hide his sandals behind the potted plant in the corner.

"What's rule number three?" he asks.

"That depends on how much trouble you give me," Leon answers. "All right, we'll start with these three racks. What jumps out?"

Matthew hasn't been this nervous about giving the wrong answer to a question since his post-draft interviews. He studies the array of suits in front of him and starts to feel a little dizzy from all the choices. He had no idea they could come in so many colors and patterns. Does Brady know about this?

"Well, okay," he finally says, looking at a gray suit that seems like a reasonably safe option. "I kind of like this—"

"No," Leon says flatly before Matthew can even pick up the hanger, and he snatches his hand back like he's been burned. "Single-breasted only."

"Um. Right. Then how about—"

"Absolutely not. Do you want to look washed out?"

"I don't—"

"Try this one," Leon says, pulling a lighter-than-navy blue suit off the rack and shoving it at him. "With the cream shirt."

Matthew stares at the array of white button-downs in front of him. He swears he can hear Leon's soul dying as he sighs and picks one up.

"This. Go."

When Matthew comes back out, trying not to draw attention to his bare feet, Leon slides his glasses down and studies him carefully, even walking in a circle around him several times. Matthew tries to stay still, but it's not so easy when that behind the knees sweating is picking up again and Leon is close enough for Matthew to get a whiff of his cologne, which is somehow earthy and light at the same time.

"Good," Leon finally proclaims. "Look in the mirror, tell me if you like it."

"Oh," Matthew says when he steps in front of the trifold mirror. He wasn't expecting to be surprised — a suit is a suit, right? — but apparently this particular suit is subtly different from any of the ones he owns. He seems tall and strong, despite being end-of-season skinny, and the jacket draws attention to his shoulders, and the color makes his eyes look brighter. "Hey, that's really nice. What about a tie?"

"No tie," Leon says. He's pulled out a tape measure and is flying through the notes he wants to take with the same startling efficiency as before. Matthew barely has a chance to appreciate Leon's hand on his thigh before he's done with the inseam. "Clearly you don't like having something too close to the neck." He smirks at Matthew in the mirror, and Matthew barely manages to bite back a retort about how there are some things he wouldn't mind having too close to his neck. "You can leave the top button open, but that's it."

When Leon is done getting all his measurements, Matthew finds that he's reluctant to leave.

"So, uh, you'll call me when it's done?" he asks.

"Nope," Leon says, tilting his head toward the sewing machine on the side of the room. "Get comfortable, you're going to be here awhile."

Over the next several hours, Matthew discovers that he could be quite happy putting up with pretty much anything Leon says, regardless of whether or not he's going to get a great suit out of it. He learns that Leon started sewing when he was twelve, making things for his sister and her friends; that he finished his studies in Germany a full year early; that he came to New York with the intention of getting some intern experience through Parsons and focusing on women's wear, but one of his father's former players came to Leon asking for help with a suit and the rest is history. Leon, in turn, learns an awful lot — probably more than he was expecting — about the grief Matthew gets from Taryn for his sartorial choices, about Matthew's feelings on the NHL dress code, and about how his style has changed since leaving Calgary for Florida.

Matthew only has to stop himself from making a suggestive remark about what they'd both look like out of a suit a few times, though it doesn't keep him from wondering.

"There," Leon finally says, pressing a garment bag into Matthew's hands. "Please tell me you know that you're supposed to cut the pocket and vent stitching before you wear the suit."

"I'm not a complete dunce," Matthew says indignantly. Leon doesn't have to know that his billet mom had to inform him of that little fashion rule after he'd already been wearing his new juniors suit for two months.

"Just partially," Leon says, but there's no bite behind it. He grins when he walks Matthew to the door, wishes him luck at the awards.

It's hard to walk away.

Two weeks later, when Matthew cuts the tacking stitches on the night of the ceremony, he discovers a slip of paper in his left pocket.

Rule number three: call me after you win.

— Leon

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Just out of curiosity, how many WIPs are you working with right now? And what makes you abandon one? Do you write when the 'inspiration' hits or do you see it as a task to be done? It gets too much for me sometimes, I'm quick to abandon them.

You are such an inspiration though, keep sharing your brilliant mind!!

Not including the Witcher, which I now consider on "hiatus" with the potential of going back when/if the Witcher 4 and new book heal something in me - twenty-five. I have a bunch of prompts with semis (lol) where I have an idea but I haven't started it yet.

I write when inspiration hits and to relax. My job drifts between a 55 and 75 hour week, so I have my fill of tasks to be done. I will never really abandon anything, I'll keep it because sometimes I can repurpose a part of it for another project (like yanking out spare parts from a car for your current one). I'd really recommend doing the same, Non.

The only way I'll abandon something is if I am harassed on it, or the fandom does something that gives me the ick. I have one (1) officially abandoned piece of work on AO3 and it's on Anonymous.

And because you've been so bloody lovely, here's another for Red Leaf 🍁 Anon who asked for a Part 2 (official) of hair pulling Nikpriceghost (rough, unedited).

Simon drew in a shuddering breath and rich cigar smoke flooded his tongue, the warm familiarity of it settling his heart, the calm rolling through his muscles as he closed his eyes. Nik smoked Cohiba. Smooth, rich. Simon couldn't dissect the flavour profile, his palette blunted by cheap roll ups and scorching cups of tea, but he could pick out the familiar notes of coffee beans, cocoa and leather, with just a hint of sweetness at the back of his tongue, as curls of wispy grey drifted by his face. Price said Cohibas were a smooth smoke, with a nice draw. All Simon knew was that he only ever smoked them when Nik was over, and so Simon had come to associate that smell with the roiling desire in his gut as he watched Nik's hands circle a scotch glass.

What had started out as a mild fascination since Nik's fingers had slid into his hair was now an all out infatuation. The series of events that had led to this moment were a cacophony of noise and images fading slowly into the back of his mind. All that mattered was the now. The smell of expensive cigars, the slow, calm breaths of the man before him and the other somewhere in the shadows of his peripheral, and the feel of strong fingers stroking up and down his neck, urging his face close to the warmth of the solid body in front of it. 

Simon knelt at Nik's feet. They had taken his shirt and his pale nipples had peaked in the air conditioning. He could feel it prickle over the hairs on his arms, over the sensitive, bare skin of his face, so unused to being without his balaclava even at the height of summer. And yet, despite being so exposed, Simon felt utterly grounded. Safe. Nik wore a blindfold, unable to see the vacant, soft look on Simon's face as he gazed up at him, the slow way Simon blinked as he focused on Nik's fingers stroking his hairline, tracing the groove at the centre of his neck and the top vertebrae of his spine. 

Simon was desperate for Nik's touch, to feel his hands and body against every inch of his own. He ached, like he would crack open if Nik took his hands away. But showing his face had felt like a step too far in these early days when the connection was still new, untested; his desire like a raw nerve. Nik hadn't even questioned the insanity of Simon being more comfortable showing his dick than his damn face, standing calmly as Price had tied the blindfold behind his head. Simon had worried that it would diminish Nik in some way, make him uncertain, but the big Russian hadn't even broken his bloody stride. He oozed control in the same way he breathed oxygen; natural, unthinking, effortless.

[sgiandubh]

C might mean well, but I find businesses using charity to sell suspicious.

Dear Provocative Anon,

What you say deserves an audio (there have been two of them two weeks ago, compensating for last week's silence). I have many things to tell you and please excuse the delay:

They really can't win, with people like you, can they? And that goes for both C and S, mind you. No matter what they do and try to promote as a side project, there is always going to be someone unhappy and vocal about it. When it's not you complaining 'business using charity to sell' is 'suspicious', there's the other fuckwit asking recently why S hasn't given all MPC's profit to charity, as Paul Newman did with Newman's Own.

So, I will be brutally honest with you, Anon. I have thoughts and questions about your own point of view and this is partially why it took me so long to answer you. It would seem you are not familiar at all with what is called 'corporate social responsibility' (CSR), since at least the Sixties. Which means, in a nutshell, companies who choose to focus part of their activity and dedicate part of their profits to charitable projects. It is done with various degrees of ethics, success and bona fides all around the world, and it is often used as a strong marketing and sales argument.

Think about these people, whose brand is probably immediately recognizable wherever you go, spare perhaps Pyongyang:

I just picked this Coca Cola Foundation recent CSR project in Brazil totally randomly, using Google. Some might think it's just another cynical diversion: one of the world's biggest corporate profiteers, happily contributing to the current obesity pandemic (including in Latin America), suddenly showing one of its biggest markets they do have a conscience, after all, and a social one to boot. And addressing, at the same time, one of the continent's post-colonial bleeding wounds, which is to say, the organic imbalance between rich and poor, as far as access to means of production, land ownership and use and sales opportunities go. 480 farmers benefitting from Coca Cola's magnanimity is probably but a tiny drop of hope in an ocean of dour social injustice, but the truth is, Anon, if nobody does anything good, then nothing good will happen at all. It is as simple as that, and while their modus operandi is probably not exactly my cup of tea, you will have to admit it works, at least to some extent and for some people. Plus it greatly enhances the company's do-good, sensible and reliable global image, because of course, what happens right now in the state of Minas Gerais is but a tiny part of a bigger strategy.

Might I add that even those robber barons, à la Cornelius Vanderbilt or Jay Gould, who made their ruthless fortunes building the railroads of a still very young United States of America, ended up giving a very small part of their same fortune to various charities. It wasn't nearly enough what we would consider as 'reasonable', in 2024, but it did start a philanthropic trend, that took considerable speed after the 1919 Boston Molasses Disaster. The Sixties have just added more pragmatism and gave a name to what was, at its very start, quite an opportunistic endeavor.

Even so, Vanderbilt and Gould themselves did not invent anything, really. One should look to good old Europe to find what is probably the first big CSR project in human history, still going strong since 1521. May I introduce you to the Augsburg Fuggerei:

[for even more pious charity: https://www.fugger.de/en/fuggerei]

Renting one of those wonderful Hansel and Gretel houses for less than one euro/year, plus three daily Hail Mary is something to behold, right? Jakob Fugger the Young, the guy who had this brilliant idea (which, might I add, is still run and operated by the Fugger banker family, even nowadays) was literally a ruthless kingmaker, a colonial trade and exploration pioneer, but also a religious bigot who flatly refused to extend his charity to Protestant families. Still, his pious dream goes on - the Fugger Family Foundation even actively plans its next 500 years. This is Germany, after all 😉.

Those people’s money stinks more of corruption and crime than S or C’s ever could, Anon. Still, they are remembered as benefactors, by many. History is seldom cruel to those who are willing to pay for their posterity.

But you know what, Anon? Compared to the Fuggers and the Vanderbilts and the Goulds, S and C are really small fish in an even smaller, fickler pond. I think they are doing it out of their good heart and I think they are honestly, genuinely responsive to the idea of giving a chance to young, struggling artists. But, in the process, are they also trying to market themselves as more approachable and less controversial, considering the (oh, I shall never tire to repeat this, with gusto) cosmic amount of bullshit plaguing their respective public images? My somewhat cynical answer is also yes, Anon. To which may I immediately add that it's not even important: all that counts are the tangible results of whatever good things they do with their booze and/or fitness profits.

Results and helping trigger a change in one's life is all that really interests me, Anon. It seems to bother you, though, so I will cheekily end this long rant with a couple of questions: do you have a problem with poverty? do you believe in giving people a (second) chance, or do you think only the rich are worth considering and valuable?

If so, I honestly pity you, girl. For the real indigent in all this might be you.

[coloursflyaway]

hi this is ouija board anon ☺️ so glad to hear that my prompt will get two different interpretations! how fun!! feel free to use this ask to answer with the second fic if you’d like 💘 thanks for sharing!!

Hi and thank you so much for reaching out! I'll use this ask now, just so I can keep the original prompt until the other one is written 😊 And thank you so much for sending it in in the first place, I had a lot of fun with it!

“Charles”, Edwin starts, and there is something in his voice, something in between bewilderment and quiet displeasure, but still fond somehow. It’s one of the things that Charles likes about him most, that no matter how annoyed Edwin might get with him, there’s always an undercurrent of affection when he talks to him.

Charles might have had to question most relationships in his life, but he’s never had to question this one. Edwin likes him, has liked him for over ten years now, and Charles has vowed to himself never to take that for granted.

“Yeah, what’s up?”, he asks, sitting up straighter, just in case whatever is bothering Edwin will need more attention than a quip and a smile. It seldom does, especially when they are between cases, but one never knows.

“Why is there a ouija board in our office?” Edwin demands to know, holding the box up like it has personally offended him. It’s kind of cute, in a very Edwin kind of way.

“Oh!” Charles gets up, suddenly excited, because even if Edwin is the clever one between them, he’s actually proud of this one. “Isn’t that mint? I picked it up in one of the shops around the corner – and yes, I did leave some money behind, don’t worry – because I thought it might come in handy in future cases. You know, we could talk to someone who’s alive with it?”

“Why would you want to talk to someone who is alive?”, Edwin asks, prim in a way that means he hates the words coming out of his mouth, and usually, Charles can read him like an open book, but there is something strange about him now. A bit frantic, maybe, a bit unmoored.

“They might have something interesting to say?”, Charles offers, confused, and gets up so he can walk over to Edwin, pluck the ouija board from his hand. “See, they have this little planchette thing, we could move that around to ask a question-“

“But why would you want to ask a living person anything in the first place?” There is something slightly shrill tinting Edwin’s voice, and Charles wants nothing more than to soothe it, even if he doesn’t know how to.

“To find out if they know something for a case?”, he tries, but it’s obviously not the right thing to say, because Edwin’s thick brows knit together, his lips thin from how tight they are pressed. Charles frantically rifles through explanations in his head, because there has to be one, but he’s coming up short.

“But are we not the Dead Boy Detectives?”, Edwin challenges, and the shrillness is still in his tone, masking something else, something Charles has the feeling might hurt.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles agrees, and looks down at the ouija board for a second. It’s nothing special, just pressed wood and paint, nothing that should upset the most brilliant boy in the world like this. “What’s really going on, Eds? It’s just a toy, and if you hate it so much, it’s not like we have to use it or anything.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that”, Edwin starts, but there is no actual heat behind it, and now that is proper worrying. “It’s just…”

His voice trails off and he deflates; Charles has to force himself not to rush in and gather Edwin up in his arms, hold him close.

“…you have, in the past few weeks, occasionally referred to the fact that you miss aspects of living”, Edwin eventually says, after far too much time, soft and almost defeated, still saying the last word like it has personally offended him. “I was wondering if the acquisition of this… thing is part of that general displeasure with being dead.”

General displeasure with being dead is what he says, but when Edwin looks up at him, that’s not what is written on his face, and suddenly, Charles can read him again, as clearly as if Edwin had spelt his thoughts out to him, letter by letter.

“Edwin”, he answers, as softly, as warmly as he can, and there is so much worry, so much hope in Edwin’s eyes that Charles’ chest aches with it, both with affection and the pain of Edwin having to be hopeful in the first place. “There’s nothing about being dead with you that I would want to change.”

And it takes a moment, but then a smile blossoms on Edwin’s lips, and Charles needs to bite his own to stop himself from thanking every deity that might want to answer for it, for Edwin believing him.

“Truly?”, Edwin asks still, but there is no hope left in his voice, because it is not necessary anymore, just a need for reassurance. There is nothing Charles would rather offer.

“Absolutely”, he responds and the word comes easy as breathing, as easy as a heartbeat would for a living person, a breath.

And Edwin nods, looking brave and calmer and happy, and when the affection Charles feels for him threatens to overwhelm him this time, he just gives into it, pulls Edwin close and against his chest and holds him tight.

And this time, unlike most others, Edwin goes willingly.