#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.

[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.

[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.

[eddiespornstache]

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.....

[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

[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 」∠)

[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.

[thelov3lybookworm]

lucien x reader jealousyyyy,, imagine reader makes a pact with azriel to help him get elain and azriel helps reader get lucien. They use eachother to make elain and lucien jealous and it works. reader and az shamelessly flirt with eachother around luc and elain. Lucien snaps on day when he sees reader and az kissing nc the mating bond snaps for him. 👀👀 a lotta smut plsss

For ever and ever.

Summary: Lucien gets a little... possessive.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: i had so much fun writing this anon, and i love you so much for sending this in ♥ also, i feel like i got a lil poetic with this one lol 😂

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n peeked from around the door, wondering where the hell Lucien was and why he was taking so long to arrive. He was supposed to have arrived already.

She had told him to be present before the sun began setting so she could show him the new restaurant she had found. He had agreed, just like all the times before. She would ask him to meet her in a specific place, and he would meet her. No questions asked. They would then go on to explore Velaris and little picnics and what not.

Y/n knew Lucien loved to do these little outings with her. If he didn't, he would have told her ages ago.

But everytime Y/n thought he would do something to take their relationship further, become something, anything more than friends, he would turn away.

It was like taking one step forward, three steps back.

This had been going around for months now, this dance between the two of them. And he had seemed not at all interested in ending this dance.

So Y/n had to take her own steps forward before he could leave the dance midway.

And Azriel had seemed like the perfect musician to guide this dance between Y/n and Lucien to its happy end.

Of course, Y/n felt like she was using him, and her heart was happily opening the gates for guilt to come sweeping in, but she knew she had all the rights to banish the guilt from the sprawling manor of her consciousness.

Especially when he was a consenting adult in this ruse, one who had a good head on his shoulder- most of the time- and was getting something out of it.

The two of the would flirt like their lives depended on it around Lucien and Elain, and Y/n could see Lucien holding back a snarl, a roar, could see his frustration when she got a little too touchy with Azriel. Azriel, of course, went along with the act, at times even making Y/n question if he really was acting.

A door opened somewhere in the house, and then Azriel was whisper yelling for Y/n to hurry up.

And that meant it was either Lucien or Elain. Probably both.

She hurried over to him, and he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her onto the counter. and before she could have second thoughts about about this brilliant plan of hers, his mouth descended.

His lips were soft, and he was a good kisser, but Y/n imagined he was nowhere near Lucien-

There were soft voices coming from the hallway beyond the door, becoming louder and louder by the moment.

Azriel leaned into Y/n, deepening the kiss like that was his sole purpose in life until there was no sound except the blood roaring in Y/n's ears.

There was so much silence, for a moment Y/n wondered if she'd gone deaf.

Then suddenly, Y/n felt as if she'd been dropped into a pit of fire. The temperature became unbearable, and as quickly as Azriel had begun kissing her, he was ripped away, leaving Y/n gasping.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at the broad back that belonged to Lucien, his hair shining brighter than ever, the red rivaling that of the hottest of fires. He trembled with anger, and it was a miracle there was no steam coming out of his ears.

Y/n glanced around for a moment, trying to see if Azriel had gotten hurt. She found herself looking at a teary eyed Elain, who stared at something- someone- on the ground in front of Lucien, who still had his back turned to Y/n.

"What are you doing?" Azriel rasped, and Y/n finally got a glimpse of him. He was sitting on the ground, hid hands braced behind him to hold himself in an upright position, his mouth gaping.

Shit.

Lucien said nothing, standing still.

The situation was escalating too fast, and Y/n wondered if she'd taken it too far.

She put a hand on Lucien's shoulder, and that seemed to break him out of his trance. He whipped his head around to look at Y/n, fire in his eyes, his skin slightly aglow. It was not the glow of happiness.

It was the glow of murderous rage.

He slowly twisted his head back to look at Azriel as his hands came to rest on Y/n's hips. Despite the severity of the situation, the traitorous butterflies in Y/n's stomach took flight.

"Do not ever think about touching her. Keep your hands to yourself if you don't want to lose them."

Y/n simply stared at the autumn court male, her heart beating in her throat. Not because she was scared, but because she needed him to push her heart back into her chest with his tongue-

No. Not now. Not good timing for such thoughts. She chided herself.

Lucien turned then, sliding his arms around Y/n, and then simply winnowing away.

•○🌑○•

It shouldn't have been possible. Winnowing shouldn't have been possible due to the numerous spells put around the river house, but when Y/n opened her eyes, she knew that Lucien had somehow made it possible.

Because she was sitting on an entirely different counter, in an entirely different kitchen from the one she had just been in.

She stared at the fuming male in front of her, and he stared back.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Y/n found her voice. "How- how did you do that?"

That made his brows furrow. "Do what?"

"You winnowed us. You shouldn't have been able to."

"Oh." A smirk that bordered on cruel curled his mouth. "You forget I am the spell cleavers son."

Y/n blinked. "What... what do you mean?"

His smirk faded away. "You don't know?"

She shook her head, the new revelation leaving her reeling.

His face hardened. "So they didn't tell you as well, huh?"

Then he told her about how the inner circle had hidden from his his true lineage, how they had voted and then decided to leave him in the dark. How he had only recently found out through his mother after Beron's death, and how he had confronted the first member of inner circle he came face to face with.

It had been Elain, and she caved within moments of him beginning to question her. She claimed they would have told him eventually, but she didn't want to break the inner circle's trust by telling him the truth.

"I was pissed, and seeing you with him- kissing him, it only increased my fury."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Y/n couldn't help but feel glee.

"Why did you get angrier? Were you jealous, Lucien?"

He blushed, just a little. He made to move away, but Y/n's hand shot out, curling into his shirt. She grinned at him as she tugged him closer, and that made his eyes drop to her lips.

He looked back up into her eyes, searching for something.

She dipped her chin in a nod, and then there was no stopping Lucien.

His lips crashed into hers, and all air fled Y/n's lungs.

The air was kicked out because the space was needed for the golden string that made itself know in that moment.

She gasped, and he used the action to deepen the kiss, his hands holding onto her hips with bruising intensity. She was glad.

He didn't stop until it was practically impossible to go any longer without breathing. Truly unfortunate, and it had Y/n cursing her lungs because they couldn't hold in more air.

Lucien panted, staring at her as a feral grin crawled onto his face, his delight evident in his eyes.

"You are mine." The words were breathless, barely a whisper. They sounded like a question. Cocky, but there was a tone of uncertainty under all the arrogance.

Like he was trying to make sure she had no problem in being his.

"I am yours."

"For ever. You are mine for as long as we live."

She smiled gently, wrapping her arm around his neck and tugging his mouth back to hers.

"For ever and ever, I'm yours."

•○🌑○•

General taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

[iamnotoriginalphil]

I love you sm for writing for Kate Stewart. So brilliant!! I was wondering if you could possibly write like a reunion fic? Where Kate was away on a mission and it turned really bad , a little angsty maybe with a happy ending? Xx

Aw, thank you! I hope you like this one, Anon.

When you got the call from Mel that you should come into HQ, your mind had immediately gone to worst case scenario. Kate had been gone for few nights now, out on a mission that she’d assured you would be nothing but routine. The house was too quiet without her, the bed too big and cold, but you’d known what you were signing up for when it came to Kate. She’d made it clear. And if you felt a pang of anxiety any time she had to go away on missions, then you kept that to yourself to never burden her. She’d told you about the job, it wasn’t right that you should complain about the danger she faces if she never did. 

So when the call came in from Mel, you rushed over to HQ, expecting the worst. 

Flashes of images kept going through your head on the entire car ride over. Kate, hurt. Kate, bleeding and bruised. Kate, missing. Kate, dead.

You moaned at that last one, doing your best to push it away. If you thought about it too much you’d begin to hyperventilate and then you’d have to pull over which would just make it take longer to get there and know what had happened. You needed to know, cursing Mel for not saying more on the phone. 

Stumbling over your own feet, you rushed through the front doors, almost falling into Mel’s arms. Her arm curled around your shoulders, holding you tight, and only then did you realise you were trembling. 

“What happened?” you asked her, tripping over your words, “is she okay? What’s going on?”

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” she said rather than answering your questions.

“Mel, please,” you pleaded, “I need to know.”

“A situation has developed on the mission. It’s… you’ll see.”

She swept you into the lift. It moved too slowly, your need to see Kate, to hold her, to check her over and make sure she was okay turning you into a jittery mess. You would have sprinted there if you could have, just to see her sooner. 

The doors slid open on the command centre. Heads turned towards you as you walked beside Mel towards Kate’s desk. On the screen, projected for all to see, was the image of a person in full tactical armour, helmet in place, pointing a gun at Kate. 

Your knees turned to jelly and for a moment you couldn’t feel your fingers. You stared up at it, not quite comprehending what you were seeing.

“Where’s Ibrahim?” you asked.

“From what we can gather, he was incapacitated and Kate was taken after an altercation. It appears as if she’s now in negotiations, but we’re unclear if they realise she’s still transmitting visuals to us,” Mel said from beside you.

You lowered yourself into Kate’s chair, staring up at the screen. You pressed your hands between your knees, squeezing until it hurt. 

“No sound?” you asked.

“We lost it during the altercation,” she said.

You watched, flinching every time the gun swung towards Kate. She stared back at the person, calm with her hands raised by her shoulder, mouth moving as she said something. You wanted to hear her voice. If you could, then you’d know how she really felt, what was going through her head, if she was scared. 

As it was, the set of her chin had your heart clenching.

You couldn’t look away from the screen. Even blinking felt as if you were going to miss something crucial. Like a shot going off. If she was shot and you missed it you’d never forgive yourself. Some sick sadistic part of you wanted to suffer through it with her just so she wouldn’t be alone. Even if she didn’t know as she had no idea you were watching.

“Look, look,” Mel said, pointing at the screen.

You didn’t bother snapping that you were, instead shifting your gaze. Something over the shoulder of the armoured person shifted in the shadows, drawing closer. Kate’s lips kept moving, keeping the focus on her. You held your breath.

Ibrahim sprung forward. There was a flash on the screen. In the moment before it went dark, Ibrahim tussled with the armoured person. Heart in your throat, you were on your feet, staring at the dark screen. 

“Get it back,” you said.

“We can’t,” someone said.

“Get it back,” you shouted.

“That shot took out the camera. We have no visual feed anymore,” Mel said, her arm curling around you, pulling you into her body in what you were sure she thought was a comforting hug. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the black screen. You stood there long enough for Mel to leave you alone and the others to begin talking about extraction around you. Eventually Rose manoeuvred you back to Kate’s desk, sitting you as you stared up at it.

“She’s not dead, right?” you whispered.

“I’m sure she’s fine. You know Kate. Nothing can stop her,” she replied.

You nodded but it didn’t make you feel any better. 

“We’ve got them,” someone shouted from the back of the room.

You rose on unsteady legs, a fragile hope building in your chest. 

“They’re inbound,” someone else said.

And then you were waiting on tenterhooks, staring at the helipad doors. You were tense, a live wire as you waited, unable to relax until you saw her in person. Until you could have her in your arms, you wouldn’t be able to calm down. Your heart would race, would beat hard enough to leave bruises on unseen skin, would strangle itself until it felt the soothing tempo of Kate’s reverberating through your ribcage.

The doors opened, sunlight spilling in and it was like a signal in your brain. You walked towards that portal to the outside world, holding your breath as you listened to the helicopter. Mel’s hand on your shoulder held you in place as you broke out into the sunlight, the cool air of the day brushing your exposed skin, hurting when you breathed it in.

And then Kate was there, climbing down onto the helipad, saying something to Ibrahim, seemingly unharmed. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Her gaze swept over her welcoming committee before pausing and turning back to you.

Mel’s hand meant nothing after that.

You were racing across the concrete, flinging yourself into her arms. She caught you, stumbling back a step from the force of your body crashing into hers. Your arms were around her neck and hers was cradling the back of your head, holding you close. Your face was buried against her neck, nose brushing her skin, breathing her in.

“Darling,” she sighed, pressing you closer, “what are you doing here?”

“Mel called,” you said, muffled from where your face was pressed against her. 

She held you tighter and for just a moment you felt her tremble in your arms. Then, she straightened up and you let her step away, facing her people as she straightened jacket. You took a half step away, turning away to brush the tears off your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed them falling. 

“I have to give a debrief,” she said to you once she was done, her arm around your waist, shuffling you closer to the doors. 

“Okay,” you said.

“Wait for me in my office. I’ll try to be done as quickly as possible,” she said. 

Her lips pressed to your temple and then she was being swept away to her meeting. You trailed behind, doing your best to get your heart under control. You felt out of control, the emotional rollercoaster of the day having taken its toll. 

You sunk into the chair behind her desk, fiddling with the pen left abandoned on her desk when she’d moved out for her mission. Even knowing she was in the building and safe, you still felt jittery without her in your line of sight. You just wanted to sink into her and never let her go. 

You waited there for over an hour, pen tapping against your thigh. The door opened, your heart leaping in your chest. Kate closed it softly, leaning back on the door, warm eyes settling on you. Her lips pulled up into a smile, soft and fond, speaking of the years you’d had together. 

“Were you hurt?” you asked.

“Only some bruising,” she said, “nothing serious.”

“Then c’mere.”

You held your hand out to her. Rounding the desk, her fingers tangled with yours. You pulled her down onto your lap, curling your arms around her, feeling her weight settle on you, warmth seeping into your body. 

She lent forward, pressing her lips to yours and you sighed, your muscles finally relaxing. Her fingers tipped your chin up, kissing you more insistently until you were gasping her name. Your hands pushed under her shirt, finding the bare skin of her back, palms brushing over her spine until you felt her shiver. 

She was alive under your hands, warm and real and unharmed. She invaded every sense, her perfume in your nose, her taste on your tongue, the sound of her whimpers loud in your ears. It was like she couldn’t get close enough to you. Luckily, you wanted her closer still.

“Kate,” you moaned, “fuck.”

She drew back, far enough for her nose to skim along your jawline, lips pressing to your skin until you were melting against her. 

“I missed you,” she murmured into your skin.

“I missed you too,” you said, arms tightening around her.

She let out a long breath, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your breathing slowed to fall in tandem with hers, your hearts beating together. 

“Mel shouldn’t have called you,” she said.

“I’m glad she did. I would have wanted to know,” you said, “if something had gone wrong…”

“Nothing was going to go wrong,” she said, drawing back to look at you properly.

“You had a gun pointed at you. Kate, you promised me it was nothing but routine. That didn’t look routine,” you said.

“Things got out of hand but we had it under control,” she said.

“You were shot at!”

She blinked at you. You were staring back, waiting for her to admit that you had every reason to be worried. 

“I was always going to come home,” she said.

“You can’t know that,” you said.

“I can,” she said, sounding so sure.

“How?” you demanded. 

“Because I had to get home to you.”

Your breath caught. The way she was looking at you was so certain of herself, and so certain of you. Her fingers gently pushed your hair behind your ear, lingering on your skin, softening under your gaze. 

“Kate,” you breathed.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me, or what situations I’m put in. They can try but I’ll always have something more important to fight for. And that’s you, darling. I will always be fighting to get home to you,” she said, “so none of the rest of it matters. Because there is no one fighting harder than me, and there never will be.”

You had no words. Shaking your head, you pulled her in for another kiss. Soft and sweet, lingering long enough to leave you breathless. 

“I’d marry you all over again if I could,” you said.

“This hasn’t scared you off?” she asked, and for the first time you heard a note of worry in her voice.

“Never,” you said.

“Good, because I’d quite like to go home now,” she said.

��Have a bath? Glass of wine? Good book?” you asked.

“You know me so well,” she chuckled, “although there is one thing missing there.”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You, darling. I can’t have an enjoyable evening without you.”

You melted, feeling yourself fall even more in love with her. She placed a chaste kiss on your lips before standing from your lap. Holding out a hand to you, she was smiling down at you, eyes smouldering.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go.”

You didn’t need telling twice.

[saintsenara]

you said “the eleven-year-old riddle, for example, is written in a way which suggests he has an accent and uses words and expression which would be understood as working class”. Can you elaborate on what you mean? I love your meta btw. You are brilliant

thank you for two tmr-related follow-up questions to the slughorn/snape bonanza meta, anons!

[and thank you for calling me "brilliant", anon no. 1. picture me kicking my little feet in the air and chirping like a cat which has just seen a bird outside.]

how is the eleven-year-old riddle shown to be common as muck?

besides the fact he lives in an orphanage.

it's things like this:

“You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

while none of this is in a demonstrably non-standard dialect of british english [i.e. riddle doesn't use contractions like "ain't" or "innit", or say "i never did nothing to little amy benson..."] it's definitely a way of phrasing his speech - especially when coupled with the fact that this quote reads like he's speaking really quickly, and he's described as looking "furious" - which would be considered uncouth, especially in the 1930s. [not big fans of emotional volatility, the posh].

his refusal to speak deferentially to dumbledore - and the fact that when he's eventually induced to call him sir he is described as being "unrecognisably polite" - is a similar indication that he doesn't exist as a child in the sort of context where he's forced to perform more refined manners in order to get what he wants.

[the sixteen-year-old riddle is considerably more obsequious, because he recognises that the way to get things out of e.g. slughorn is to comport himself like his upper-class peers.]

and he also - which is iconic of him - calls mrs cole a bitch here. "cat" is a slang term for a gossipy or meddling woman - and while it doesn't quite have the full heft of "bitch" [you find it used with impunity by middle-class women in pretty much every piece of literature written pre-1950...], it's incredibly rude for a child to say it to a stranger who he assumes is a doctor.

riddle does also use non-standard english - for example, when he says of dumbledore's wand:

“Where can I get one of them?”

[the correct form would be "one of those".]

it's this which really hammers home - beyond the ways in which it can be inferred from the context of the setting and the scansion of his [and mrs cole's, they speak fairly similarly] speech - that he has a london accent which would be understood, especially when combined with his second-hand possessions and his general rowdiness, as working-class by the sort of people who otherwise seem to end up in slytherin.

exactly what accent this would be depends on where we think the orphanage is. the closest we come to locating it in canon is that riddle buys [or, let's be real, steals] his diary from a shop on "vauxhall road". this isn't a real place, but vauxhall is an area of south london.

but most people - including me - usually place it in east london [i like, as i've said elsewhere, to put it on dorset street in spitalfields, which is the site of one of jack the ripper's most brutal murders]. this would have him born within the sound of bow bells, meaning he'd have every right to call himself a cockney and would undoubtedly speak with a cockney accent.

the south london and east london accents are recognisably distinct from one another [and from north and west london accents], but they would both be understood as common in the time period, when both anyone born into an upper-class or upper-middle-class background and anyone who aspired to be thought of as having done so would speak with [something as close as they could to] received pronunciation.

why do i think slughorn remains chill until after riddle refuses his job offers?

riddle's conversation with slughorn about horcruxes happens at some point in his sixth year - the academic year 1943-1944. we know this because he's a prefect - but not yet head boy, because he's killed his father [his second victim - the riddles are killed in the summer of 1943, after myrtle is killed at the end of the 1942-1943 school year], and because it just makes sense from a narrative standpoint for this pivotal moment in his life to take place at the same time harry's own life is transforming.

my presumption is that the chat happens during the first term, and that riddle doesn't actually create the diary horcrux until afterwards - so let's say the conversation happens c. november 1943 [when riddle would still be sixteen - the age the diary tells us he is]. slughorn then spends a full eighteen months continuing to support and favour him - advocating for him to be head boy, attempting to set him up in prestigious jobs, presumably being willing to support his application to teach defence against the dark arts - after he's aware that he's not opposed to a bit of splitting the soul.

i don't imagine for a second slughorn would ever have turned him in - he is, after all, fundamentally a coward, and he's clearly worried that he'd get in trouble himself for discussing horcruxes with a pupil - but if he were properly troubled by the discussion i think his behaviour would resemble how he treats harry while he's trying to collect the memory: unfailingly polite and unflappably jolly, but still mysteriously unable to be cornered alone.

and - actually - i think this is the specific source of slughorn's shame over the incident, and it's why i really don't like the memory acquisition scene - "you have no idea how frightening he was" - in the half-blood prince film. slughorn is clearly rattled by the conversation, but he then seems to manage to convince himself that everything's fine and riddle was just being a teen show-off with a morbid streak.

[and the adult voldemort - for his part - evidently has no suspicion at all that slughorn took the conversation seriously enough to waver in his cowardice and admit what he'd told him.]

but riddle refusing to accept his help in securing a job - and, therefore, refusing to enter into the sort of patron-client relationship slughorn canonically establishes with pupils from non-elite backgrounds - is riddle indicating that he refuses to be restrained by the norms of wizarding society.

it's a big "fuck you" to slughorn from the perspective of social convention notwithstanding the other context - a presumed-to-be-muggleborn orphan asserting that he can make it in the world on his own terms without tugging his forelock to the pureblood elite - but it's also evidence that he has no intention of finding himself in a situation where slughorn can control him personally.

it means that slughorn finds himself in a position in which he can't dangle the threat of reporting him to the aurors for [conspiracy to commit] murder/taking an interest in dark magic we can presume is illegal unless riddle does something he wants. and it makes it impossible for slughorn to continue convincing himself their conversation was purely macabre curiosity.

slughorn can convince himself that the eighteen-year-old riddle - the polite and brilliant head boy who undoubtedly continued to attend slug club meetings without incident in the period 1943-1945 [since him being barred from such occasions would have tipped him off that slughorn was worried] - can still be treated in a way which has served him well since he started teaching, and can have his... odder aspects constrained by the pressure of wizarding social convention.

the twenty-year-old riddle - on his own in his knockturn alley shop, with its dark reputation, and apparently uninterested in settling down nicely under the thumb of a respectable patron - cannot be.

and slughorn is terrified of this - and the repercussions it has the potential to bring upon him - but he's also going to be offended by it -and i think it's really interesting to skewer his canonical dislike of being associated with death eaters a little by playing with that offence: i.e. that he's not only unimpressed because lucius malfoy's in azkaban, but because of the whole bending-and-scraping-and-saying-my-lord act.

[geekyarmorel]

Your angst anon here but I come with a silly(stupid actually if u think about it) idea this time! Reader being abducted by MM so now she has to work under her helping with experiments, etc. MM seeing that reader has been on a good behavior decided to reward reader and goes, like, "you have a choice, pick something... within reason". Poor reader being her sleepdeprived self and with questionable life choices/morals answers that she wants to do MM's makeup... chaos ensues. Make it awkward, make it tense! MM thinking she's finally broken the girl into insanity but it's just reader being fascinated by all that is MM!

Hey! I love the prompt, sorry it took a while to get to. My writing capacity has suffered while I've been dealing with my festive anxiety this time of year. Anyway enjoy!

Insane for You (Crazy for you)

Mother Miranda x Reader

You were going insane, or rather yet, you were already insane. You're unsure of what caused you to blurt out that for a reward you wanted to do her makeup. But there's no taking it back now. The pseudo mother who is a rather brilliant and somewhat dubious scientist stood staring at you, a look of shock on her face for a moment before her brows furrowed as she looked over you.

Her face smooths out and with a very slight nod she speaks. "Very well. Tomorrow I'll let you do my makeup. You're dismissed for the day."

You can't believe what you just heard and it takes a minute for it to sink in. She turns and goes back over to her desk, her piercing eyes locking on yours again. "I said dismissed."

"Right, of course, sorry." You say quickly, removing your coat and hurrying out of the lab. Once you got back to your room you sink down to the floor as you try to gather your thoughts. You were possibly a crazy person who literally asked to do the villages deity's makeup as a reward for doing good work for said woman. "What the actual fuck." You whisper before burying your face into your hands, what had you gotten yourself into.

Of course your mouth would speak before your brain had a chance to catch it. Wanting nothing more than to spend time with her, to get just a tiny bit closer to her than you've been. Because let's face it, you were head over heels for her. You hoarded the time you spent together, collecting the small signs of familiarity that she gave. Like the slight nod she gave when you did something right or beneficial to her, or the quiet 'thank you' when you took her the warm supper you cooked for her, or perhaps the way she hovered next to you while you both worked now instead of staying far away from you.

And your big stupid brain and mouth has possibly just ruined things for you. What if you didn't do her makeup right? What if she hated it and then hated you? You shuddered at the thought, no thank you. You've seen what happens when you get on her bad side, it's scary AF and you weren't going to let yourself go down that road.

With a sigh you get up and pick up the book you had been reading but the pages held no interest to you. After the third attempt to read the same page you gave up. Instead you made your way to the kitchen, preparing supper a bit early but cooking always gave you a sense of peace. It doesn't take long before the kitchen is filled with the aroma of food cooking, you humming softly while you stir.

Once dinner is ready you fix a plate for yourself and left it on the counter while you took down Miranda's plate to the lab. She was at her desk, scribbling down some notes. You placed the dish to the side of her and get a small "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You stand for just a minute and it causes her to look at you. "I'm sorry for asking to do your makeup. I know it can be kind of an intimate thing and I don't want to overstep. It was just a stupid thing my mouth said before my brain could catch up."

Her piercing blue eyes stare at you for the longest time, her face in her resting bitch face position. "Do you really think I'm that repulsive? That you don't want to touch me?"

Your mouth dropped open and she turned back to her work. She thought you find her repulsive?? "What?! No! I-"

"I have seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking." She cuts you off, the grip on her pen tightening. "You let me get closer to you, let me work beside you. I thought that was progress."

"I-"

"Leave." Her words turned clipped and cold.

"No." You can't leave her thinking that you find her repulsive. "I don't find you repulsive! I have never thought that once, honestly. I look at you like that because I want to be closer to you, because I'm head over heels for you. I want to do your makeup because I want to be closer, I want to be able to reach out and touch you. But I didn't want to overstep and ruin what we've gotten." The words sort of rush out from you. "I like you Miranda, I really do."

It seemed like that lab had fallen completely silent at your words. A moment passes before she puts down her pen and rises to stand in front of you. Her hand comes and slips up your neck and pulls you close, her lips pressing against yours. They were soft and warm, and your hands reached out to pull her close against you while you kissed back wholeheartedly.

Miranda pulls back when she needs to gather her breath. "You will be doing my makeup tomorrow and we'll be having dinner together." She declares before pulling you close again for a few more kisses. "Now come on." She reaches for the plate you had set down.

"Yes ma'am." And you happily follow her out of the lab.

"Hold still."

"You're attacking my eyelashes with that mascara." She protest and gives you a sharp look.

"I'm putting a second coat on to make your lashes look fuller. Relax or I'm going to jab you with the wand."

"Try that and it won't go well for you."

"I could always kiss away the hurt." You supply with a smile. You receive a soft smile in return.

"True." Miranda stills and let's you carefully apply the mascara. You finish her makeup with a soft pink lipstick, handing her the compact so she could assess the look. "You did well."

"Thank you." You say, taking the little mirror back and casting a look at your own reflection. The purple and red hickies stuck out against your skin. "Do you think concealer would cover these?"

"You will not be covering them." Miranda says pushing your hand away so she may lean forward and press a few more biting kisses to your neck.

"Stop you'll ruin your lipstick!" You say with a delighted chuckle, playfully squirming.

"It's not the only thing I'll ruin today."

"Miranda!"