#trophy fic
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WIP Wednesday!
Tagged by @sophiainspace thank you!
Not sure if this will be in the final draft or not... but here's something from Trophy!
Barry opened his eyes “No.” He looked around, taking in his new surroundings with a mounting horror. “No, no, no, no–” The events of earlier were coming back, shattering his entire world all over again, a world that was spinning before his eyes. “No, no, no, please–” He didn’t know who he was begging, the universe, the speedforce maybe– anyone who could undo what he couldn’t.
@negative-speedforce @vexic929 @shrinkthisviolet @i-hate-happy-endings @practically-an-x-man no pressure of course !
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"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.
Dick stares at him. "Huh."
"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.
"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.
Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—
Huh.
"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.
Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."
Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.
In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."
And Dick understands.
Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.
"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."
Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#fic prompt#writing prompt#dc x dp prompt#dick really got a kid now huh#dick: oh wow how did you get in here#danny: *fist down a cereal box and cheeks syuffed full eith food* wdym#he annoys dick during his police hours#he doesnt even blink twice when he later catches him tyring to sneak in as nightwing#dick got the most chill kid ever#dick telling bruce of how easy danny is: :D#dick then finding out about every horrifying and downright traumatic wvent in ddannys past: D:#hes calling connie raven and black canary#for the ghosts and much needed therapy#dick abt danny: what a good kid!#dick abt danny after: oh god youre traumatsied#he's parenting so hard he should get an award#tbf danny gives him a makeshift trophy with “best officer pops.ever” in glittery pen
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Danny steals Tim's splean
So Ra al ghul is a petty asshole, everyone knows that, so it's not that far fetched that when he cut out tim's splean he had someone collect it, put it in a solution and keep it as a trophy
This is where Danny comes in
So Clockwork send Danny to clean up some corrupted ectoplasm that leaked into one of the universes in the infinite realms
When he was there saw some weird crap but he didn't bother taking much note
Until he saw the organ in a jar, it was interesting and he wanted to show it to Sam, she would loose her mind over this
.
.
.
The Batfam had no idea how to react when Ra's Al Ghul and a group of his assassins barged into Wayne Manor and asked which one of them took Tim's splean back
...
YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SPLEAN!!!
#danny phantom#danny fenton#fic prompt#daily prompt#dc x dp#dp x dc#dc#funny#tim drake wayne#ra al ghul#Ra mistakes danny for a member of the batfam#danny dosent know whatvhe caused#Ra kept tims splean as a trophy#Danny decided to steal said trophy
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feminism and miguel o'hara are 2 things that cannot and do not coexist in my brain at any given second, they either take turns or im dead
#the trophy wife fic do be doin things to me#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine
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mini-fic!
Cal and Merrin training, from Greez's POV.
1k words.
Cal and Merrin face off in a small clearing not far from the Mantis. She has a staff in hand, new and sturdy, just picked up from an outpost market, and Cal has…nothing. In fact, his lightsaber sits next to a nonchalant Cere, who’s scrolling through a holopad, seemingly unaware that Cal is about to get his ass kicked by an armed Nightsister.
Their resident Jedi Knight is a powerhouse, sure, and Greez is thankful every day he’s on their side, but without his lightsaber… Greez takes one look at the situation and decides he really don’t want to know.
He asks anyway.
“Training!” Cal says without opening his eyes. Greez isn’t going to question it. Not this time. Nope. Merrin watches Cal closely, one end of her staff buried in the soil, her hands folded on the other end so she can rest her cheek on the back of them. She waits patiently.
They all seem to be waiting for something. Even Greez, who still has no idea how this qualifies as ‘training.’ And Cere, who still doesn’t look up from her ‘pad, takes a serene sip of her drink. She’s probably using some freaky Force thing to sense what’s going on.
Cal looks like he’s meditating standing up. Deep, slow breaths. Calm expression. He keeps his hands lowered, like he’d used them to direct his breaths and then left them down on the exhale. Greez has seen Cal and Cere on early mornings, moving in sync with each other as they go through a fluid, tranquil set of movements without their lightsabers. It always started and ended with them directing their breaths like that.
Greez moves next to Cere, feeling like an intruder, but unable to stop watching.
The atmosphere is calm. Poised.
Then Cere says, “Go.”
Merrin is fast. She kicks her staff up and swings fiercely, devastating even without her magicks. She’s aiming straight for Cal’s head –
– who doesn’t karkin’ move. Greez lurches, a shout on his lips, but Cere puts out a hand to stop him. Wait and see, she doesn’t say, but Greez knows that look.
Cal dodges without opening his eyes. Minimal movement, languid in a way Greez’s never seen before. Merrin’s eyes flash in determination and she’s quick to go in for another strike. He dodges again, body twisting, never taking more than a couple centimeters more than he needs to avoid her staff. Greez’s heart eventually calms as the two of them move in tandem. Like a dance. An elegant and mesmerizing back and forth.
It could almost be a performance. Something specially created for a dramatic stage.
Eventually, though, Cal’s calm expression starts to pinch. Mouth twisted into a grimace, sweat beads up on his forehead and darkens his training top. He falters. Dodges a second slower. Moves a little further out of the way than he was before.
Merrin swings her staff just has hard, just as fast as she has been, but Cal doesn’t dodge in time. He flinches and stumbles – and Merrin’s not stopping.
That determination slides into panic, Merrin’s eyes widening, but the momentum is too quick even for her. She tries to change the target from Cal’s head to somewhere safer, like his arm, because a broken arm is better than a broken skull, but she’s too fast and he’s fumbling and –
Just before the staff connects – it wasn’t going to make it to his arm, Greez realized with a sick horror – it flies out of Merrin’s grip into Cere’s hand. Holopad and drink forgotten, Cere twirls the staff in one hand before she plants the edge into the dirt. Greez hadn’t even seen her move. Hells.
Cal drops to the ground, heaving for breath. He groans out a heartfelt swear in some language Greez doesn’t recognize – Greez discovered early in their mission for the holocron that the kid knew way too many languages. Seriously, a kid that young, five years on a backwater planet like Bracca or not, shouldn’t know so many languages! Let alone all those karkin’ swears.
“Language,” Cere scolds mildly. Cal just groans again. “What happened?”
He props himself up on his elbows, hair in disarray and the side of his face speckled with dark soil. Merrin carefully pats the soil off the back of his head, her movements stiff. “It started to feel too easy, and I panicked,” he admits. “I started overthinking.”
“How do we fix it?”
“…Don’t do that?” Cal offers, grinning. Cere raises an eyebrow. He takes Merrin’s hand and allows her to heave him up. Greez doesn’t miss the way he subtly squeezes her hand in reassurance before he lets go. “I got complacent. If there was another opponent, I would’ve been taken out a lot sooner. It was only the Force and Merrin, and I freaked when I realized I didn’t know anything else.”
Cere nods. “In other words, you sank too deep. That’ll only be fixed with more practice. You can’t do that in the middle of real combat.”
Cal sighs gustily. “More practice,” he agrees as he holds out a hand and Merrin’s staff comes flying to smack into it. He twirls it with a flourish before presenting it in a low and dramatic bow to an amused Merrin just to make her smile. She does, helplessly charmed, before she quickly twists it into a smirk as she takes it back, a faint blush on her cheeks. Cere hides her own smile behind her hand.
“Next time, maybe don’t aim for his head?” Greez suggests.
Merrin looks disgusted by the very idea. “Then how will he learn? Training must prepare you for battle. If you do not fear for your life in training, then you will not fear for your life in true war. You will die.”
Cal laughs loudly over Greez’s sputtering. “Yeah, Greez, how will I learn? Merrin, aim for the head any time.”
“With pleasure. Someone must knock sense into you.”
Greez drags a hand down his face in despair. What did he get himself into?
#cal kestis#cere junda#nightsister merrin#greez dritus#sw jfo#jfo fic#my writing#had this idea in my head when getting the one with the force trophy#dodging while using focus sight#I had to look up what it was called to write that tag#and realized I got his starting position wrong then quickly rewrote that part lol#pre survivor post jfo#canon is mine to command#so as long as it makes for a good story
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Steve was a fixer.
But when it came to fixing things, he was lacking.
People? Great.
The bathroom sink? The car? His favorite sweater? Not so great.
But Eddie was a fixer, too.
And he could fix things.
When Steve’s bathroom sink started leaking, Eddie came over to replace a part of the pipe.
Steve watched as he concentrated on removing the piece that was broken, his tongue poking out of his mouth in a way that made Steve’s heart flip.
When it was fixed, Steve offered to pay him, but Eddie just glared at him and took a beer from the fridge before leaving in his van.
When Steve’s car started smoking on his way home from work, he took a left instead of a right at the fork in the road to get to Eddie’s trailer.
Eddie spend the next hour tinkering away, breaking a sweat, causing Steve to have a heart attack while he watched.
When he finished, Steve offered him the cash in his pocket and was given a shake of the head and an offer to come inside for a drink.
He would’ve been stupid not to take the offer.
But out of everything, his favorite sweater getting a hole in the shoulder was the most devastating.
He wore it to bed, to the store, even to work when he was dealing with a migraine. He wore it during every season, during any event. He’d gotten endless compliments on it for two years running and he’d be stupid to part with it.
So the hole in the shoulder had to be fixed.
Unfortunately, Steve’s only needle and thread were for stitches. Despite his ability to stitch a wound close in minutes, he couldn’t stitch cloth together to save his life.
Did it make sense? No.
So, he took a chance.
He called Eddie, reigning in the sudden indescribable panic in his voice, hoping that he didn’t sound incredibly ridiculous.
“Yep.”
“That’s how you answer your phone?”
“When I was almost asleep, yeah.”
Steve glanced at the clock. Shit. It was almost midnight. He hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time he got out of the shower.
“Sorry, man. Um…I’ll call you in the morning.”
Steve started to hang up but stopped when he heard Eddie yelling on the other end.
“Harrington! Wait!”
“Okay…”
“Is everything good? You’ve never called this late.”
Steve gulped. He hadn’t actually called him before for anything other than trying to find one of the kids. This was entirely out of character and Eddie would be extremely suspicious if he didn’t explain.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s…fine. Totally fine. Just had a favor to ask.”
“Ask away.”
Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. This wasn’t what he’d prepared for at all.
“So you know my blue sweater?”
“The one that brings out the gold in your eyes?”
Well. That’s certainly. Something.
“I…guess? Um. Anyways. It’s got a hole in it and I figured you’re pretty good at fixing things so. Maybe you could fix that?”
The silence on the other end wasn’t promising and Steve was considering just hanging up and driving over the cliff at the quarry when Eddie finally spoke up.
“Yeah, can do. Just bring it over in the morning.”
Steve should’ve accepted that. This was already a nice favor, it was encroaching closer to midnight, and this was a sweater he didn’t even need to wear right now.
But for some reason, Steve’s brain couldn’t let this go until morning.
“Would it…be okay to like. Bring it now?”
Silence again.
God, he was so fucking stupid.
He sounded certifiably insane. Like, send him to a psychiatric hospital crazy.
“Never mind. That’s so. Just. Never mind.”
This time he did hang up before Eddie’s silence could say any more.
The phone rang less than a minute later and he ignored it.
He could never talk to Eddie again. He’d have to learn how fix things now. Bathroom sinks and cars, and now this sweater that ruined his life.
Then the phone rang again and Steve decided he had to be an adult about this.
“Harrington residence.”
“Steve, you know it’s me.”
Steve sighed. “Yeah.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll bring my sewing kit.”
“What? No! You don’t have to do that. I’m sorry, it’s not an emergency, I don’t know why I acted like it was.”
“Be there in ten.”
And he was. He probably broke every speed limit between his trailer and Steve’s house, but Steve didn’t care because the panic that had settled deep in his bones was already dissipating.
Without saying a word, Eddie invited himself in and walked up the stairs to Steve’s room. Steve ran a mental inventory of every single thing currently on his bedroom floor and thanked his past self for cleaning up the day before.
When he entered his room, Eddie was already sitting on his bed, sewing kit placed next to him, sweater in hand. He was inspecting the hole, which in hindsight, was barely there at all. Eddie was going to laugh at him. Or leave and never come back. Or both.
“Not so bad, but I can see why you’re worried. This placement is right on the seam of the collar. Could’ve torn the whole thing if it got caught on something.”
And then Eddie got to work.
Steve just let his words of comfort wash over him.
Had he been silly about a tiny hole in a sweater that could be replaced? Maybe.
But Eddie acknowledged that no matter how silly it was, he was allowed to be worried.
No one had done that before. Not even for things he genuinely should have been worried about.
Steve slowly sat down on the bed, being careful not to disrupt the focused flow Eddie had going.
“Thanks for doing this. I really didn’t think it was that late.”
Eddie shrugged. “No big deal. Already almost fixed.”
He remembered Robin telling him about Eddie helping her sew a patch on her band uniform not long ago, and how Dustin said Eddie had sewn all his own patches on his denim jacket. A small hole in a sweater would be nothing.
Only a minute later, Eddie was handing the sweater to Steve with a small, tired smile.
“Like new!” He threw out his arms dramatically.
Steve examined the sweater, amazed to see it genuinely looked like nothing had ever happened.
“You’re amazing.” He looked up to see Eddie blush.
“It’s just a basic stitch. I could show you at a more reasonable hour if you want.”
Steve could learn. It probably wasn’t that hard. And Eddie seemed good at it, he barely even had to think about this fix.
“But then I wouldn’t get company at midnight.”
Why did he say that? Jesus Christ, why did he say that?
That was beyond desperate, borderline creepy, and Eddie would definitely never talk to him ever again.
“You can call me anytime you need company, Stevie.”
Hm.
“I could always use your company.”
What was going on? This felt like openly flirting in a potentially dangerous way. They were alone, it was just past midnight, Steve had been fantasizing about Eddie for months. All the pieces of the puzzle pointed to taking a chance.
Or whatever.
“I’m pretty tired. Could I stay here?”
It felt like a very sharp turn from where they were in the conversation. Steve stared in confusion.
“Uh. I mean yeah. Yeah, that’s great, actually. I can take the guest room.”
“Didn’t you just say you could always use my company?”
Steve huffed out an awkward laugh. “I guess I did.”
“Unless you didn’t mean it, I could just stay in here with you.”
Steve’s brain short-circuited, static filling his ears. Bad idea.
“Yeah. Okay.”
His mouth was now functioning without permission from his brain, which may actually be a health concern.
As Steve changed into the sweater Eddie rushed over to fix, Eddie shucked off his jeans and t-shirt. Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak a look. It’s hard not to when the person you lo…like a lot has such a tiny waist staring back.
They wordlessly got in Steve’s bed, Eddie naturally falling on the side by the door. He had no interest in getting under the covers, apparently, since he curled up against one of the pillows more on Steve’s side, and let out a sigh.
Steve stared at the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly as he completely settled into sleep.
He’d tell him in the morning. Maybe.
But for now, he’d appreciate the company in his bed.
And in the morning, when he found every article of clothing that needed to be fixed, he went to his fixer with a smile and eventually, a kiss.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ao3fic#my fic#tumblr drabbles#headcanon#housewife Eddie but trophy wife Steve#the real otp
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@into-the-midst
for the scene of Draco amongst the trophies in ch14 of Within the Hollow Crown
#i finished the entire fic in 4 hours#4!!!#it's too good...#pov voldemort i guess???#if i could have draco like that id want to collect him as my trophy wife too <3 <3#back off mcgruder#bless you for this fic#drarry#my art#draco malfoy#fic rec
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https://www.tumblr.com/httpiastri/746212709248401408/hes-so-baby-girl-in-this-i-need-him?source=share
nono.... i think the people would like you to start speaking on his hands bc... um. i am thinking a LOT of thoughts right now.
lili 😭 i really shouldn't let my thoughts about this run free 😭😭 i have tried so hard to only post arms/hand/neck pics of oscar bcs that's who i started this blog for but... i may have slipped a few times...... and it's getting way too hard to hold back
lemme just insert these pics and then disappear bcs if i start to think about this... i will be up all night......
#he has really pretty hands honestly#the veins and the length and just#it's not too much imo it's all just perfect#them wrapping around the trophy or the champagne bottle….#doesnt get me thinking about something else… no no……..#i mean like tbh i wrote a full fic *just* from the thought of his fingers and hands and arms……..#🙃🙃🙃🙃 nah im very sane about it#trying not to freak out rn#lili <3#asks!#paul aron
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need me a fem! skk ballet and/or figure skater au so bad yall dont understand
#my mental illness is hitting and i think this will cure it#been spinning it in my head#imagine fem!chuuya in these beautiful outfits doing jumps and spins and being all graceful in the air IMAGINE it rn this is a threat#and my fav girl failure dazai being like :OOO n thinking thats my future wife up there !!#or dance duo skk grrrgrrrr#n the way the public catches on that there is something going on is bc when one wins first place they run straight to the other to#give them the medal or trophy#and ofc they r like 'just so u know who is better' and they they make out in the changing rooms#broooooooo i need i need this so bad#figure skater fem!skk au call that shit yuri on ice#... wait a second#bsd#skk#fem!skk#pebbles (me) ramblers#i need this so badly 😭😭😭#honestly wasnt uuuuh the other side of paradise (?) chuuya a dancer ?? gotta check#gotta finish the fic actually#o7 mission received me im going
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I FUCKING DID IT GUYS
AND IT'S STILL THE FOURTEENTH FOR ME SO I'M GONNA COUNT THIS AS A SUCCESS-- HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARRY AND HERE'S THE WORST PRESENT EVER
Tagging some moots and people who have shown interest in this fic. Love you guys and thank you so much for the support <3: @negative-speedforce @the-feral-gremlin @vexic929 @kindestwalkingmentalbreakdown @alittleflashvibe @localcanadiancryptid22 @elutrosop @cloverofhope
Tags and such are below the cut
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Major Character Death
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
Characters: Barry Allen Hunter Zolomon Cisco Ramon Joe West Iris West Caitlin Snow Earth-2 Harrison "Harry" Wells
Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort Angst Whump Blood and Injury Alternate Universe - Zoom Wins Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Episode: s02e23 The Race of His Life Character Death Imprisonment Captivity Barry Allen Needs a Hug Barry Allen does not get a hug Barry Whump it's all Barry whump Unhappy Ending Bad Ending Other Additional Tags to Be Added Beta read but we still die like everyone in this fic
Summary:
“A remnant?” Zoom stood over him, blue lightning flickering over black leather. “Nice try, Flash.”
or
Zoom wins and everyone suffers the consequences
#IT'S HERE#I DID IT#FIC SHIT#TROPHY FIC#MY POSTS#THE FLASH#the flash fanfiction#barry allen#barry whump#hunter zolomon#I may have had a secret goal to post the first chapter today#my fanfiction#happy birthday barry
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I think I'd love to write a fic where Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang are the ones to fish out Binghe from the Luo River after the Abyss instead of Qin Wanyue.
I'd love to see how Tianlang-Jun copes with the fact he accidentally found his son. I'd love to see a Luo Binghe confused at who tf these people are. And a Zhuzhi-Lang that's just trying not to freak out.
I wonder how this would change canon. Would Luo Binghe leave them to continue his plan to take over Huan Hua? Would he stay with them? Would Tianlang-Jun feel differently about him if he met him earlier? Would he try to get closer? Would Zhuzhi-Lang suffer having to mediate between these two? (The answer to the last one is yes)
I'm a hopeless sentimentalist at heart lol, i think I know what route I'd go with. I don't think my own writing would be character, but man, this would be so self indulgent.
#though there is still the question of sqq and zzl's massive crush on binghe's future trophy wife#lololol#the shenanigans that could occur#anqels ramblings#eva.txt#theo's fic ideas#svsss#luo binghe#scum villain#scum villain self saving system#tianlang jun#zhuzhi lang#mxtx
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sometimes, DMs about niche content spiral into DMs about even niche-r content and now there's a delightful Minthara/Florrick country club/suburban power couple AU written by @athenas-only-daughter so obviously I needed to draw them in their preppy swag
#fic rec#minthara/florrick#there is one (1) universe where they can be happy together and it's terrorizing everyone else at the country club#old money Minthara is the trophy wife here despite appearances otherwise#thirst trapped myself as tennis dresses and polo shirts are >>>>
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19. dare
nsfw x
"I dare you to text Christian." Max says, his eyes narrow slits, gin & tonic clasped in his hand. His cheeks are flushed, but Daniel watches, in the moonlight eclipsing their Monaco balcony, as they become a slight tinge darker.
"Text him what?" Daniel asks.
Knowing Max, it could be something insane, stupid, dumb. Tell him you're abandoning the reserve driver role to replace Pierre at Alpine, is one thing. Offer to babysit his kids next race weekend, is another. Ask him how many more race weekends Checo has to fuck up till you're put in the car, is the one Daniel wants him to dare him to do.
Daniel could have sit for hours, drink another whole bottle of wine, and come up with thousands of things Max could choose to dare him to do. But when Max says, "A photo...of us," Daniel audibly gulps, feels his own cheeks become filled with blood, and blinks slowly.
Christian knows. And Daniel knows. That Max and Christian--used to. When Daniel left. Then Max won. And Daniel and Max started again. Max and Christian soon stopped.
Daniel has lain below Max, as Max has kissed has down his neck, over his chest, recounted the stories. Grasped both their dicks and jerked them off whilst whispering to Daniel all the lewd things they did together in Christian's office. Daniel left Red Bull, left Christian, left Max, left Max, and had felt king of the world, left his once loyal subjects shocked. But they had coped--without him.
Had found each other.
Then Max had found Daniel again. Daniel had come back home.
And it was in that first factory visit, when Christian had ordered the cameras away, that Daniel was faced with the starkness of it all. Looked around and thought --
You pushed Max to his knees right here and fucked his face.
Max has bent you over this desk and cum inside you
You both jerked off into Max's first WDC trophy over here.
Looked around and thought when will that be me.
He knows, sitting here now, he's been played, toyed with, by both Max and Christian. That the lingering touches at the small of his back as Christian guides him around the paddock were meaningful. That Max's continuous insistence they should fly out to Oxfordshire soon and visit Christian and Geri is purposeful.
"Which photo baby?" He asks. He wants to crawl under Max's t-shirt and feel his chest heat up, hear his heart beat impossibly fast, as Max has to explain he doesn't want Daniel to send a normal, innocent selfie of the two of them.
He settles for walking over to him, leaving his wine on the side table, and watching Max's legs opening wider instinctively, so that Daniel settle between them. He leans over him, kisses him harsh and fierce, feels Max moan into it, and then gets down on his knees, bites down on Max's thigh and relishes the sharp intake of breath Max takes, then lavishes his tongue over it.
"The one we took in front of the mirror Monday night?" Daniel asks, kissing further up Max's thigh. Daniel stood fully naked, Max on his knees, Daniel feeding him his dick. You can't see Max's face, but you can see the way his hands grip Daniel's thighs tightly, his perky ass, the way he sits so pretty whilst he takes it.
Daniel looks up, locks eyes with Max, and Max shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth.
Daniel moves to the other thigh, bites, licks, kisses.
"What about the ones from Miami?"
A triumphant win for Max. One to silent all the people who suggested Checo would ever be in with a chance of the championship. They'd both gone out together afterwards, swarmed into a party attended by influencers, engineers and DJs galore. Max had pulled Daniel into a private bathroom cubicle, bent Daniel against the sink, and whimpered when he saw Daniel had already prepped. The photo is a mirror selfie, Max rucking Daniel's shirt up and coming across his back.
"No." Max responds, his voice quiet and high.
Daniel nuzzles into Max's clothed dick, feels where it's hard. He sits back on his legs, hands resting in his lap and pretends to think hard.
"Australia, my place?" He finally asks, and Max's head moves rapidly, nods quickly.
"Yeah, yeah that one. He'll like that one. That one Daniel." Max looks so eager in front of him, so desperate. Daniel doesn't even question if this is the right or wrong thing to do, if it's fucking weird to send your boss a picture of you and his star driver fucking.
Just reaches for his phone, goes to his locked album, and selects the photo, clicks Share, and opts to text it to Christian.
A blissful week where Max had stayed behind after the Australian GP, let Daniel drive him around in his beat up truck and show him the sights. He'd re-applied sun cream every hour to Max's pale skin, even though Perth was entering Autumn. Had watched pleasantly as Max had eaten gloriously, ordered Daniel's favourite sandwich from Daniel's favourite cafe, got three scoops of ice cream from the best deli in town, devoured Grace's cooking and comfortably asked for seconds.
The photo--golden hour. Settled on Daniel's porch swing. Covered in golden sunlight. Both of them stark naked, Max's back to Daniel's chest, Daniel's hands wrapped around Max, one twisting his nipples, the other jerking him off. Max's arm around the back of Daniel's head, tangled in his curls, pulling him impossibly close. They'd been kissing, but in the photo, this one screenshot Daniel had taken from the video, Max's mouth is wide open, a loud shout of Daniel's name falling from his mouth as Daniel had hit his prostate perfectly. They look glorious, blissful, hot. Daniel only has to look at the photo and can jerk off to the memory of it all. Doesn't need to watch the full video.
He ignores Max in front of him, can see in his peripheral vision the way he's palming at his dick a little, a small wet patch coming through his shorts, knows he's remembering it all as well.
Daniel opts to just stare at the photo.
Watches Sent turn into Delivered. Watches Delivered quickly turn into Read.
Watches a grey bubble appear with dots.
My beautiful boys. He reads.
"My beautiful boys." He repeats to Max.
"Do you think he'd like the video?" He asks.
#i think i hate this acc and if it lasts the night then god speed#but i just wanted to try something new and have been thinking about the wdc trophy scene for a while so thought fuck it.#max/daniel#but also#max/christian#and max/christian/daniel#dr#mv#ch#fic rec#my fic
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years after Amok Time events, when Jim and Spock are all married and settled, they are visiting Vulcan for whatever diplomatic reason. and we know that Spock's family is rather prominent, well, i had a thought about Jim being treated not exactly as Spock's wife but some approximation of it (trophy wife, but not at all derogatory, more like a consort) , it awakens something in Jim, may be he likes being Spock's, may be he enjoys the attention, or he does not know what to think about it at first, does not really know if he likes it or not, but as their stay progresses he gets more and more submissive - TOS always and forever, this fandom needs more sub Jim
Ooh what an interesting premise
#k/s#kock#kirk/spock#fic prompt#spirk#jim kirk#spock#space husbands#the premise#star trek tos#trophy husband#sub Jim Kirk#vulcan culture
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Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them.
I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost.
Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts
kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss
Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......
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“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”
Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”
“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”
“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”
To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”
Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.
*
Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.
Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.
This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’
When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.
Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.
What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.
Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.
“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”
On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.
Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.
*
As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).
Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”
Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.
When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.
“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”
“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”
Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”
Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.
#the trophy wife line came to me halfway through writing this and then tbh the rest of the fic became centred around#being able to get that in. bc its SO funny to me. even though it's dumb#also idk if an american audience would know who gary is or not. so i was assuming they wouldn't#carraville#drabbles#wife gary saga#<- making this a tag now. will go back and add it to the others at some point#OH also jamie getting handsy over gary being nice to him is 100% from the bit in sara's fic where they're talking about love languages#just btw
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max will purposefully strategize to get charles to win bc he wants to see him kiss the trophy
#i'm sorry i won't shut up about this fucking trophy#it's just hilarious to me#we need fics#max verstappen#charles leclerc#lestappen#f1
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