#checking out prompts and this one had me like !!

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, I'm obsessed with your writing, it's scratching a part of my brain I didn't know could be scratched. Anyway I love it and was wondering if any millionaire shortcake, s'mores, pots de crème and whatever's on the house could be served by Max Verstappen please?

Love <33

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i've been slowly getting through the prompts! this has been a fun little one to write! and thank you, thank you for loving my writing. sometimes it's hard to put into my head that people read me work because it's just me in my room haha, so thank you!!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + on the house: author's choice! (root beer: filming/recording) served by max vestappen (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, motorhome sex, rough sex, filming/recording, dirty talk, clothed sex

max looked at you from across the paddock, you were happily chatting with one of the mechanics. max knew you were taking engineering in school, after all racing was in your blood. you were the sister of charles leclerc, the only daughter out of four children.

and after a particularly rough weekend, max verstappen, wanted a little revenge. and while he was a little old for childish pranks towards charles. he was old enough to fuck the only leclerc daughter. as you ended up further through the paddock, your curious gaze was trying to find your brother max soon caught up with you.

a possessive arm got around your shoulder and you yelped. but then relaxed when it was just max. you exhaled deeply and smiled softly, an innocent kind of smile, "max! you scared me." you trusted max, you always did!

you had made the assumption in your head that max was going to shepherd you back to your brother. but, instead you were led further away from where he could possibly be. out of ferrari territory and right in red bull's. he guided you with a hand on the small of your back like a lover. his neck craned towards you as if he was going to kiss you.

"where's char, max?" you asked as you held the front of max's shirt. instead he just kissed you on the face.

"we'll wait in the red bull motorhome. you'll be safe there, treasure." he smiled at you. his voice soft, inviting. revenge coursed through him as he brought you up the steps of the home for the weekend.

his hands were on you a little more intimately once you got inside. you stumbled through the doorway and max pressed his clothed erection up against your behind, "the leclerc's pride and joy. the stray from the pack. you became an engineer and you made them proud. but if they saw you now." he flipped up the tennis skirt your wore and he was greeted with simple blue panties, "you'd be the greatest shame to your family." you were loved by your family and you always thought family was important. but, max's words burned in your minds and took nest in a deeper, darker part of you.

letting your brother's rival fuck the day lights out of you.

"max." you swallowed as he firmly grasped your throat. not enough to bruise but enough to keep you still.

"the accent gets you, doesn't it?" he asked lowly as he rubbed up against you. he thought he'd need to give you the princess treatment and give you a bed. but you quickly ended up over the couch. your blouse was unbuttoned and hung off your shoulders and your panties down your soft thighs.

if charles was a devil on the track, then you were the balance of light. an angel that max was going to ruin.

max admired your soaked cunt for a moment as he palmed himself through his jeans. he licked his lips, and said as he got behind you on the couch, "you look good like this. bent over for me. your little private school probably didn't teach you how to be a good slut. good thing i'm here, because i'll teach you everything."

you moaned as max teased your cunt with his fingers for a moment before he licked the wetness off of them. he undid his belt soon after and got his cock out of his pants. he knew he if he was a better man, he would have no grabbed his phone from his pocket and recorded him slotting his heavy cock into your needy little cunt.

he asked, "how does it feel?"

if a picture is worth a thousand words, then he could probably get a million dollars from the photo. the one he took of your cunt taking his cock beautifully. it made him lick his lips as he started to move against you.

his thrusts were strong and quickly he built up the pace. he was only encouraged by your slutty moans. you sounded like you loved cock. and who was max to deny you that. of course he'd fuck your sweet cunt with everything he got! and let filthy words tumble off his tongue as he worked your achy sex.

"i bet you were popular for all the wrong reason. not because of your smarts of your humor. no, you were popular because you gave it up so easily." max knew that wasn't true. you were notoriously monogamous, it was just words that scratched an itch. but don't worry you're little head, with the slice of heaven that max was feeling. he'd happily fuck you any day of the week.

you fueled his lust, simple as that. now it was your job to satisfy it. as his rough jeans rubbed against your behind with rough movements. he made you feel a pleasurable heat all over.

"i bet you knew exactly how to make the boys squirm. you have a pussy that could be called addictive. i was going to fuck you to blow off steam but now... i know why your brothers wanted you away from the track. you're not but a distraction."

you swallowed and felt the surge through your body. your pulse was quickened and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. you had no idea what max had planned for the future. you were his now. he wasn't going to give up having sex with you and let someone else have the chance. not lando, or lance, or anyone else. no one else could stake a claim while he was pushed inside of you.

you groaned through a tense jaw as he continued to hit against the right places. he made you shudder and squirm in all the right ways. you clutched onto the couch as he continued to fuck you with a quick thrusts that made you need more.

"fuck, more! please!" your noises were so sweet that max couldn't help but record them as he fucked you. he caught sight of how lovely, simply lovely, you took his cock. you fit perfectly against him.

you were just a little treat as he continued. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"it feels good." you gasped as he fucked you. his pace was quick and near erratic. he fucked you with purpose and it left you seeing stars at every chance. he was obsessed with you and you needed him in return. you knew you were close, you heavily panted against the white leather of the couch while he crammed every inch inside of you. he made sure your sweet cunt was filled to the max with him. his cock hit against you and it made you whine for more.

"you feel amazing, fuck, your pussy is amazing." he shuddered and pushed you further up against the couch. your noises, he gripped onto your hips tightly and bounced you up against his cock.

with a few more thrusts, you arched your back. you came around his cock which only made him move faster. he worked his aching cock into you.

"fuck, max!" you yelped and grasped tightly. you felt the after shudders of orgasm. you sounded beautiful and let him just fuck you with a feverish pace.

max was close behind you. he finished inside of you soon after. a few more heavy thrusts and he was spent. he held onto your hips for a moment longer as he slowed to a stop. he kissed your clothed back and rocked against you a few more times before he pulled out. a beady strain of cum connected you two. just as he liked it.

"how was that?" he asked as he pulled out and got his cock back into his jeans. he felt good as he watched you try to collect yourself.

you replied through heavy pants, "really fucking good."

-

"there you are." you heard your brother's voice as you walked through the paddock with max close by. charles took you by the shoulders and away from max, "where did you go?"

you swallowed as you could feel max's cum against the cotton of your panties. you then chuckled as your brother pulled you in for a tight hug, "i think i just got lost. but! max was here to help me." you looked over to the other man.

charles smiled at his long time rival, "thanks, mate." he had zero clue what max did to you. your brother slapped you on the back lovingly, "let's get back towards our end so we can get ready for dinner." then gave max one last look before you both left.

max eyed your behind as you walked away. he wondered for a moment, which school did you go to and how easily could get there. <3

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[star--stilinski]

Just thinking of stiles going “oh yeah?”

did you guys hear me moan just now say yes if you did

☆

you're play-fighting, an argument about nothing. but the conversation is turning, tilting, the room getting warmer. he's manspreading on the couch across from the loveseat you're perched in, both of you waiting on scott and liam while they do some stupid werewolf stuff. well, it's not stupid, but.

sometimes it is.

"you're not half as talented at figuring people out as you put on." you tilt your nose up and scoff. what prompted that? something something who's smarter than who something something. stiles has a look in his eyes, his pupils like predatory slits as he watches you. it makes you want to press more of his buttons, just to see. "you couldn't figure me out with a map and a flashlight."

his lips turn up cockily. "already have. i don't need any assistance."

you drop the facade, curious now. "liar. name one thing about me that you figured out." layering on your skepticism to bait him, you cross your ankles in the seat, subtly pressing your thighs together.

not on purpose.

obviously.

he tilts his head at you, eyes dipping over your figure before meeting your gaze head-on. he's always been a bit more bold with just you two in a room arguing, like the environment gives him room to (metaphorically) stretch his legs. you watch as he shifts his hips just slightly. "you like attention. compliments and gifts and touches. but it flusters you. as if you don't think you deserve it."

okay, asshole. you look away from him and fix your necklace. "that is so not hard to assume. i'm sure plenty of people feel that way." swallowing, you look over at him again. "especially girls."

stiles squints at you, crossing his arms over his chest. "alright, fine. you like it when you get- or i guess, from what i've experienced- you like it when i manhandle you. you make this face when you like something. it's..."

his jaw clenches, and he pauses like he's changing directions. "annoying."

you make an offended noise and narrow your eyes at him. "i do not."

"you do." he raises his brows in challenge. "you're making it right now."

"nothing you are doing is likeable, currently." you snap quickly.

stiles smirks, tilts his head at you. his hips are pushed out and his arms are crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge a bit.

"oh yeah?"

☆

there are so many more "oh yeah" scenarios. guys he's an accidental whore i love him. on the phone late at night while you say "i'm so tired but i dont wanna hang up :(" he's like "oh yeah?" in the sleepy voice. wearing a skimpy fit lydia had you borrow and he's checking you out clearly half hard and you're like "yea i just borrowed it from lyds nbd" and he's like "oh yeah?" absentmindedly. making out he finds your sweet spot on your neck and you tell him "feels so good" and he's all condescending like "oh yeah?"

[elizabethemerald]

The Future of the Pantheon of the Gods

@prehistoric-catgirl added onto @stealingyourbones 's post about Random DC characters interacting with DP characters. Her character was Cassie Sandsmark and she created a prompt where-in Cassie is assigned to become part of the new Pantheon and to seek out other members of the new Pantheon, including Danny Phantom who will be the new God of Death.

Masterpost

***

"Is this true?" Cassandra Sandsmark asked.

Cassie, Donna Troy and Diana Prince, stood before the gathered gods of Olympus. Cassie had been surprised to be summoned alongside the original Wonder Woman and the first Wonder Girl, her mentor and greatest inspiration respectively, to stand before the Olympians.

"Yes. Though we have tried to stop the decline, the truth is the gods are dying." Zeus rumbled, ozone and petrichor filling her nose as he spoke.

Cassie hadn't wanted to bring it up, but the gods around them did seem... older... weaker than they ever had been. They were still far over any mortal, but even with all the gathered Olympians the air was suffocated by their power like it had been even a few years before.

"Is there some way we can assist?" Donna asked, looking around them and no doubt cataloging the same changes Cassie had noticed.

Hera smiled at the trio of Wonder Women.

"Your noble spirit is why we have summoned you, but there is nothing that can be done to save us now." The words had a weight of surety to them. Everything had already been tried. The end of the Olympians was inevitable.

"The worship from the mortals has declined in recent centuries." The ground rumbled and shook under her feet as Poseidon spoke. "We are not as powerful now as we were a decade ago and in another decade more our infirmity will only grow."

Hades spoke next, his voice cracking with cold that stole Cassie's breath away. "There were some of us who felt we should just fade away, if the mortals no longer wished to worship us, then they can see how well they do without our influence over our domains."

"However, the rest of us wanted to ensure our domains remained to serve the humans even after our passing." Hera said, her words like a gavel. "The solution we have reached is to pass on our mantels to new, worthy successors. Those who have some skill with our domains, unshakable moral codes, and a deep love for their fellow mortals."

Cassie pondered the words of the Gods in the following silence. Then her eyes widened and her head whipped up to meet the eyes of Zeus who smiled at them as she gasped.

"Yes, we plan to pass on our duties to heroes such as yourselves." He declared, his arms open, magnanimously.

Cassie could see that Donna and Diana were as shocked as she was, though both of them kept their gasps silent. Diana gave a short bow.

"If there is no other way, than is a duty I can bare." She said.

"Not you Diana." Hades said, his empty eyes capturing them each in turn. "You have your own purpose among the new Pantheon, God-killer."

Diana stiffened and rose to face the Olympians once more, her shoulders set. Hera was the one to speak next.

"We decided those best to handle the weight of the cosmos would be those who are young enough to grow into their new roles. There are many such young heroes in your world who could train alongside us before our decline is complete."

"And if they should fall short of your standards, you expect me to serve as their executioner." Diana's disdain could have only been more clear if she had spat on the floor.

"Yes." Poseidon snapped like the crash of wave. "The power we have, that we are offering is too great to exist without some kind of check to prevent its abuse."

"Besides," spoke Athena for the first time, her eyes still filled with power despite her declining worship. "How many problems have been created for the mortals by the petty squabbles of those who sit on these thrones? We believe you, Diana, will be a worthy mentor for our successors, but you will not be among them. Always apart, always with your sword ready."

Diana's fury burned off her in waves, hating the idea that she would have to turn her blade against some of the junior heroes that she had helped raise, and seen grow up. Cassie swore she could hear her grinding her teeth and was afraid that Diana would decide to end the Pantheon right there.

"So! Who is it you have decided to be your successors?" Donna spoke up quickly, clearly thinking the same thing Cassie was.

"We have consulted the greatest oracles and soothsayers and each of us have chosen one who will suit." Hera said. "Zeus, why don't you go first."

Zeus held his hands out towards Donna. His eyes locked on hers. He stepped down from his dais as Donna stepped back, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

"Who else could take my place other than the sister of our dear Diana, who has proven her metal through lifetimes of strength and suffering. Donna Troy, you will be the next Queen of Olympus."

Donna looked like she might pass out, but shook the shock off and stood firm, earning her a proud smile from Zeus. Cassie patted her on the back, proud of her idol for everything she has accomplished.

"And you Cassandra, daughter of Zeus will take my place as the Goddess of War." Ares declared. "As you should."

Cassie carefully kept her snarl inside, her problems with her "brother" Ares was better left for when she was away from the rest of the Pantheon. At least if she were the Goddess of War, she wouldn't revel in the violence like he always did.

"We will not transfer our power now." Zeus spoke up again, returning to his throne. "Once the New Pantheon is assembled we will hand over our mantels, retaining only a fraction of our power to train our successors."

"Your responsibilities, and the reason we called you first, is so that you may notify those who will join you by your side." Hera said, settling to the details of their mission. "Diana, you will inform the mentors of these young heroes to prevent a panic. Diana, many of these are known to you, and you are known to them, so you will be the primary contact."

Hermes and Athena stepped forward to hand off scrolls to the two of them. Cassie fought to keep her emotions neutral. She would help no one by pouting at being redundant. Diana and Donna looked closely at the scrolls, their faces journeying through emotions as they considered the names.

"And you Cassandra," Cassie looked up in surprise at being addressed by Hades. "There are other heroes that you must reach out to who are not known to your organization, including my own successor."

"Secret would be a perfect-" Cassie started, quick to suggest her own teammate before Hades cut her off.

"No!" He snapped, the word stealing her breath away, forcing her to gasp and clutch her chest. "Your companion does have skills with regards to my domain, but there is another whose power and dominion of death is absolute. He is already a king in his own right, and his connection to life remains strong enough that he would be able to sympathize with the mortals. While he is unknown to your Justice League he is know and beloved to me."

Cassie nodded her head as another scroll, this one cold as ice was handed to her by Hermes. She couldn't help but be impressed by whoever this person is. She hadn't heard Hades call anything beloved other than Persephone in all the time she had known him. She looked at the names and coordinates on the scroll.

"Who on Earth is Phantom?"

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[daisymbin]

dino x f!reader

fluff prompt 28. "you’ve been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this whole time?"

reader finding out that Dino carries around a Polaroid photo in his wallet and it makes her emotional and feel really loved 🥺

omg this is so cute...thank you for requesting!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #28: "you've been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this while time?"

chan leaned against the doorway, watching you shuffle through the stack of polaroids spread out across the kitchen counter. the late afternoon sun bathed the room in warm light, but you didn’t seem to notice, your brows furrowed in concentration. he smiled softly—he loved seeing you like this, so focused, even if you were clearly frustrated.

“babe, are you okay?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen and resting his hands on the counter.

you looked up at him with a sigh, your lips pressed into a pout. “no. i can’t find it.”

“can’t find what?” he tilted his head, concern flickering across his face.

“the polaroid,” you said, gesturing to the mess of pictures in front of you. “the one that the old man offered & took of us on our first date. remember? the one by the fountain?”

chan froze for a moment, and his heart squeezed at the mention of that day. of course, he remembered. it had been one of the best days of his life.

“it’s the perfect picture for the fridge,” you continued, your frustration evident as you ran a hand through your hair. “it’s meaningful, and it’s... us. but it’s gone. i don’t know where it could be.”

chan watched as you shuffled through the pictures again, muttering to yourself. he could see how much this meant to you, and he felt a pang of guilt for keeping it away from you all these years.

“oh, this?” he said casually, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

you froze mid-motion, your eyes narrowing slightly. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

chan grinned, flipping open his wallet and carefully pulling out the slightly worn polaroid. he held it up between his fingers, the corners frayed from years of being carried around. “this is the one you’re talking about, right?”

your jaw dropped. “you’ve been carrying that photo of us in your wallet this whole time?”

he laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “uh... yeah. is that bad?”

“bad?” you stepped closer, taking the picture from his hand and examining it like it was a treasure you’d thought you’d lost forever. “chan, this is... you’ve had it this whole time?”

he shrugged, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “i don’t know. i just... liked having it with me. it reminds me of how lucky i got that day.”

you looked up at him, your expression softening as the frustration melted away. “you’re such a sap,” you teased, but your voice was warm, your smile unmistakably affectionate.

“hey, don’t act like you’re not flattered,” he shot back, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “i mean, come on. who wouldn’t want to carry around a picture of the best day of their life?”

“the best day of your life?” you repeated, arching a brow.

“okay, maybe not the best,” he admitted, grinning. “but it’s definitely up there. it was our first date, after all.”

you stared at him for a moment, the polaroid still in your hands. “i can’t believe you never told me,” you said softly.

chan’s smile faltered, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “i don’t know. it felt... personal, i guess. like something just for me.”

you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “well, now it’s something for both of us. and i think it belongs on the fridge.”

he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. “are you sure? i mean, i can keep carrying it if you want—”

“chan,” you interrupted, your voice firm but kind. “we’re putting it on the fridge. it’s too special to keep hidden away.”

he hesitated for a moment before nodding. “only if we take another one together to put in my wallet. deal?”

“deal,” you said with a laugh, holding out your pinky.

he linked his pinky with yours, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

“thank you,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. “for keeping it safe. for always keeping us close, even when i didn’t know.”

chan’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “always,” he murmured. “you’re everything to me, you know that, right?”

you nodded, your eyes shining with emotion. “i know. and i feel the same.”

as the two of you placed the polaroid on the fridge together, chan couldn’t help but think that this moment—this quiet, tender moment with you—might just be his new favorite memory.

[gayeddieagenda]

❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

--

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

[chithereader]

playing it cool / aaron hotchner

[credits to the owners of these photos!!]

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff!!!!!!

cw: sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, so much of aaron’s thoughts because we know that man thinks soo much more than he speaks!!

a/n: hiiii this is my third post so far and tbh i was so nervous to post the first two as that was my first time ever posting any of my writings anywhere!! but i’ve been getting so much more love on those than expected and i just really wanted to say thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs <33 i was honestly only expecting less than 10 notes as a newbie and reaching up to 200 is so so so wonderful. and especially for the love of hotch i– ugh!!!!! i already love u all 

The team had worked a straight 5 weeks worth of cases prior, which had warranted Strauss to grant them all a mandatory 3-day rest. This simply meant that for 3 whole days there are no cases, no deadlines, and no new case files. They could come to the office at whatever time they’d like as long as they finished some reports at the end of the day. 

Aaron being Hotch the boss man still aimed to arrive at the office at a reasonable time– 7:30am. To be fair, this is an hour and a half later than when he usually arrives at the office. And in his mind, the earlier he arrives, the more he can get done, and the more he gets done, the earlier he can come home. 

This is the only reason why he is up at 6:00am on a supposed rest day. He did expect that he’d struggle a bit more to drag himself out of bed, knowing you’d be keeping him hostage with limbs that wrap around him in ways he can’t begin to understand, but to his surprise, you weren’t there. 

Dragging his feet across the carpeted floor, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and white shirt fitting him oh-so-snugly, he tries to find you. He’s rubbing the sleep of his eyes as he peeks his head into your shared bathroom. No sign of you. 

He’s covering his mouth as he yawns when he quietly opens the door to Jack’s bedroom–still no sign of you. Remembering his son has been nursing a stomach bug since yesterday, he opened the door further to check on him. No fever. No chills. No sign of discomfort. 

When he’s sure Jack’s okay, he turns around to go back to find where you went. He even checked the backyard as he passed by a window to see if you’re at your favorite swing reading, that perhaps you just woke up early and wanted to feel the morning sun because you claimed it lightens you. 

He smiles a little to himself as he treads downstairs, finally hearing your soft murmurs as you spoke with someone presumably over the phone. As he neared the kitchen he realized that the person on the line was your colleague and friend Tilly, and that she was on speaker phone making it easy to listen in. 

He slows down his steps as he nears the landing and pauses when he gets behind a wall near the kitchen. He doesn’t know what came over him. He doesn’t usually sneak around to eavesdrop, nor did he ever feel the need to especially when it came to you. You tell him everything, prompted and unprompted. 

But perhaps it was the haze of the morning or the curiosity of what could possibly get you out of bed this early when you’re usually the one snoozing away as he’s getting ready for work– he stayed quiet behind that wall and made it his mission to understand the conversation. 

He clears his mind and strains his ear, going as far as making his breaths slow and far apart. 

He hears Tilly giggling, “Don’t get me wrong, Adam from Finance is really cute but.. isn’t he just a little too serious? He’s always got that frown going on.” 

You sigh a little loudly, obvious that it’s a sigh to humor and not of exasperation, “Tilly, you know I love you, but every day you complain about being single. And every other day there’s a decent guy who you always always find that one flaw in that just crosses them off for you forever.” Tilly lets out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a gasp. 

“That is so not tr–” “Oh, Hugh’s just too clean. And Frederick’s too hard, it’s like- scary. Yes, veiny hands are hot but there’s veiny and too veiny, and Jason was just a double too veiny.” 

Aaron momentarily pauses his listening and looks down at his hands, suddenly conscious where he fit in that category. Factoring in his age, his work, and the action he gets from the field– these all show. He tried thinking of a time you could’ve shown any dislike or disgust towards his hands but all he could think of was that one night when he cupped your face and you leaned towards it more, turning slightly to take his thumb into your mou–

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he hears Tilly asking about you leaving, “What time are you getting to the office by the way? I just don’t want to get there without you. Adam might ask about that second date and I just need you as my bluff, my beautiful girl.” He makes a mental note to message Jessica before you both get ready for work. 

“Riiiight. Remind me how many guys have I scared off for you now? And how many times have I helped you scare them off? Besides, I can’t go today and I’ve already told Bobby I’m on leave.” 

In a slight surprise and panic Tilly whines, “What?! Why? You’re such a traitor. You know damn well I get so bored without you.” Aaron didn’t even know you were planning on staying home. You hadn’t mentioned anything about it last night which made him even more curious what made you decide. 

He hears your soft laugh, “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll manage a day without me. I mean you have to– my son caught a stomach bug yesterday so I just want to make sure he’ll recover completely.” 

Aaron can hear Tilly responding, something about soup and warm baths, but his heart has just stopped so he’s not really processing any new words at the moment. 

My son. My son. My son. My son caught a stomach bug. 

He feels lightheaded. His heart kickstarts again, his pulse is ringing in his ear. He can feel his chest pounding to his heart’s beat. The words that rolled off your lips so effortlessly, so mindlessly, echoes in his head. 

Jack may be young but he is smart. So so smart beyond his years. And he has grown to understand what had happened to his mom Haley, but not once has he– and even you allowed Jack to forget who Haley is and how much she loves him. 

Images of you joining in their traditions of honoring and remembering Haley plays in his head in flashes. You helping Jack arrange a bouquet for Haley’s death anniversary. You helping Jack make a card for her birthday. You mixing the paint to get the right shades as Jack paints a portrait of Haley for his Mothers’ Day homework. 

Aaron had told you everything there was to know about Haley and you’ve listened. He knows you adore her. You adore her for the same reasons he adored her. You understood the space Haley had in his life and in Jack’s life, and not once were you ever jealous, immature, or selfish about it. Even though he would’ve completely understood if you were. 

You were nothing but supportive, and understanding, and loving. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when you deserved better. Admittedly, there was a point in time when he struggled with coming to terms with falling in love– with you nonetheless. You’re young, ambitious, brilliant, talented, insanely beautiful, and unfairly kind. 

When the two of you had met, this was his profile: divorced with a kid, recovering from trauma that stemmed from being stabbed multiple times in his own home, emotionally unavailable, annoyingly serious and fatally dull– which really makes him wonder what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and even more so what made you stay even when he was bafflingly dense about how you felt about him.  

He didn’t know how long he was standing there, like a deer caught in headlights. Replaying your words and his memories over and over again, slowly coming to the conclusion that you’re absolutely perfect and he’s absolutely gone for you. 

Slowly coming to his senses, Aaron becomes more aware of the silence. The call must have ended while he was having realizations about things. He rounds the corner silently, getting a feel of where you’re facing. Luckily he guesses right, that you’re facing away from him. 

You were rummaging through the fridge– the vegetable drawer if he had to guess, judging by how much you’re slouching and reaching, and the sound of the glass containers you use to prolong their freshness. 

He quickly surveys the scene- your phone is on the counter, beside it is a chopping board with carrots and onions, a carton of chicken broth, Jack’s favorite dinosaur-shaped pasta, and chocolate milk– the one drink you both know can make Jack feel instantly better, happier. 

His heart pinches again. You got up early to make sure Jack had something to eat for breakfast in time for his medicine. You got up early even though you aren’t planning on going to work. You aren’t going to work because you want to stay with Jack. You called Jack your son. 

With so many things running in his head, he stands quietly observing you finding god knows whatever vegetable. Maybe it's the intensity of his stare or the volume of his thoughts, or maybe he started to breathe loudly– but suddenly you knew he was there. He could tell. 

You slowly straightened your back from when you were leaning. Your hands have stopped rummaging through the drawer, and he could see the goosebumps on your legs and shoulders from the way the sunlight hits you through the kitchen window. 

You turn around slowly, as if you were just caught doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing, “I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” grimacing as if it was a crime to be hot and cute and gut-wrenchingly-sweet. 

“No.” His voice is groggy. Deep and rough given that he just woke up minutes ago and hasn’t really used it since. Looking at you through studying eyes, he clears his throat “Uhm, I woke up to get ready for work and you weren’t there.” 

Aaron suddenly feels a little cold. The thin material of his shirt and pajamas doing little to contain what warmth he has left in his body. Or maybe it’s you, maybe his body has sensed that you’re near and is now craving your warmth, making him feel a magnified amount of its absence.

“Oh.. I’m sorry I just wanted to get ahead of cooking so Jack can have soup before he takes his medicine at 8 and since I was also planning to do some work though I’m on leave, it just made sense to get an early start…” You slow your words, noticing how Hotch is studying you tenfold in the moment, as if you were an apparition, “Are you okay? Did you want soup too? I can pack you some before you go?”

His silence makes you panic a little. You can’t really tell if he’s upset about something or if he’s sleepwalking, “Or you can eat here. I mean– you live here, of course you can eat here. I mean like instead of bringing it to the office– not that if you eat here, you can’t bring some anymore.” 

The longer he stays silent, adoring you, the more you scramble to fill the silence, “I’m just– you know you can do whatever you want. You can eat here, there, anywhere. Unless you don’t want soup. I mean we still have leftover steak, I cou–” 

You pause your rambling because you can see a smile starting to form on his face. A real, big smile. Laugh lines and dimples and all, which makes you smile. Realizing how stupid you were sounding and how funny the situation was becoming, you started giggling.

And just as you think he’s about to join the laughter to make fun of you, his smile softens and he says, “Marry me.” 

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 6

Check out part 1 here.

John texted memes. Something about that surprised you. He presented as such a straight-laced demeanor that the silly text images added a layer of intrigue to the man who already took such care not to share more the bare minimum.

He sent his commentary about his ‘muppets’ as he called the men under his command. The image of a man in suspenders, a tie, and a coffee mug in one hand with the text “If they could just not…” followed by any number of pictures of Jim Hensen’s muppets. It always prompts you to ask for the cleansed version of their nonsense. John had confirmed that the men who had come in asking about him were the men under his command. They were still under orders to leave you and your shop alone. When he mentioned that in the first week of texting you were surprised.

>I can hold my own in my shop John, release them to come by for fixes on anything you haven’t already stolen from their bags.

When he didn’t reply within a few hours you followed it up with.

>Your Scotsman seemed pretty excited about getting a family kilt fixed. Let them come by John. I don’t scare easy.

Halfway across the world, John squints at his phone in the darkness of the safe house he and Johnny are waiting for exfil in.

“What did you say to my girl Soap?” Price questions in the quiet.

Soap jerks from his nodding-off sleep in the corner where he had settled down.

“What’s up boss,” he asks sleepily.

He turned his phone to show Johnny the message from you.

“What did you do to my girl?”

Soap squinted through the brightness blasting his eyes.

“Dinne do nothing Cap. Alls I asked about was a kilt repair. Me granddad’s kilt was given to me when he passed, I want to get it fixed up is all.”

Soap lacked the guile to ever pull off being an undercover agent. John turned the phone back to himself, frowning.

“Fine. You can go visit her. Spread the word, but if I hear any of you gave her a bit of grief?” He let the warning linger unspoken behind his words.

“Got it. Can I go back to sleep now?”

John harrumphs and pulls out a cigar, lighting it up as he contemplates how to reply to you.

<:Rolling eye emoji: Fine, but you let me know if they give you any trouble.

>You reply with a gif of someone giving a salute with the text aye aye captain below it.

Physically rolling his eyes this time John settles in to watch the sky and think of you.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

Christmas had to be the most peaceful one you had ever experienced. Laughing with your aunts and eye contact across the table with your cousins when someone said something wild before taking a sip had never been the norm. Every Christmas season meant spending time with your Mum’s family and her resentful sniffs when Pop would inform you of the times when his sisters might be passing through so you could see them. You think Mum hated that you had real conversations with the other side of your family. Everything on her side sat stilted in past hostiles and clothed in niceness for the sake of Gran who still watched with a sharp eye.

You hadn’t expected any gifts but the highlight had to be the scarf from your favorite cousin. It sat light and delicate on your neck. When you said goodbye to everyone and headed up to the spare room your Nana had set up for you. Settling onto the bed you fired off a text to John.

<Merry Christmas! Did you have a good holiday?

>Decent.

>Merry Christmas.

Attached was a photo of John with what looked like egg nog in his mustache with an arm around a man and woman who also had white streaks along their upper lips. Standing so close together you can see they share the same eye-crinkling smile.

<Aww! You look so cute with your egg-nog mustache! Did someone spike it before cups were passed around?

>But of course, can’t discuss childhood stories without a healthy glug of whiskey. Added enough of a kick that even the scary stories were told with a laugh.

>How has yours gone? You mentioned you would be with extended family up north this year.

<It’s been a blast. Best Christmas I can remember for a long time. I am spending the night with my Nana before driving home tomorrow.

<You have any fun plans between now and New Years?

>Other than deep cleaning the mold from my fridge?

You laugh out loud in the empty room. He probably wasn’t kidding. John had mentioned that he can be called for a job at a moment’s notice and sometimes it leaves him with some nasty surprises when he eventually got home.

<Yes you silly man, other than that.

Those dots went on and off for a long time. When the message finally comes through you are disappointed.

>Nothing crazy, mostly catching up on my shows.

<What like The Golden Bachelor?

You can imagine him fighting down a smile as he contemplates a reply. He isn’t that much older than you, but the way he mothers his men has them calling him ‘Old Man’. John complains about it but always with love.

>The muppets would like to you if you would like to join them for New Years.

>I told them I had plans with you but they insisted and are watching for your response.

Smirking you fired off one last response before starting your bedtime routine.

<Should I wear jeans or a pretty dress?

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

Stepping from the cab you wave your thanks and turn to the building. John is standing at the glass door, waiting for you to get close enough that he can welcome you in. You smile at him, excited for his reaction to your dress. It is mostly visible through the undone buttons of your long coat. You had made it yourself, hands cramping late into the night with the number of times you have had to pleat the skirt to sit exactly right. Ironing the piece flat each time you wanted to pleat it slightly differently had been deeply frustrating work.

The black dress wrapped around, sending one tie through the side piece to stretch across your back and meet the other tie to create a bow. The long sleeves and v of the crossing front gave you an excuse to pull out your push-up bra and put the girls on display. You had chosen a long skirt. Reflective swirls of gold shined in the light from your skirt. It brushed the top of your shoes each time you took a step. Jewelry you kept simple; gold hoops and a single pendant on a long chain. Some light eye makeup and a lip stain are all you did for your face today. You would forget to wipe it off when you got home and refused to deal with the breakouts that overnight in your makeup would provide. Thankfully your hair cooperated and sat neatly in a sleek bun.

Looking John over as you approach you are pleased to see him in a suit. The juxtaposition of his winter beanie will never not make you smile. You hadn’t seen this one from him in all his times of coming by. You would tease him about the belt he needed to keep them up later. Perfect you could poke and prod at him tonight to confirm that you had the right size for his Christmas present. It sat in the back of your shop, waiting for his next visit to confirm the dark blue suit would contrast beautifully with his eyes. Double vested with a double vent, because something about that cute bum being covered just so gave you butterflies. The pants should cling to his thighs barely and give him a nice long silhouette

John took you in from top to bottom and back up again. You thought him unaffected until he took your hand as he opened the door and pulled you directly into a hug. Hugging him fired off a spring-loaded batch of emotions. Between the subtle smell of his cologne and the heat of his hands searing through the back of your coat, you’ve never wanted a New Years kiss more than now.

God. You had to say something. Fuck it all. You opened your mouth to say anything really but John beat you to it.

“You look stunning tonight,” he pulls back, hands still settled on your spine. He looks from your hair to your cleavage and back, a warm smile growing on his face.

“Thanks, you look pretty spiffy yourself,” tugging on the lapels of his jacket you continue, “But this doesn’t fit quite right, and was that a belt I saw? How could you keep something like this from me, John?”

His smile got impossibly wider. Joy spread through you like the first drink of a warm liquor.

“I wondered if you would notice. Gaz mentioned to wear a suit and when I went digging through my closet this was all I could find.”

John released you from the hug, one hand sliding from your back and down your arm to catch your hand. He holds it all the way up the elevator. When the elevator deposits you on the 26th floor you let John lead. Number 2607 he opens without hesitation.

All his muppets are present, some even have dates. Kyle stood at the island, cutting cheese for the board. The woman who you assumed to be Kyle’s girlfriend floated around the room. Charms weaved into her braids and a sleek body con dress matched her beautiful smile as she offered you and John both a drink. You were surprised to see that Gary was a blond. His choice of date made much more sense than his hair color and makes you smile. Sharing a look with John he nodded once; Gary had a thing for goth women. Johnny and Simon sat at a table, deep in discussion. Neither had a date to be seen.

“Simon doesn’t surprise me but why doesn’t Johnny have a date?” You turn to question John, wary of letting your voice travel in the open space.

John takes a sip of his drink, “They would have a date if either of them would buck up and ask the other.”

Your eyes widened as you snapped your gaze back to the men.

“You would not make a good agent,” he chuckled. “Johnny come hold this for me.”

Johnny pops up and out of his chair without question, closing the distance to take the drink John is holding out. John then takes your drink and passes it off to Johnny as well. Shivers assault your body as John’s rough fingers slide the coat from your shoulder and move away to hang it up.

“Miss Seamstress!” Johnny leans in and places a kiss on your cheek as he passes your drink back. “It is good to see you. How is your shop going?”

“Good, almost too good. If my space were any bigger I would bring on another seamstress full time. As it stands I might still hire someone to help with the simpler tasks.”

“What counts as a simpler task in a shop like yours?” Johnny cants his head to one side.

“Mostly ironing, unstitching simpler items, phone calls, running the register, things like that.” John appears at your side, finger-catching your pinky. You curl it tight to acknowledge his presence.

Movement over Johnny’s shoulder shows Simon and Kyle both heading toward you for a greeting. Kyle gives you a kiss much like Johnny did and Simon nods. When Gary sees everyone is saying hello he abandons his date for a rib-crushing hug since both your hands are busy.

The night flows on, laughter and food flowing more freely than the drinks do. You end up chatting with Kyle’s and Gary’s girlfriends about Pilates and how funny it would be to see the men try. They jump from history to space to fashion and beyond. Midnight sees Gary and Kyle kissing their girlfriends. Johnny and Simon stare at each other’s feet in abject longing and John places a kiss on the back of your hand, much to your chagrin.

As John had nursed his single drink all night and drove you home after one, passing through a sobriety checkpoint with ease. The conversation never stopped flowing with John, teasing and jokes kept your spirits lifted until you arrived at your flat. He walked you to your door, hand firmly in yours.

His thumb brushed against your knuckles as you stared up into his eyes, hoping, praying for a kiss.

“Thank you for coming. I left your gift at home since I didn’t want you to have to lug it about. When can I bring it by?”

“You’re gift is at the shop, so tomorrow maybe? About noon?”

“That would work fine. I had a lot of fun tonight and I know my guys like you.”

“They are important to you, it makes sense you would want someone in your life to get along with them.”

“And do you,” he paused here, eyes searching your face, “What to be part of my life?”

Desperately. More than anything. Fuck yes.

None of those words passed your lips. All you could do is nod.

With his free hand, John cradles your face, pressing his lips to yours.

It had to be the best first kiss you ever had because you can’t remember a damn second of it. When you finally blink John is halfway down the hall and turning back to see if you are okay since you haven’t moved.

Sending him a sheepish smile and a nod you fight with your key to get your lock open and fling yourself inside. Once the door finds its home you squeal as quietly as you can and happy dance like a dork.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[bullet-prooflove]

three words prompt game

young LJ Gibbs + ball (the dance event, not the sports ball), knuckles, punch

<3

Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

Companion piece to:

The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.

Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.

Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.

Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.

Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.

Wait It Out - You and Gibbs wait out a threat to your saftey.

Right Here - You come home to find Gibbs waiting for you on your doorstep.

You’re procrastinating, Gibbs realises that after he watches you straighten your desk for the third time in as many minutes. He clears his throat to remind you of his presence and you sigh as you look up at him.

You look breathtaking tonight, your hair falling across your carefully made up features in loose waves, silver earrings dangling from your lobes. You’re wearing an off the shoulder black ballgown that’s etched into a sweetheart neckline, showing off your decolletage and a pretty blue necklace that used to belong to your sister.

“I don’t want to go.” You tell him, putting a hand on your hip before gesturing at the dress. “I have enough of a hard time getting these assholes to take me seriously without turning up dressed like this.”

You’re talking about the Veterans Ball that Wheeler has roped you into, the one that his entire unit is attending as well as everyone else in the facility. He won’t pretend to understand how hard it is for you, walking the line you do. He’d already heard some of the comments in the locker room as he was getting changed into his own suit, they’re taking bets on whose going to ‘break the ice’ tonight. It had made him want to punch something hearing you talked about that way, his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dug into his palm so he didn’t beat the shit out of the men that want to fuck you.

“Ok then.” He says as he leans against the doorframe. “Let’s do something else instead.”

“Like what?” You ask him and he can tell you’re warming to the possibility of not having to run the gauntlet with those sons of bitches.

“We’re all dressed up.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “Tell me, where is the one place in San Diego you’ve always wanted to go but have always put off because it’s too expensive or too classy.”

“Benito’s.” You say immediately as you lean back against your desk, a smile ghosting across your lips. “It’s this beautiful little Italian place down by the water. Mike and Violet went for her birthday one year and she brought back this doggie bag of pasta. It was phenomenal Gibbs, like the best thing I had ever tasted.”

The way your eyes light up when you talk about that place… It makes something blossom in Gibb’s chest.

“Go get your things.” He tells you, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “I’ll call them up and see if they have reservation.”

Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sugdenlovesdingle]

I see you're looking for prompts, so if you're still writing then how about:

Tommy comes over and accidentally interrupts Uncle Buck time.

Sorry it took so long! I hope you like it!

---

"Ok Jee, these need to cool off while the other batch is in the oven." Buck told his niece, putting their freshly baked cookies onto a wire cooling rack. He grabbed her hand and moved it away when she tried to grab one. "No, no, these are hot. You'll burn yourself. It'll hurt. Ouchie."

The girl tucked her hands against her chest and warily eyed the rack.

"They'll be cool enough to eat in a little while." he promised her. "And we can make the chocolate chip ones while we wait for the snickerdoodles to cool off."

"With extra chips!" Jee announced happily.

"Sure. Why not. We can even make some more so you can take them home with you when mommy and daddy come pick you up." Buck suggested. "And maybe some banana bread too..." he mumbled more to himself than to Jee.

He flicked through the cookbook he'd bought so he wouldn't have to look up recipes on his phone (and he'd be less tempted to check his text thread with Tommy) to find the right page, while Jee pointed out all of the other things she wanted to make.

"And this!" Jee pointed at a picture of a cake that looked like something out of a professional bakery and way above his skill level.

It was perfect. A complicated recipe meant his brain had no time go over that last conversation with Tommy again to try and figure out how and where he'd screwed up so spectacularly.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Buck glanced at the clock on the oven, but it wasn't anywhere near the time he expected Maddie and Chim to be back.

He quickly wiped his hands on his apron, deposited Jee on the sofa with the cookbook and rushed to open the door.

He expected to maybe find one of his neighbours on the other side, or someone trying to convince him to donate to some charity.

"Tommy?"

The other man looked about as well as he felt. Dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, and the same three day stubble that was currently on his own face.

"Hey... Uhm... I did text... And call... But you didn't reply."

"Oh uh... Yeah my uh phone is on silent..."

Tommy nodded, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

"C-can we talk?" Tommy stammered and Buck realised he was nervous. Cool and collected Tommy Kinard was nervous about talking to him.

Before Buck got the chance to answer, a loud beeping came from the kitchen and Jee excitedly ran up to the island.

"Uncle Buck! It's done!"

"Oh... Is this a bad time?"

"Uhm..." Buck desperately wanted to talk to Tommy, but at the same time he had to keep an eye on Jee and their baking adventures. "Just... Come on in. Close the door behind you." he rushed over to the kitchen to shut off the timer and check the cookies.

"I can just go... If I'm interrupting your time with your family..."

"No, it's fine. Stay. Please. We're baking. You can help." Buck said, almost pleading. "And when the sugar rush wears off and she's down for the count, we can talk."

"Ok." Tommy nodded and took off his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door that had practically been his the past six months. Only this time there was no Air Ops uniform jacket next to it or a duffle on the floor.

"Jee, this is my friend Tommy, he's coming to help us." Buck announced as he took another batch of cookies out of the oven.

"Is that ok?" Tommy asked Jee, looking like he was afraid of her answer.

"We're making chocolate chip cookies." the girl told him like she was explaining the mysteries of the world. "With extra chips."

"Oh. Ok. Can I help with that?"

"Tommy is very good at baking." Buck told Jee. "Maybe he'll help us make that cake we found too."

"Sure. Just tell me what to do." Tommy said and Buck saw the exact moment the mask went on again. There was a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes and a fake cheery tone in his voice. "I'm happy to help where I can."

The three of them went to work and soon almost every available surface of the loft was covered in cooling cookies or ones ready to go into the oven.

Tommy had started to relax a little but there was still a tension to his shoulders Buck didn't like.

When he took the last batch of cookies out of the oven some time later, Jee was already out cold in the armchair and Tommy was sitting at the island with an almost perfect posture, like he was back in the army.

In the exact same place he'd sat when he'd broken both their hearts.

"So... That's the last of it." Buck wiped his hands on his apron before taking it off. "Maddie and Chim won't be back until 10... so we've got two hours."

Tommy nodded.

"Don't you want to clean up first? I can help." he offered but Buck shook his head and sat down too.

Somewhere in the back of his mind the irony of them being in the exact same place as when Tommy ended things between them did register, but he quickly pushed that thought away.

"No. Clean up can wait. I want answers." he looked Tommy in the eye. "I want to know why my boyfriend dumped me instead of telling me I was moving too fast and I freaked him out."

"I... I... I'm sorry." Tommy said eventually. "I did what I thought was best."

"For who? For me? For you? Because I haven't been doing so great these past few weeks."

"Neither have I..." Tommy admitted quietly.

"Then why did you do it? Why did you dump me?"

"I just... I'm not the last person kind of guy. People don't stay with me. I'm ok for a while... Until they get a better offer. I'm never anyone's mister right, only mister right now."

Buck frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"That you're going to find someone you're going to want to settle down with and that someone is not me. And that... that hurts... but it's better to rip the band aid off now than 6 months or a year or maybe even longer if I'm lucky down the line. "

"What makes you so sure I'm going to meet someone else?"

Tommy gave him a sad smile.

"Because that's the way it always goes. It's fun for a while and then you meet the person you're meant to be with."

"What makes you think I haven't already met him?"

"Evan..."

"Don't Evan me." he took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. He wanted to get this right. Make Tommy see he was serious. "I miss you." he started "You said you couldn't be my first and my last but I think you can. I want you to be. Ever since that first time you kissed me, I've felt more free and alive and... complete... than I ever have."

"Evan..." Tommy started again but Buck held up a hand to stop him.

"Just... let me get this out." he paused for a second "I'm a grown man, Tommy. I'm not some teenager with a crush who doesn't know what he wants. I've slept around plenty over the years... But I stopped doing that because it didn't make me happy. I wanted someone to come home to. Someone I could introduce to my friends and family. Someone who would listen to me talk about my day and tell me about theirs. Someone I could just be myself with. Who wouldn't get annoyed about my internet deep dives or if I had to cancel date night because I was too tired after a shift. "

"And you deserve that... And... And I hope you find that person."

"I already have." he grabbed Tommy's hands. "It's you. You know most of my friends and family, you've even already met my parents." he grinned, thinking back to Maddie and Chim's wedding day in the hospital. "You know the job, you even used to work at the same firehouse."

"That doesn't mean I'm good for you. Or good enough."

"Can I be the one to decide that?"

"I... I... what? I... of course... but..."

"Everyone keeps making decisions for me. Including you."

"I'm sorry..."

"No." Buck shook his head "I should stand up for myself more. Go after what I want."

"And what is it you want?" Tommy asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

"You." Buck said simply and leaned forward to kiss him, happy when Tommy didn't pull away or try to stop him. "I want you. All of you."

"I want that too but..."

"No buts. Whatever problem you think there is... we can work it out. I think what we have is worth fighting for, don't you?"

"I... Yes... Yeah it is..."

"But?"

"I'm kind of terrified." Tommy admitted. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. I've never been in a relationship where I fell so hard so fast... And that scared the hell out of me."

"That's ok. I can be brave for the both of us for now." Buck told him and kissed him again, just because he could. "But promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Next time I move too fast or say something dumb that makes you freak out... talk to me instead of running away?"

Tommy took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"Ok. I promise."

---

Send me a prompt and I'll write you a ficlet!

(if you've sent me one recently - I have seen it and it's most likely saved in my drafts, partially written, because I keep getting distracted - but I will finish it sooner or later!)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Sweet Tooth (Joe Goldberg x gn reader x Love Quinn)

Summary: you're a big fan of the bakery, but Joe and Love are after something sweeter- you

Warnings: obsessive behavior from Love and Joe but that's about it

A/N: my mom made me a carrot cake recently and it inspired me to write this

Everyday you entered A Fresh Tart right after lunch, needing a little something to satiate your sweet tooth before heading back to work. Sometimes it was a cake, sometimes it was a cookie, sometimes a pie, but it was always delicious.

Love quickly caught on to your routine, always making sure she was free to assist you whenever you came in. If another customer needed help, they were just going to have to wait, because you were much more important.

The bell chimed above the door to signal that you'd arrived, prompting her to smooth out the front of her apron before putting on a bright smile. "Hey! I was wondering when you were going to come in."

"I had a meeting that ran a little late, so my lunch hour got pushed back some," you replied with a smile that mirrored hers. The unfortunate bags under your eyes didn't escape her, a sure sign that you were overworking yourself, but the faint dimples that formed on your cheeks quickly diverted her attention. How cute.

"Well, you're here now. So, what can I get for you?"

While you mulled over what kind of confection you wanted for the day, Joe peeked his head out from the back. So that's the person Love always raved about coming in just after noon. You were cute, he couldn't deny that.

"If you're having some trouble making a decision, why don't you try both and see which one you like better?" He heard his wife offer when you clearly became stuck on choosing between two different sweet treats.

"Oh, I can't do that," you began to protest before Love waved her hand dismissively at your words.

"Nonsense! It's my bakery, and I say you can have a sample if you wish," she insisted while cutting a small sliver of cake from the one in the glass display case before grabbing the second pastry you'd been eyeing, placing them both in a paper to go box. "Try both, and tomorrow you when you come in you can tell me which one you liked better."

"That's awfully kind of you. Are you sure I don't owe you anything?" You asked as she slid the box across the counter, already starting to pull out your wallet.

"Of course not! It's on the house."

Despite her words of reassurance and warm smile, you still felt as though she deserved something in return, so you took out a five dollar bill and stuck it in the tip jar. "I'll be back tomorrow at my usual time."

Her eyes twinkled with admiration at the small act of kindness. You were so much sweeter than any of the things she baked, that much was certain. "See you then."

Joe came out from the back as she was watching you leave, slightly amused at the exchange that just happened. Before he could speak, however, she beat him to it.

"I want them."

It wasn't a suggestion or a request, it was a demand, one that wasn't left open for any arguments. Love wanted you, and what she wanted she got. All she needed to do was get him on board, which shouldn't be too hard given just how irresistible you were.

The next day when you came in, Love wasn't there, having taken Henry to a doctor's appointment for a check-up, which meant the she'd left Joe in charge.

"Oh, hey," you greeted in a friendly manner despite never having met him before. "You must be Joe, right? Love told me that she ran the place with her husband."

Immediately he knew why she wanted you so much. Everything about you just screamed perfect, there was no doubt about that. "Uh, yeah, hi. She told me you were having some sort of difficulty choosing between two items yesterday," he casually mentioned, wanting you to think their marriage was much smoother than it really was. They couldn't lure you in successfully if all you saw were their problems.

"I did, you're right," you replied with a soft laugh, one that made his heart leap forward in his chest. God, no wonder Love always dropped everything just so she could see you whenever you came in. He suspected the only reason she'd offered to take Henry today was so he could officially meet you and become just as obsessed with you as she was.

"And were you able to make a decision?" He was curious about you already, curious about your personal taste, your likes and dislikes. He needed to know it all.

"Well, they were both amazing as usual, but I think I'm going to have to go with the cake. Everything about it was delicious, especially the icing," you fondly reminisced, almost beginning to salivate at the thought alone.

"Sure thing," he said while grabbing a knife to cut you a slice, unable to stop himself from thinking about just how sweet your lips must taste after every trip you made to the bakery. He'd have to try a piece of the cake himself a little later so he could imagine it properly.

Your eyes were wide with giddy delight as you observed his every move, clearly excited to be able to eat the cake when you got the chance. You were just about to pull out your wallet when he held up his hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it. Love told me to tell you it's on the house."

"You know, one of these days you're really going to have to let me repay you somehow," you commented while dropping aother five dollar bill into the tip jar, just like you did last time.

Joe was already thinking of ways for you to repay the both of them, but they were far too lewd for him to say out loud. "You have a nice day," was his response instead, giving you a small wave as you left.

Damn it, he was hooked. There was no way he could refuse Love's order, because now he wanted the exact same thing she did: you.

And they were going to have you, one way or the other, no matter what it took.

End notes: I loved writing this and I'd totally be up to making a part two if anyone wanted it <3

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[eastwindmlk]

This month's @jilychallenge took a while to get started but when I had the idea this morning it came through!

Prompt: “everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” “isn’t it for you, too?” & the trope Fake dating I only really focused on the second one. Partner: @annabtg AO3

She could have picked any time to ask him a favour, honestly, there would have been plenty of times better than rushing this between classes. But her Intro to Alchemy class was right next to his Ancient Runes and it made sense to walk together. It made sense to fill the silence with idle chatter, the weather, their class and inevitably the Hogsmeade trip that weekend. 

Lily sternly reminded herself that there was no time like the present. Especially because it was already damn near impossible for her to catch a moment without Sirius in earshot. So, she sucked in a deep breath through her teeth, which faltered their steps. “You alright, Evans?” James asked at the sound and presented her with the opportunity. 

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice flipping unconvincingly, and an awkward smile made the corners of her lip jump up. “Yes,” she said again, this time more firmly, before rushing into her next words before James could get a remark in. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for advice, rather an insight.” 

James’ eyebrows slid up towards his hairline and he nodded slowly. “An insight? Into what?” he replied, his curiosity carefully measured, as if she had not learned to read him like her favourite book over the past few months. 

Lily wrung the strap of her bag, hoping to dispel some of the nervous energy that settled in her fingers. “Well, I was thinking of asking Sirius to go to Hogsmeade with me. Think he’d be keen?” The words stumbled out of her mouth clumsily, an uneven rhythm that betrayed her uncertainty. Still, her gaze did not waver from his face. 

So, she saw his eyes narrow and the smile on his lips grow tight while he processed her words. She watched James run his tongue over his teeth under his lips before nodding curtly. “I reckon he’d be keen, you two are mates,” he answered after, what she assumed was him assessing her intention behind her question. 

“I wasn’t going to ask as mates, though,” she pointed out and watched the mildly amused mask slip for a moment. 

His jaw tight, teeth clenched as James smiled back at him. “Didn’t know you fancied him like that,” he remarked, his tone flat. 

“What’s not like?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know if he’s keen but…” 

“But what?”

They paused at the door of his classroom and they peered inside to see Sirius already in his seat. “But nothing,” James muttered, his shoulders slumping as he deflated. “I’ll check with him, alright? See you for rounds.” 

“Not if I see you first,” Lily shot back with a bright smile, her fingers brushing along his sleeve before grabbing his hand and giving it a brief squeeze. Only to turn away before he could react.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Come evening, Lily stood waiting for rounds when around the corner came, not her Head Boy. She tried to not be disappointed at the sight of Remus, she liked him, and it would hurt him to see her be less than glad to see him. But she was disappointed. “He wasn’t feeling up for it?” she asked when she fell into step with him. 

“He’s been…” 

“Moping?” 

“You could say that,” Remus said with a scoff and an affectionate smile on his face. “Care to tell me why James is being a miserable sod, or should I guess?” He gave her a side-eyed glance and a bump with his hip, trying to encourage her to say something. 

Lily just hummed and shrugged while pulling a face. “Nothing that didn’t need to be done,” she answered, a smug smile playing around her lips. “So, neither of them said anything to you then?” 

Remus stopped and grabbed her hand when Lily didn’t to tug her around. “Neither?” 

Well, shit. “Freudian slip,” Lily said, her lips pressed into a thin line. She made an attempt to pull him along to continue their rounds. Remus wouldn’t budge. He just dug in his heels and let her attempt to move his dead weight. “Oh come off it!” she complained, trying to put all of her weight into pulling. 

“Tell me,” Remus said calmly, letting his hand go slack, and she could feel her fingers slip. Lily was forced to put her efforts to move him on pause. “How bad can it really be?” At that, Lily clicked her tongue and decided to completely give up on making him move; Releasing Remus’ hand to tuck hers under her armpit, hugging her own chest with a sour expression on her face. 

Lily jutted her head towards the empty hallway, her eyes darting around the collection of paintings—One more willing to wag their tongue than the next—and hoped that Remus would understand. 

Reluctantly, Remus followed and walked beside her in companionable silence while they rounded off the first floor. 

They were stuck on a staircase that decided to move while they were on it when she spoke. “I asked James to ask Sirius to come to Hogsmeade,” she explained, her head moving from side to side as she made her confession. 

“Is that it?” Remus chuckled and she didn’t need to look to know he was wrinkling his nose in amusement. 

The laugh died when she added: “As my date.” The silence that followed was heavy, filled with shock and confusion. It lasted long enough that Lily was irked by the way it made her nervous and decided to shoot Remus a glare. 

He was clearly trying to work out what to say, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. So, she gave him a moment to recover and climb to the top step, waiting for the stair to connect once more. 

“Well,” Remus eventually started, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth while he, again, mulled over his words. “That is not something I expected to hear.” 

Lily deadpanned and breezed out through her nose. “If Potter wanted me to go with him, he should have asked,” she said casually, a knowing smile spreading across her lips. Which did not go unnoticed by Remus who only had to raise a brow to entice the words out of her. “I’ve asked him out at least five times now and he somehow always misconstrues my intentions. So, I decided to give him a little nudge.” 

“By asking out his best mate?” 

“By having his best mate stand me up and be forced to finally take me on that bloody date himself,” she corrected and watched as Remus’ attitude pivoted from shocked to impressed. 

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Lily’d made sure that she was early just in case James decided to head out before everyone else. She was standing reading as she leaned against a pillar in the courtyard, huddled in her cloak against the morning chill when he passed her by. 

“Big plans?” Lily asked from the shadows and watched James jolt in surprise, turning to look where her voice had come from. She flashed him a smile and stepped into the early afternoon light. 

James offered her only a polite smile, eyes making a quick sweep from crown to sole, no doubt taking in her date outfit. A dress she knew he liked, she’d caught him staring at her in it several times. It had been a deliberate choice, and she was glad she made it when she watched him gulp. “No, just a quick trip. Nothing special,” he said with a shrug. 

Lily smiled softly and hummed. “Picking up some supplies?” 

“That’s the plan.” He nodded and he jumped up to his hair to smooth it back. “What about you? Have anything special planned for your date?” It was clear that he was uncomfortable asking this, but he really was doing his best to be a good friend. 

This realisation almost made Lily cave and confess the plan to him, but they were so close. All she had to do now was deliver the hook. “Oh just, you know, date things. That is if Sirius hasn’t overslept too much. Was he on his way when you headed out?” 

James’ expression shifted the instant she asked her question. “No? Was he supposed to be?” 

Lily just nodded and hummed innocently, like she didn’t know this was going to happen. “We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago.” 

He blinked a couple of times, turned to the castle and then back at Lily before petting his pocket, presumably for the super secret mirror only everyone knew about.”Are you sure? Cause he was still in bed when I left.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure we said ten,” she told him, forcing the corners of her lips downward, making a real attempt to look disappointed. “I’m sure he’s just forgotten the time and is rushing now,” she said optimistically, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be there for at least another forty-five minutes to check if things worked out. 

James’ brows knit together while his focus shifted between her and the bridge leading to town, his teeth massaging his bottom lip. “You know what? How about we wait for him to show over a butterbeer?” 

“I thought you wanted to be quick?” 

“Well, I also want my best mate to not be an arse but seems like I won’t be getting my way today regardless. So, I’d rather spend it with good company.” 

“You don’t have to chaperone me, I’ll be fine,” Lily protested, mostly for posterity. 

James laughed at this and offered her his arm. “It’s no bother, I hate seeing you disappointed.” 

She gladly hooked his arm through his, letting herself be pulled closer, leaning into him as they started down the path to the village. “So, you’re my substitute date then?” 

“I wouldn’t say that, but I could be if you’d want me to be.” 

Lily fell silent for a moment, letting the words hang between them as she worked up the courage to say the words. “I’d love a real date with you.” 

They stopped suddenly, James pulling her to a halt so abruptly she nearly pulled out of his grip. “Do you mean that?” His voice was smaller than she’d ever heard it before, uncharacteristically uncertain. 

“Yes.” was all the answers she could give him, all the answers he should need. 

The crease between James’ brow deepened, the look in his eyes intense. “Then why didn’t you just ask me?”

A pained smile painted across Lily’s lip, recognizing the pain behind the words.  “I did. I have. You just…” 

“All those times? The last trip? The lake? The library?” 

Lily nodded as he listed several of her attempts to do something romantic with him, and he’d assumed it had been just her being friendly. “All those times,” she confirmed, her shoe scuffing the cobbles. 

James raked a hand over his face and groaned. “So, then, why ask Sirius?”

“To get your attention,” she replied simply, matter-of-factly. “If you’d think we’re dating, if you’d think that he stood me up you’d do… Well, this.” Lily motioned vaguely between them and the world around them.

James sucked his teeth and looked away, clearly frustrated. “It worked,” he muttered, clearly irritated. 

She stepped forward, closing the space between them, and lifted her hand to cradle his cheek. A rush of warmth crashed over her when he immediately leaned into her palm, his eyes closed. “You are both the worst,” he complained as he turned his head to kiss her palm. 

“Bad enough to not want that date?” she questioned, her heart hammering against her ribs, fast and painful. 

“No, I, shamefully, have to admit that you need to do a lot more and a lot worse than this to make me turn down a proper date with you,” he told her earnestly, his eyes soft as he looked at her again, this time feeling different. 

“Then let’s go.” 

[zahri-melitor]

So I've read the opening story of Tim Drake: Robin.

The opening issue is solid, highlighting a lot of Meghan Fitzmartin's skills as a writer. She picked up threads neatly from her earlier stories, showed her hand to the audience, and did do a fair amount of subtle character work. If I'd picked it up with no background knowledge of the fandom conversation about the title, I'd have been very excited for where it was going.

I liked the links back to how part of what prompted Tim to move out was Bruce being fussy over Tim having been shot in the throat in Batman #125. That felt realistic and a nice little link between titles.

As far as a story goes: I didn't mind it. Parts of it were very obvious, especially when you clued into the themes - if I'd actually been reading it as it came out and had a month between issues for things to soak in, I probably would have been tapping my toes over the reveal of who Moriarty was disguised as.

I would like to specifically dunk on both Meghan Fitzmartin and Moriarty for the detective novel writer selections, because...hmm. Kinda misogynistic there. Fitzmartin uses 6 writers for this, and 6 specific stories/franchises:-

Edgar Allen Poe – Murders in the Rue Morgue

Mark Twain – The Stolen White Elephant

Arthur Conan Doyle – Sherlock Holmes

Raymond Chandler - Goldfish

James Gelsey – Scooby Doo

Wilkie Collins – The Moonstone

What do you notice about this list, that I immediately noticed? They're all men. Who is an immediate name that comes to mind, who even had public domain stories as of 2022, who probably should be on a list like that and who also has incredible influence over the direction of the genre? Oh, I don't know, maybe Agatha Christie? (Also Dorothy L. Sayers is also right there and available, but skipping Christie?)

And once she'd built up this "it's all the detective stories" premise, Fitzmartin then went for a book code (cool!) from non-existent books (not cool). If you've just spent all this time glorying in how this is all related to Specific Classic Detective Stories, why not...use a real book code and refer to their actual stories? You've already done it for the plots! Commit to the bit!

Also I spent a good chunk of issue #4 staring at the page going "Carol Donovan? You mean Deb Donovan's judge daughter who recently appeared in Mariko Tamaki's 'Tec run? Tim, how are you missing something this straightforward? Also she's dead?" and then it never came to anything. Maybe do a quick check if anyone else has been using the name you just invented for the story.

"I even tried making a new costume for myself. It doesn't fit." - I did find it interesting that Fitzmartin was once again playing with the "is it time to move on" themes for Tim that were popping up around here in various conversations. Especially given she had Tim and Dick relitigate their conversation from Urban Legends #10 and similar themes in DC:YJ. It does suggest to me that she was working her way around to getting Tim into a new identity, but cancellation has once again left that in the 'not happening' basket.

In terms of the art: Riley Rossmo was the wrong pick for the title, but I do see the thought process that led into him getting the nod for the opening story, given the whole claymation villain set. It was very 2D animation style. I don't mind Rossmo (and interestingly he's developing a whole line up of detective stories he's done art for, given he's also had a Martian Manhunter book and got Wesley Dodds, he did one of the Batman/The Shadow crossovers...) but his highly malleable art style loses a lot of background detail or makes what is there harder to parse.

I did very much appreciate the way Rossmo drew Tim's detective work, though. I liked the technique for highlighting details and clues, and it actually very much reminded me of how some computer games present clues (including how it's done in Gotham Knights, in fact).

I know everyone has said this, but Bernard needs to develop a personality AND to commit to whether or not he knows Tim is Robin. Because sort of hinting that he knows, while Tim worries about hiding things from him, but not actually confirming either way is only really acceptable if you actually do build up to a big reveal moment where the whole drama has been paid off.

I did appreciate that MegFitz had clearly taken feedback and returned one of Bernard's two pre-existing personality traits (conspiracy theorist who thinks the Bats are urban legend cryptids), because one of the weaknesses of using Bernard, a side character with 6 preboot appearances, is that at lot of his existing personality was sketched in. He was a conspiracy theorist, and he desperately wanted to be popular but wasn't, so he presented himself as having a Cool Guy's Personality (see: 'your step-mom is hot'). Now, Meghan Fitzmartin wants us to read into that second trait as a facade that Bernard was putting up to deal with the fact he was gay and hiding it, probably even from himself, at the time. Which, fine, it's a perfectly reasonable reading of Bernard (and to her credit, MegFitz has Bernard spell it out a little on page in TD:R), but the problem is...you've just lost one of the two identifiable traits of 'Bernard' and it hasn't been replaced with anything else. And while 2004 in comics was still trying to hold onto the Urban Legends reading for the Bats to an extent (though it was failing), 2022 comics has so long since abandoned it that Bernard having kooky theories about Batman's connection to Mothman or whatever is very...why?

And because both of these pre-existing personality traits are under strain from the context, it really is sort of necessary to give Bernard something else about him for people to latch onto for his personality. And it doesn't really seem to be there yet (as of #6). It's the same complaint that people have about Jon/Jay and a whole host of other partners for recently out superheros: they're generically pleasant, supportive and bland, with about the depth of a mirror. Give me some of the toxic drama the 30 year old lesbians are allowed. Where is my breakup over custody fights with an ex and one of the two getting seduced by a vampire.

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

1. something awful

warnings: nothing, but there might be suggestive content

summary: in which people suspect the singer Y/N Stella left the Miami GP after party earlier because of Lando

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 3.3k

✧ next up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . MAY. 　⁺ 　 . ✦

INSTAGRAM

paddockgirl

❤️ by user1, ynfan2, landonorris and more

paddockgirl: Spotted: the ever-dazzling Y/N Stella, slipping away from Miami’s hottest ticket—Lando Norris' maiden F1 victory after-party—way earlier than expected. Draped in designer and with her usual charm, the pop starlet didn’t stay to bask in the post-win glow. Instead, she was seen hurrying off alongside Bella Hadid and Y/BFF, each departing in separate cars.

Was the night too electric, or was something more simmering beneath the surface? With those hurried steps and that unbothered demeanor, it seems Y/N was in a rush to leave the celebrations behind. No word yet on what—or who—might have prompted her sudden exit, but in the world of fast cars and even faster whispers, one thing’s for sure: the story doesn’t end here.

You know you love this,

XOXO, the paddock girl

click here to open comment section

user5: ok is it just me or she looks disturbed?

user3: ok what is going on

landofan4: WJAT IS THE MIAMI GP WINNER DOING IN THE LIKES???????? WTF

ynfan8: lando liking this means something.... right?

ynfan10: add fire to fuel lando!!! we love to see it

landofan3: god what is happening???

ynfan8: some fans (like myself) think they have a relationship

ynfan15: yeah sure if they're dating why would she leave her boyfriend's VERY FIRST F1 victory after prty tho??

landofan7: lando like this if you're going after her ❤️ by landonorris

landofan11: SHUT UP HE DID NOT

TWITTER

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

it was long past midnight on May 6th, the night after Lando’s maiden victory.

the party had been good—electric energy, laughter, your father in his element, proud beyond measure—but you couldn’t stay in that stuffy, cramped place for another second, so you slipped away quietly, not warning anyone other than andrea amd zak to step into the cool night air outside the club.

the city’s hum was faint, the night, chilly. you looked at your phone screen to check the time: 1:12am.

you quickly ordered an uber, the car arriving minutes later. as you slid into the backseat, you felt the weight of the night sinking in. your mind wandered back to Lando—his smile, the way his eyes sparkled when he took off the helmet, how he looked so free and so alive, how you hadn’t been able to pull your gaze away from him all evening. there was something about him, something that made you feel all the things you didn’t want to feel, and it was getting harder to ignore.

Lando always made you feel like he completed something inside of you, like you could sit and listen to him talk for hours, just staring and memorizing his perfectly crafted features just so you could have the chance to do it all again in your dreams—the sweet ones and the wild.

you let all your armor fall near him, you let him see you and in return he… existed; he didn't have to do much to satisfy you. and he had no idea that his "baby boss" was falling more and more in love with the person he was every day.

the uber ride was quiet, the streets almost empty at this hour, and your mind couldn’t focus on anything else except the way Lando’s laugh had filled the room earlier, how effortless he made everything seem. as the car stopped in front of the hotel, you paid the driver and stepped out, feeling the chill of the night air hit your skin.

you didn’t want to go back inside. not yet. not when the night felt like it was still unfolding. so you found your way to the hotel’s poolside, the water reflecting the soft light from the overhead lamps. you leaned against the edge, arms folded, gazing up at the dark sky, the stars scattered like whispers above you.

it was quiet here. peaceful. no one else around.

so you just took the moment in: you let out a soft breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest.

how was it that he could make everything inside you feel so real? it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. but every time you looked at him, every time your eyes met his, you could feel it—something more than just friendship, more than the playful teasing. it was becoming harder to hide, harder to pretend it wasn’t there.

you stayed there laid and thinking for about an hour, letting the cool air settle around you, trying to push all the thoughts of him aside, but they kept circling back. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or how he made you laugh, it was something deeper. something you didn’t know how to handle yet. but you didn’t want to fight it either.

you were at peace until a stepping noise caught your attention.

you blinked, slightly startled, as Lando dipped his feet in the water next to you, his gaze locking onto yours with that signature mischievous grin. his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, and there was a casual swagger to his movements, even in his slightly drunken state.

“what are you doing here, norris?”

“shouldn't i ask you that, Cinderella?” he smirked, his voice teasing yet warm, the kind of charm that was both effortless and infuriating.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed the fact that you were glad he showed up. “don’t call me that, Lando.”

“why not?” he leaned back, getting comfortable. “you ran off after midnight! it's the perfect nickname actually, if you stop and think.”

“no it's not,” you shot back, the corners of your mouth twitching in amusement.

“should i stick with baby boss then?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he glanced over at you, waiting for your reaction.

your heart skipped. baby boss. he always said it so casually, yet it carried a weight to it that you couldn’t quite shake off.

"it's not baby boss," you sighed, trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered. "but whatever, I’m sure you’ll call me something equally ridiculous anyway."

Lando just shrugged, unfazed by your resistance. “it’s either that or Cinderella. take your pick.”

you shook your head, but the warmth spreading in your chest told you that, somehow, it didn’t really matter what he called you. the sound of his voice, the way he spoke to you like no one else did—like you were someone important to him—was enough to make you feel something you couldn’t name.

"you’ve really got no filter, do you?" you muttered, feeling the tension between you start to shift. there was something about him that made it impossible to stay distant, something that kept pulling you in, even though you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“why would i?” Lando grinned, unabashed. “filters are overrated.”

he turned to look at you again, his gaze locking onto yours with that effortlessly charming look that made your heart race.

you two were there, under the midnight sky, staring into the universe's infinite darkness, the soft hum of distant waves mingling with the steady beat of your pulse. the quiet was almost deafening, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.

and yet, even in this peaceful, still moment, there was a strange intensity in the air between you and him. it wasn’t the alcohol or the high of the night’s events; it was something more—a quiet understanding, a shared breath.

“filters exist so we don't sound stupid, or insensitive. it's made so we know what to say and when to say it. they're not overrated,” you explain.

Lando’s lips quirked up, his eyes never leaving yours. “oh, c'mon, baby boss,” he laughed, rolling his green eyes, glistening with amusement. “there's gotta be a small bit of you that's like... shameless or something.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but deep down, the way he looked at you made it hard to stay detached. you took a breath, the night suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

“maybe,” you admitted, staring out at the water.

Lando shifted slightly on the beside you to get a better look at you. the warm glow of the pool lights danced across his face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and the mischievous glint in his green eyes. he was so close now, his arm resting lazily on the edge of the lounger, his gaze steady on yours.

“then, quick, quick. tell me something awful,” he urged again, his tone playful but low, as though he was sharing a secret with you.

you hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. you wanted to match his energy, to keep it light, but the weight of the night and his persistent gaze made it impossible to hold back. before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“lost my virginity with a guy who only did me because he felt sorry for me.”

the moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. the air seemed to shift, the playful spark dimming as Lando went still. he didn’t laugh, didn’t smirk or tease like you expected. instead, his brows furrowed slightly, and he looked at you like he was trying to piece together how anyone could make you feel that way.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the silence. “i didn’t—”

“it’s fine,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting the moment to linger in the rawness of your confession. your eyes dropped to the shimmering pool water, the ripples almost hypnotic. “really. it’s... a long time ago.”

there was a pause, the kind that made the air between you feel heavier. Lando didn’t move, didn’t look away. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, softer, like he was sharing something equally intimate.

“you deserve so much better than that,” he said, his words careful but full of conviction. “i mean... i wouldn’t do that to you.”

your eyes flicked back to his, and the sincerity there caught you off guard. Lando wasn’t teasing now, wasn’t trying to be charming. he meant it.

you let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the moment, but it sounded more like a sigh. “thanks, i guess,” you murmured, your voice almost getting lost in the gentle rustle of the breeze.

Lando tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “no, i mean it,” he said firmly, leaning in just slightly. “you’re... all due respect, hot as hell.”

his words hit you harder than you expected. it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it, like he was genuinely baffled that anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary. you swallowed, your chest tightening in a way that made you feel vulnerable but also... safe.

“you’re full of surprises,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, but your voice wavered just enough to betray the emotion building inside you.

“just being honest,” he shrugged, that familiar grin tugging at his lips again, though his eyes stayed soft. “besides, you know me, Cinderella—no filter. shameless.”

you smiled despite yourself, your fingers brushing over the cool metal of the marble floor.

“what's your big secret, Norris? your awful thing,” you asked, prompting yourself on one of your sides so you could have a better look at him under the midnight hours.

did he look handsome? as usual.

his tousled hair framed his face just right, the perfect mix of messy and deliberate, matching the black dress shirt, wrinkled and unbuttoned, as if it naturally rebelled against perfection.

the soft glow from the pool lights danced over his features, catching in his green eyes and making them look impossibly vivid, like they were lit from within. his cheekbones looked sharper in the low light, and the subtle curve of his lips held that ever-present smirk, the one that seemed to say he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

“oh, so now you want my dirty laundry?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“fair trade, i guess,” you shot back, the corners of your lips twitching into a smile.

for a second, his expression shifted—something darker, something more intent flickered across his face. before you could fully register it, he leaned closer to you, barely blinking as he moved toward you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft but curious as your heart began to pick up its pace.

he didn’t answer. instead, he stopped once you could feel his breath against your face, his eyes locked on yours. his beautiful face was so close now that you could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

your breath caught with how he looked at you, his gaze intense but not unkind, the teasing smirk replaced by something that felt... heavier. his voice was low when he finally spoke, almost a whisper but laced with unmistakable intent.

“i know i’m drunk and you're my boss' daughter but... god, i wanna take you upstairs so bad. take that dress out of your body… you do things to me, y/n, do you have any idea of that?”

the world around you seemed to fade into the background, the gentle ripple of the pool and the faint hum of the city swallowed by the intensity of the moment. Lando’s words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying, as if the universe itself had paused to watch what you’d do next.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. his proximity was dizzying, his scent—a mix of cologne, champagne, and something uniquely him—invading your senses. you tried to find your voice, but the way his green eyes bored into yours made it nearly impossible to think straight.

“Lando...” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

he didn’t move, didn’t blink, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes, and you felt your stomach flip.

you blinked, trying to process the raw honesty in his words. the Lando you knew—the easygoing, cheeky driver who always had a joke ready—was nowhere to be found. In his place was someone far more vulnerable, someone baring his soul without hesitation.

“you're drunk,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered. “you don't mean that.”

he shook his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping his lips. “maybe i am. but i’ll still mean it tomorrow. and the day after that.”

his voice still low, intimate. his eyes searched yours, daring you to look away. “you think i haven't been biting my tongue for months? pretending you don’t make me feel like i’m losing my mind every time you walk into a room?”

your breath hitched. you wanted to say something—anything—but the truth was, part of you wanted him to say it again. part of you wanted him to act on it, consequences be damned. and that terrified you.

“i—” you broke off, shaking your head as you sat up straighter, trying to put some space between the two of you. “Lando, we can’t.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “why not?” he asked, his tone calm but challenging. “because you’re andrea's daughter? because i drive for mclaren? or because you’re scared?”

the question caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses crumble just a little. “i’m not scared,” you lied, your voice trembling slightly.

“liar,” he said softly, his lips curving into a knowing smile. but there was no malice in his tone, just a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten.

you looked away, your gaze falling to the water, the reflections rippling like your thoughts. “this... whatever this is—it’s complicated. it’s not supposed to happen.”

“maybe not,” he admitted, his voice steady. “but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the moment. you wanted to argue, to tell him he was being reckless, that nothing good could come from this. but the truth was, part of you didn’t want to stop him.

the carefully constructed walls you had built to keep your feelings for him at bay were crumbling, and you weren’t sure if you had the strength to stop it.

“lando…” you began, but he cut you off, leaning in again, his voice urgent now.

“tell me you don’t feel it too,” he said, his green eyes boring into yours, his vulnerability laid bare. “tell me i’m imagining this, and i’ll stop. i’ll walk away right now.”

you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. you couldn’t tell him that, because it wasn’t the truth. you felt it—the pull, the tension, the way his presence made everything else fade away. and now, under the soft glow of the pool lights, with his gaze locked on yours, it was impossible to deny it.

“at least admit it’s there. admit i’m not crazy.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and in that moment, you couldn’t lie.

“you’re not crazy,” you said softly, your chest tightening as the words left your lips. “it’s there.”

a silence fell between you, heavy and loaded with everything left unsaid. for a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you suspended in the weight of the confession.

then lando let out a shaky chuckle, a mix of relief and maybe something deeper.

just as you felt his lips brushing against yours, the moment was shattered by the sound of footsteps approaching.

“there you are!” oscar’s voice called out, his tone light and oblivious.

you and lando froze, barely inches apart, before turning to see oscar standing in the doorway to the pool area, clad in a matching pajama set and a sheepish expression.

“fuck’s sake,” lando breathed under his breath, so quiet only you could hear it.

oscar’s eyes flicked between the two of you, slowly piecing together the tension in the air. “oh… uh, sorry to disturb your peace,” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “but… your father told me to look for you, y/n. he is worried because you weren’t in your room.”

lando ran a hand down his face, muttering something incomprehensible before glancing at you, his expression unreadable now. you swallowed hard, the weight of what had almost happened still lingering between you as you nodded at oscar.

“right,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you smiled. “thanks, oscar. i’ll, um, be there in a second.”

oscar nodded, casting one last curious glance at lando before turning and disappearing back into the hotel.

“great timing,” he muttered, his tone half-joking but tinged with disappointment.

you bit your lip, unsure what to say. the moment was gone, but the tension wasn’t. and you knew it wouldn’t be so easy to push it aside.

“umm… maybe we can do it again, some time?” he joked, his tone light but his eyes searching yours as he got up.

he extended his hand to you, his fingers lingering in the air, waiting.

you hesitated for a moment before reaching out, your hand slipping into his. the warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet effortlessly.

“yeah, yeah,” you replied, attempting to match his casual tone. “maybe when you’re not drunk?”

lando chuckled softly, the sound low and almost self-deprecating. “fair enough,” he said, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before darting away.

the air between you was still thick with unspoken words, but his attempt to lighten the mood was enough to ease some of the tension. even so, as you let go of his hand, you couldn’t ignore the lingering spark that stayed long after.

“i might need to get some air before i go inside... today was one of those days,” he smiled faintly, his hands slipping into his pockets.

“sure, yeah. congrats on the race, again. i’m proud of you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

his eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile breaking through the fatigue. “thank you, y/n. it’s good when baby boss is proud,” he teased, a playful glint in his eye.

you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “good night, lando.”

“good night,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before you turned and walked away, leaving him to the quiet of the night.

as you stepped inside, your shoes on your hand, the cool air of the hall wrapped around you, but it did little to chase away the warmth his smile had left behind.

it wasn’t just his words or the way his eyes lingered—it was the quiet understanding in his voice, the unspoken connection that hummed between you. even as the door clicked shut behind you, you knew this moment would follow you, echoing in the corners of your mind long after the night had faded.

[clockwork-ashes]

Of Fire and Poison - Part II

Read on Ao3

Summary: Prompted by one of Elain Archeron’s visions, the Night Court decides it’s time to remove Beron Vanserra from Autumn’s throne. Azriel must learn to tolerate being in the presence of his oldest enemy, but he comes to find that spending time with Eris is not what he expected.

Note: My first time writing a multi-chapter azris fic!!! I’m very excited about it, so thank you for reading <3

Tag list: @the-darkestminds / @secret-third-thing / @lady-of-tearshed / @jules-writes-stories /

Eris winnowed into his chambers clumsily, stumbling in an effort to maintain his balance. He reached for the uneven stone wall behind him, grounding himself to keep from falling to the carpeted floors. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled into the empty space, cringing at the way it sounded. 

Dragging his sleeve roughly across his face, Eris wiped away the trickle of blood that leaked from his nose and over his mouth. He frowned as he noticed how the scarlet stained the rich fabric, making the lovely forest green resemble a muddied brown. 

Watch how you speak to me, child.  

His father’s words had been a blade, slicing through the carefully crafted layers of restraint Eris had worked so hard to build. The weight of the night’s confrontation pressed down on him, suffocating. The taste of his own blood was sharp, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, checking to make sure they were all still there. He waited a moment, letting the emotions slip away from him like a steady rainfall. 

In a ragged breath, Eris pushed himself away from the wall. He staggered toward the fireplace, pulling his ruined jacket off, trying to ignore the way his muscles screamed in protest. He tossed it carelessly onto the armchair set by the hearth, wincing. His side ached, and the throbbing along his jaw made him think that it was sure to leave an ugly bruise.

Eris ran a hand through the curls of his hair, allowing his own magic to slowly heal the marks his father had left. He rolled up his sleeves, focusing on each of his movements. He decided that he needed a strong drink, something that would quickly temper the heat that continued to build deep within his chest. 

Before Eris had the chance to search for the bottle of cognac he usually kept in the bottom drawer of his desk, a whisper of movement had him pausing in his steps. A barely perceptible shift in the darkness had him straightening, amber eyes flicking around the dimly lit room, narrowed to predatory slits. 

The faintest of shadows in the corner of the room captured his attention. Darkness was everywhere, flickering as the flames in the fireplace danced, but there was something different about the shadow that Eris was unable to tear his gaze from. 

It seemed to ripple and move with a mind of its own. 

Eris remained still as stone, feeling as the shadows stirred behind him, their looming presence familiar. His heart stuttered in his chest, his reaction instant, almost reflexive. His hand shot out as he turned swiftly, grabbing Azriel by the throat and slamming him against the stone wall with a force that seemed to shake all the furniture in the room. 

Azriel didn’t flinch. His face was unreadable, an impassive mask that gave away nothing. Eris noticed that despite the icy facade, there was a tension in the other male’s stance, a slight wariness in his shoulders that betrayed him. 

Eris offered Azriel a wolfish smile, pressing him more roughly into the wall. The torches flared to life at his silent command, bringing vicious light into the space. “Always a pleasure, shadowsinger,” he drawled, taunting. Azriel ignored him, gaze flicking briefly to the blood that stained the white collar of his shirt. 

The other male met Eris’s eyes, his mouth turned downwards into a deep frown, just visible beneath the shadows that wrapped around him like a cloak. 

“What happened to you?” The spymaster’s voice was a haunting whisper, each word grating like the sound of dead leaves scraping along a path of stone. 

They were so close now, so impossibly close, that Eris could feel the heat of Azriel’s breath. He could even see his own flaming gaze reflected in the dark mirror of the other male’s eyes. It was an amber ring, a bright beacon as lovely as a shooting star. 

Eris was surprised that the words weren’t mocking, that there was even a hint of concern dripping from his tone. 

For a moment, everything seemed to blur. Eris’s grip on Azriel’s throat loosened, but he didn’t dare release him. Something in the air, some strange recognition, kept them both rooted in place. 

Eris didn’t answer, and Azriel didn’t make a move to break free from his grip. Instead, he stared at him with that same unreadable expression, head cocked to the side, as though he were still waiting for an honest response. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered in the dim light, the shadows clinging to him. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to say something, Eris shattered the silence. 

“I don’t take kindly to uninvited guests,” Eris’s voice held a quiet warning, the raw edge of his anger still there. “How many more times must I find you lurking in the shadows of my home?”

Azriel’s eyebrows twitched, almost imperceptibly, as though he were considering the question. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he brought up his gloved hands so they could grip the forearm Eris still had pressed against him. His wings moved, and the shadows around him seemed to shift in response. He no longer resembled a phantom, the dark peeling back to reveal the male beneath.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice,” Azriel replied, his gaze never leaving Eris’s. “You could say it was a theory I wanted to test.”

Eris’s heart thundered in his chest, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered how much trouble he would bring to his door if he decided to snap Azriel’s perfect neck. 

Thin shadows twisted around his wrists, as if they could track his thoughts and were ready to protect Azriel should Eris go through with his idea. He wondered how sentient the little creatures were. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of Azriel’s heart beating steadily, unafraid.

Eris released Azriel suddenly, the movement sharp and quick. He shoved the other male back with a scowl, watching as he remained silent once more. Azriel didn’t stumble, didn’t falter, but his gaze shifted to the blood still staining Eris’s shirt.

Eris turned so that his back was to the shadowsinger, fairly confident he would stay where he was. He took a deep breath, bringinging his hand to the tender skin of his jaw, glad that the bruise no longer felt as raw. He stepped toward his desk, anger at his father still simmering beneath his skin. He yanked open the drawer with a snap, his fingers finding the bottle of cognac easily. He twisted the cap off in a practised gesture, the sharp scent of the amber alcohol hitting his nose as he took a deep drink. The burn of it spread through his chest, settling his agitation just enough for him to think clearly again. 

Eris leaned back against the desk, allowing some of the tension to leave his muscles. Instead of offering a glass to the shadowsinger, he held the bottle out towards him. Raising his brow in question, he spoke. “Did you want some?” 

Azriel’s eyes flickered briefly to the bottle, and although he took a step closer, he didn’t respond to what Eris had asked. “You didn’t send a letter,” he said.

Eris paused with the bottle nearly to his lips, amber eyes narrowing. “What?”

“The Night Court wondered,” Azriel continued, voice steady. “If you’ve reconsidered our bargain.”

Eris gave a soft laugh, the sound bitter. “The Inner Circle has kept me waiting for years.” He set the bottle down with deliberate care. “When I don’t immediately do as you’ve asked, you all seem so quick to worry.” 

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, although when he spoke again, his voice was calm, a dangerous edge to it. “You’re nothing if not quick off the mark,” Azriel said, his tone measured. “And still, you’ve remained silent. Not a word in months. You think that doesn’t raise questions?” 

Eris turned his head slightly, the hint of a mocking smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve had other matters to attend to,” he said with a wave of his hand, golden rings glittering. “It’s hard to find time to write letters.” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice, the rawness of it as it slipped free. 

“Your father,” Azriel said slowly, almost cautiously, “seems to have a way of dividing your attention. Is that why you’ve been avoiding the Night Court? Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

Eris’s fingers tightened around the cognac bottle again, the glass smooth under his grip. His anger was still there, a fire burning beneath his skin. 

“What I do, or don’t do, isn’t your concern,” Eris said with an elegant shrug, the pain in his side a muted reminder to watch his words. “You should know that by now. And I didn’t come here for your questions, Azriel, I came here to find a little bit of quiet.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered, something darker passing through his eyes. “Then you have my apologies, Eris.” His voice remained calm, deceptively so, as he took a step closer. The shadows around them thickened, and the air seemed to hum with an unspoken tension. 

“I haven’t reconsidered the bargain,” Eris finally said, his voice much quieter, but still laced with that same mocking edge. “But I’m not a hound that responds to the Night Court’s every wish. You should know that by now.”

The spymaster studied him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. And then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “Then we’ll meet where it’s convenient for you,” Azriel said, his voice low, final. “The border with the Spring Court. It will be... neutral ground.”

Eris’s lips twisted into a small, hard smile. “As neutral as it gets, I suppose,” he murmured. “We’ll meet there, in a week’s time.”

Azriel took one last look at him, gaze softening for the briefest of moments as his shadows swirled around him. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the dark, his presence slipping away like the smoke of a dying fire. 

Eris stood there for a moment longer, the weight of the conversation still heavy in the air. His hand clenched around the bottle of cognac once more, but this time, the warmth of the drink did little to ease the churning in his stomach. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest, and he had to stop himself from rubbing at his sore ribs. 

Eris frowned, wondering why Rhysand and Feyre would have assumed he needed to be reminded of their plans to remove his father from the Autumn Court throne. Bargains that were to be sealed in blood were not, he thought, easy to forget.