#(i am not show flitting i just wanted to write this post when i was not on mobile)

[jamminvroomvroom]

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember. 


everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

-

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

-

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

-

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

-

taglist

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i’ve removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

#lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris oneshot #f1 #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #f1 angst #f1 imagine #f1 writing #f1 fanfic #f1 smut fic #writing things #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #formula 1 fic #smut #angst #fluff #oneshot #imagine #fanfic

[wellgoslowly]

Hello! I love reading your stories and I was wondering if I could get a request please. It’s for Lockwood and Co. One day, Lockwood stumbled into a small bookstore because it was raining and there he finds the reader (and her dog, a boxer please) who owns the bookstore and they start talking and the reader doesn’t think anything about it (because she talks to all her customers the same way) but Lockwood starts showing up more often at the bookstore to just to talk to her and slowly but surely they start falling for each other. Thank you so much!!!

Bookstore Girl

a/n: this is by far the longest request I've written to date! I'm very proud of it and I'd defo be interested in writing a part two. I also just love me a good bookstore romance so this was super fun to write! i listened to the song bookstore girl by charlie burg a lot while writing this!! also there's quite a bit of tea related discussions and I have never made tea so pls don't scream at me I am simply american and unexperienced.

pairing: lockwood × fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none

notices: a character in this oneshot uses neopronouns [ey/em]!! if you don’t know what they are, please check this out- and if you don’t support people who use neopronouns, do not interact. If you comment hate, you will be blocked. neopronoun users are valid and loved on my blog, and I won’t tolerate hate of any kind. if you use neoprouns- know that I love you and you will always have a place in my writing (as a person who goes by they/she/ey)

tags: @ikeasupremacy @oblivious-idiot @givemea-dam-break @tangledinlove @neewtmas @losticaruss @waitingforthesunrise [if yall want to be tagged when I post requests, lmk in the comments! also sorry if I forgot anyone!!]

It was a slow, rainier-than-normal London afternoon when you first met Anthony Lockwood.

“Hi there… Would you happen to have anywhere I could sit and… dry off?” You had been shelving what was left of a new shipment of classics you had just received when you’d heard a distressed patron behind you. “Oh yes, of course.” You said as you turned to face the customer, suppressing a laugh at the sight before you. A handsome figure stood behind you, their dark long coat absolutely dripping as they wrapped it around themselves, trying to salvage some sense of warmth. “We have a cafe in the back, follow me… and try not to drip too much.” You joked, and goddamn, of course the pretty customer had a pretty laugh.

“Apologies, uh… ma'am.” He said, noticing the pronoun pin on the strap of your apron. “I was just walking home and the storm came out of nowhere and one of my roommates broke my umbrella last week… long story.” They explained as you led them to the small cafe situated in the rear of the store. “Would you like anything? Cocoa, Tea?” You offered as they sat down at a small table near the entryway. “Oh, tea would be perfect, thank you.” They spoke, and you couldn’t help but notice the rapier attached to their hip as the sheath scraped gently across the hardwood floor.

“How do you take it?” Nellie, your best friend, business partner, and head barista, asked from behind the counter. “Hm- surprise me. However you take it is fine.” The customer said with a smile. You slipped behind the counter, brushing past Nellie as ey flitted about looking for the secret stash of eir favorite tea that ey always keep hidden, only taking from it on “special occasions”. Nellie winked at you as you slipped into the backroom, looking for the spare blanket you always keep back there for cold winter days. You rolled your eyes and shooed Nellie away, causing em to laugh. Finding the soft reserve blanket, you turned to take it to the sopping wet customer, only to find Nellie blocking your way.

“What are you doing?��� Nellie asked, a slightly mischievous glint in eir eyes. “Getting our dripping wet customer a blanket. Why?” You asked, suspicious of Nellie’s train of thought. “He’s nice. Asked me my pronouns and told me he goes by he/him. He’s pretty cute too.” You scoffed. “What does that have to do with anything?” You laughed, causing Nellie to roll eir eyes at you. “You never let anyone use your blanket, not even me.” You laughed again. “Yeah, Nellie, well, you’re never sopping wet when you ask. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to our customer.” You say, brushing past Nellie and ignoring eir laughter as you walked out of the backroom.

When you returned to the main floor, you noticed that the customer was no longer alone. “Bruce, leave the poor guy alone.” You laughed, watching as your dog, a Boxer, jumped up, front paws landing on the customer’s lap as the customer laughed. “It’s not a problem, honestly. He’s quite cute.” You smiled, handing the blanket to the customer, who took it with a soft “thank you” and an appreciative smile.

“I'm glad you think so. Some of our older patrons don't like that we have a dog around, but I could care less.” You say, bending down slightly to pet Bruce on the head as he jumped down from the customer's lap. “Is he yours?” The customer asked as he wrapped the blanket around his body. You nodded, sitting down at a chair opposite the patron.

“Yep. This place, too.” You said with a cheerful smile as Bruce jumped into your lap. “Oh! I had no clue I was in the presence of the owner.” You laughed, scratching behind Bruce's ears. “No, I'm serious, that's really cool. I run my own business too, but it's not… quite like this.” He chuckled, almost to himself, glancing down at the rapier on his hip.

“Wait- you run your own agency?” You asked, intrigued. You had vaguely heard of agents running their own agencies, but you hadn't necessarily believed that someone your age was capable of running something like that. And yet it kind of made sense, taking in his appearance- the long coat, white button down, black tie, and slightly too-tight pants gave the desired effect of making him look slightly older and a bit more authoritative.

He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Anthony Lockwood, of Lockwood & Co, at your service. Most people just call me Lockwood.” You smiled, shaking his hand in turn as Bruce grumpily whined at the loss of your hand. “[Name], of Read Rose Books. Pleasure to meet you, Lockwood. You know, I think I've heard of you. You did the Annabelle Ward Case a while back, right?” He nodded, a sparkle appearing in his eye at your mentioning of hearing of his agency. “Yes, that was us. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, [name].”

“And I'm Nellie.” Nellie had a knack for sneaking up on you at the worst times, and that day was no exception as Nellie had somehow crept up behind you without a sound. ~~The customer~~ Lockwood himself didn't seem to notice Nellie's presence, jumping about 3 feet in the air at eir arrival. Nellie set down Lockwood's tea, and he thanked em before taking a sip.

“Oh my god, this is amazing.” He said, turning to Nellie. “How did you do that? I've never tasted anything like it before.” You could see Nellie beam at Lockwood's praise, and you couldn't help but smile. “Secret recipe” was all Nellie said before ey flounced back behind the counter.

Lockwood chuckled, taking another sip. “George- one of my housemates, would love em. He's really into cooking too- makes all sorts of elaborate meals that always taste amazing.” You chuckled, looking back at Nellie. “Even I don't know what Nellie puts in there- ey've never told me.”

“If there's anyone who could get the recipe out of Nellie, it's George. He's an insanely good cook, and he loves tea more than the average person.” You both laughed softly before Lockwood spoke up again.

“Speaking of George, do you have a phone I could use to call home? Just to tell my housemates where I am.” “Oh, of course! Follow me.” With a distressed whine from Bruce, who had to depart from your lap, you got up off you chair and led a blanket-clad Lockwood over to the front desk, where your store phone was located. “Thank you so much, I should be quick.” He said, picking the phone up. “Don't worry about it, take as much time as you need.” You assured him. “I'll be right over there stocking some classics if you need me.” He nodded, and you walked back to where you had been dutifully stocking the beautiful new editions of Pride and Prejudice, making a mental note to leave one aside to purchase later for your own personal collection.

You were still within earshot, so you could hear most of the conversation that Lockwood was having (not that you were purposefully eavesdropping, of course- it was very quiet in the store so it was very hard to try and not hear his conversation. You did try, though.) Lockwood's conversation started with a “Hi George, I wanted to let you know that I'm ok-” before Lockwood was promptly cut off by a loud voice shouting at him, causing Lockwood to jump and have to hold the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Hello to you too, Luce. Look, I'm fine- I got caught in the storm and *someone* broke my umbrella on that case last week so I had to seek shelter before it got too bad. Don't worry- I'm at that bookstore in town… The one George has been wanting to check out? Read Rose? The staff has been very nice and helped me to warm back up but I'm not sure when I'll be able to come home with how the storm is going.” A moment of silence followed as someone- Lucy, you assumed- spoke to Lockwood. The quiet was broken only by the sound of books being pushed into their respective slots on the shelves.

“No, no, Lucy, you are not coming to get me. I don't care if you broke my umbrella, I won't allow you to walk over here in the rain- Lucy? Lucy?!” And then Lockwood let out a frustrated sigh and put the phone back down on the receiver. You looked back up at him, stifling a laugh at his exasperated expression. “I guess one of my housemates is coming to retrieve me.” He laughed, running a hand through his still-wet hair as he looked outside at the still raging storm. “From what I could hear, they sound very stubborn.” He chuckled. “Oh, she is. Lucy is insanely stubborn, believe me.” You laughed, liking the picture you were putting together in your head of this Lucy already. “To be fair, something tells me you're fairly stubborn yourself.” You chuckled. Lockwood gasped, putting a hand to his heart. “You wound me.” He said, and you both fell in to laughter.

Your laughs subsided after a moment, and you fell into a comfortable silence as you stocked and Lockwood walked around, perusing the aisles of books. You two stayed like that for a couple of minutes, and you had never been more content to just be quiet with someone before. “Now I understand why George has been bugging me to visit here for so long. We haven't had much time- cases have been piling up so George is either at home or at the Archives most of the time these days.” You nodded in understanding as he took a book off a shelf near you and examined the cover.

“I get it. Not the agency work- I don't have any Talents. The stress, I mean. My grandmother owned this place and passed it down to me when she passed. Every day there's something new to take care of or a new problem that comes up.” You laughed as you put the last book on the shelf. Lockwood laughed as well. “I know exactly what you mean. You love it though, don't you?” He asked, turning to you. He smiled as your eyes met his, and you gave him a smile in return. “Yeah,” You said softly. “I really do.”

He grinned, and was opening his mouth to say something when there was a sudden noise at the door, and then there was a borderline soaked girl holding an umbrella standing breathless in the doorway. This must be Lucy, you thought to yourself. She was obviously righteously pissed, her hair dripping as she tried desperately to control the bangs that were matted to her forehead. “Lockwood, you idiot.” She said, shoving the umbrella at Lockwood and turning to face you. She sent a look Lockwood's way, which you translated to say something like “who is this?”. Lockwood smiled.

“Lucy, this is [name], owner of Read Rose Books. She and her friend Nellie have been very welcoming and helped me to get warm. [Name], this is my associate, Lucy Carlyle.” Lucy rolled her eyes, elbowing Lockwood in the ribs and whispering something like “you can just introduce me as your friend, you dickhead” before she turned her attention to you, smiled, and stuck out her hand for you to shake. You did, softly saying “nice to meet you”, as did Lucy. “Thank you for taking care of this one.” Lucy said after your handshake had ended, pointing to Lockwood. You laughed. “It was no problem at all, really.”

Lockwood moved to return the blanket you you, but you refused. “You need it more than I do. Just make sure to return it whenever you can, ok?” He smiled appreciatively, nodding in understanding before Lucy grabbed him by the arm ans hauled him to the door. “Thank you again!” Lockwood yelled at the same time Lucy said “Have a nice night!”, and then they were out the door and the shop was silent again.

Nellie was there within seconds, pressing a warm cup of cocoa into your hand. “I'm never getting that blanket back, am I?” You asked em softly. “Probably not, no.” Ey agreed.

---

It was a week until you saw Anthony Lockwood again.

It was sunny outside this time, and you had a pretty nice crowd going inside the small Read Rose venue. You were just finishing up a customer's transaction, barely had the words “have a good one” out of your mouth, when you saw him enter the store. He had on the same outfit, but his hair was more styled, in a totally not attractive way. He was entering the shop with someone who you didn't recognize. They were slightly shorter, with brown skin and curly dark hair and glasses.

You noticed the second that Lockwood found you, watching his eyes light up and a smile form on his face as he waved. You waved back and returned the smile when you saw what Lockwood was carrying in his left hand.

“I was thinking I'd never see that blanket again.” You joked as Lockwood and his companion walked up to the front counter. Lockwood chuckled. “I see how little faith you have in me.” He spoke as he passed the blanket over to you. “Well, she's not exactly unfounded. Remember that time I leant you a sweatshirt and I didn't get it back for a month?” You laughed as you placed the folded blanket on a shelf beneath the counter, not seeing Lockwood sharply elbow his companion in the ribs.

“Anyways, [Name], this is my best friend and business associate, George Karim. He's the one I told you about that's really good at cooking. ” You reached out your hand for George to shake, but he ignored it and turned to examine your store. Within seconds, he was walking away to an aisle that had caught his eye, leaving you behind with Lockwood as you yelled out a rushed, “it was nice to meet you!”

Lockwood smiled apologetically. “Don't mind him. He's au- he can be a bit brash, but he's a good guy, once you get to know him.” You smiled back as you waved your hand in a dismissing manner. “Don't worry about it. I hope I do. Get to know him, that is. Lockwood & Co. seems like a very fun bunch.”

All Lockwood could do was smile before George returned, informing you that they would be back soon but they had a case that night that they had to prepare for. You nodded in understanding. “I'll look forward to your next visit. Be safe out there.” One last dazzling smile from Lockwood and he was gone, being borderline pushed outside by George as you laughed.

---

It went on like that for weeks- at least once a week, Anthony Lockwood would wander into your shop, only once or twice actually buying a book. You got to know each other fairly well- you learned that he hated sugar in his tea, that he always wore pink socks, that he didn't always wear suits, and that he started wearing [favorite color] ties whenever he came to visit after you told him it was your favorite color.

You learned that his favorite genres were classics and mystery (and that he had a bit of an obsession with gossip magazines). Often times, he would come in right before closing a couple times a week and sit and read with you to pass the time before you closed and walked you to your flat a block away.

Every time this happened, Nellie would leave work a half an hour before you and give you a set of totally non-subtle winks before flitting off into the sunset. Lockwood never seemed to notice eir suggestive winks, and if he did, he never appeared too flustered.

Nellie would corner you every morning after, grilling you for every detail. “Why do you even care?” You would say, laughing as you unlocked the storefront. “Because a super hot guy is obviously falling for my best friend!” Ey would exclaim, and you would roll your eyes and laugh it away, making sure to change the subject while you tried not to dwell on the possibility that Nellie was right.

---

“Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite bookseller. Do you ever take a day off?” You laughed from your perch on one of the bookshelf ladders, looking down to see Lockwood standing below you, a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. You laughed. “Hi, Lockwood. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You bent over, grabbing a book to put up on the top shelf.

“I was sent by George to search for a book he was looking for.” Came the reply, not an uncommon excuse. You turned to reach for another book to stock, but you realized that Lockwood was holding out a book for you. “Thank you.” You said softly, and he looked up from the synopsis of a book in his hand to smile at you. “Of course. It seems you're a bit of a workaholic- I'd love to help in any way I can.” You laughed as you shelved the book.

“You're one to talk. Pretty much every time you come in here you've got that getup on and intense bags under your eyes.” You joked as you descended the ladder, taking the empty box from Lockwood's hands.

“Well, one needs to be a little bit obsessed to lead a top agency, don't they?” He asked, following you to the cafe. Nellie brightened as ey saw Lockwood trailing after you, calling out and asking if Lockwood wanted anything. “Yes, please, Nellie. Could you by any chance make your secret recipe tea to go? I really need to get going, but I was in the area and I just wanted to stop by.” Nellie smiled. “Aye aye, captain.” Ey said before they started the tea making process.

“I thought you came in to look for a book for George.” You said, turning to him with an eyebrow raised and a smile on your face. You giggled as you watched Lockwood flush. “Ah, yes, well, you see-” He was so caught up in his mumbling that he didn't realize that Nellie had appeared next to him, a bag in eir hand. “Jesus, Nellie.” Lockwood jumped, and Nellie chuckled. “Not Jesus- people do often get us confused.” Nellie joked before pushing the bag in front of him.

“What's this?” Lockwood asked, cocking a brow. "A gift for you, George and Lucy. For being such great patrons.” Lockwood smiled. “You really don't have to-” Lockwood started to speak, but Nellie interrupted him. “I insist.” Ey said before turning and running away before Lockwood could fight anymore.

Lockwood turned to you and scoffed. You chuckled. “Ey really like making baked goods for people.” You explained. Lockwood smiled, and the two of you lapsed into a comforting silence, taking in the slow crowd that filled in and out of Read Rose Books.

After a moment, Lockwood broke the silence. “Are you- would you be amenable to visiting Portland Row tonight?” His question caught you off guard, but you smiled nonetheless. “I could be convinced. Why? What's in Portland Row?” You asked, turning to look at him. He smiled softly, a soft flush dusting his cheeks. “Lockwood & Co. We just finished a pretty big successful case so we're throwing a small get together at the house, if you wanted to come?” He asked, and you could sense the nerves radiating off of him. You smiled, nudging his shoulder as you turned to face away from him, trying to draw attention away from the blush that was slowly spreading across your face.

“I'd love to.”

eeeek thank you so much for reading!! pls leave feedback, it truly makes my day :) also if you want to request or see my other works, my masterlist is linked in my about me post which is pinned :)

I love you all so much, remember to stay hydrated, and I hope yall have an amazing day!!! mwah

xoxo linnie <3

#lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #locklyle #george cubbins #locklyle brainrot is real #lockwood netflix #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #linnifer writes #anthony j lockwood #save l&co #save lockwood #savelockwoodandco #save lockwood & co #bring back lockwood & co #bring back lockwood and co #bring back 35 portland row #togetherforlockwoodandco #together for lockwood and co #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #ali hadji hehsmati #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood and co fandom #locknation

[sailing-through-hawkins]

had this in my head and then saw this post by @babyboyargyle so i took it as a sign to write it out! it's not perfect but it was fun (*^▽^*)

Say what you want to about monsters and killers and the apocalypse but at least this time they've got all-day access to pizza. Steve doesn't really know where this guy came from but damn, he makes a great margherita.

"Guys, this is Argyle," Jonathan introduces, waving towards a man with very, very long hair, holy shit.

Steve takes a second from hammering nails into the fifth bat that he's been tossed to give the guy a nod. He nods back, eyes flitting between the bat in Steve's hands to the bandages wrapped around his waist. But Steve's used to everyone keeping an eye on his wounds, from his stomach to his back to his arms to his head. He's a magnet for damage, that's just how it is.

"Hey man," Steve greets with a wave and gets back to hammering. "Welcome to the shitshow."

"Y-yeah," Argyle swallows with another nod. "Glad to be here."

At first, he seemed like a great addition. Argyle's funny, chill in a way that Steve hasn't experienced since '83, maybe even before that. Despite all the monsters lurking and the crackling in the air, dude kept his cool and got to work on food supplies and even teaching everyone how to do tracking shit like something out of a nature show.

But then, on their way back to the base (also known as Steve's fucking house), Jonathan's team is almost swarmed by demodogs and Steve and Robin have to run out to give 'em hell.

Ha, giving hell to the hellbeasts. Is that irony? Dustin would call it irony, Steve thinks.

After a little carnage and some (very therapeutic, according to Robin) violence, they manage to annihilate the 'dogs and get Will to throw their tracks off so they have their safe zone for a bit longer at least, but Argyle is quiet and frantic-eyed the entire walk home. It unsettles Steve, all that antsy energy building up under the surface.

Once safely inside, Jonathan and Nancy start on organizing the new supplies. It's when Jonathan manages to drop a water bottle that all that tension finally bursts.

"Shit, oh man, shit, shit, oh my god!" Argyle's pacing back and forth, hands scrunching up into his scalp which, yikes, not a good look for that mane. "This is so messed up, this is crazy, this is so messed up!"

Jonathan steps forward with a, "Argyle, Argyle, listen -"

"No, no, no, last time I listened to you, there was an open grave in front of me and now there's like fifty thousand demons out there! The world is fucking crazy right now, man, I am freaking out! I am -"

Okay, damage control time.

"Hey, hey, hey -" Steve shifts himself into Argyle's line of sight, holding his hands up and letting out a low whistle. "Dude, take a breath, alright?"

Which is apparently all the guy needs to latch his hands onto Steve's shoulders very, very tightly, holy shit, this guy's grip. "How am I supposed to breathe when -"

"Look at me, in-and-out, alright?" Steve exaggerates his own breathing, letting Argyle take his time in copying the motions. "In, out, in, out, you're doing good. It's pretty scary out here, huh?"

Argyle's grip on his shoulders tenses but Steve quickly grabs onto his wrists, gives them a short squeeze, and suddenly all that tension deflates. Which means physical contact is a go for reassurance, nice. "Yeah."

"I get it, man, I do. First time I got into this shit? I was ready to hightail it outta there and never look back, y'know?" He looks up from under his lashes, giving the guy what he hopes is a comforting smile. Judging by the hitch in his breath, it's not as comforting as Steve hopes. "But I get the feeling you're a ride-or-die type, right?"

Argyle shrugs, eyes fixated on Steve like he's the last hope he's got. No pressure.

"Look, I can't like - I can't guarantee much, wouldn't wanna jinx anything, but we're going to handle this, alright?" Damn, his hands are really warm. Is it because he's stressed? Even Steve doesn't run this warm when he's stressed, dude must be keeping a lot of anxiety under all that...weed? California weed? Whatever, focus, Steve. "It's not our first or second, not even third rodeo with this shit, we can absolutely handle it."

"You can handle it," Argyle says in what Steve thinks might be...petulant? Oh, that's fun, this guy is totally going to be fun to have around for the long haul. "Man, I don't even know what the hell is going on anywhere anymore."

Steve laughs, rubbing circles into Argyle's skin with his thumb. He's definitely wired up but that tight spark of panic in his eye is getting dimmer, so the contact might actually be working here. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think any of us know what's happening."

"How -"

"That's the thing, we don't need all the answers right now," Steve pats his wrist and tries a different kind of smile this time which, judging by the way Argyle's gulping and kind of just staring at him, might be working? Okay, fifty-fifty on that. "Just need to figure it out one step at a time."

"I don't - I'm kinda freaking out here, dude," Argyle confesses, like it wasn't kinda obvious for everyone in the room, as he lets go of Steve's shoulders (fuck, his grip is killer, there's definitely gonna be marks tomorrow) and lets his hands hang by his waist in a really sad way. Steve nods, patting his shoulder and gently leading him to the closest chair he can find (of course it's the sofa Mike left his socks on, god damn it Wheeler). "I'm not cut out for this freaky stuff, man, what if - what if we don't make it -"

"Hey," Steve says sharply, immediately regretting it when Argyle flinches at his tone. Take a breath, relax, the guy's worried, that's all. Steve softens his voice, and rubs a hand down his back when he buries his face in his hands. Huh, that's a quality shirt. "Hey, I get it. Believe me, I know how overwhelming this all is when you've got like, zero clue how it all happened. But I got your back here, dude, I'll watch your six."

And woah. Argyle snaps his face back to Steve, eyes wide and mouth just slightly agape. "You what?"

"'S kinda my job," Steve shrugs, continuing to rub his back so he can figure out why this material feels so familiar, what the hell.  "I'm the babysitter," - ignore Mike's affronted scoff, stay focused - "I keep track with the whole newbie thing most of the time. I mean like, we all got your back but y'know - like -  I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you, if that helps?"

Argyle stares at him for a few seconds, making it really hard not to squirm in the silence. Steve settles for scratching at his nose, finally taking his hand off that damned shirt, the fuck kind of brand is it?! Not important, focus, focus.

"Uh, sorry if that - I didn't mean to come on too strong or anything -"

"Holy shit, dude," Argyle breathes out, one of his (very warm) hands coming down to grip Steve's knee. "You're like, a godsend."

"Oh, uh, thank you?" Steve blinks when Argyle beams at him and pats his knee. Huh, maybe he's getting better at this comforting stuff. "Are - you good now?"

"Hell yes, my friend, I have a killer beast 'watching my six', don't I?" Argyle winks and shit, Steve's wounds must be inflaming again, his skin feels hot. "Now who's ready for some pie!"

Steve watches as he swoops up, practically glowing with such a positive energy it's kind of giving him whiplash. He stares as Argyle makes his way to the kitchen, snatching another glance back at Steve and giving him a wide grin, another wink and a salute before he disappears.

"What just happened?" Steve blinks again.

Jonathan pats his shoulder in sympathy which, uh, why? "You've just been Argyle'd."

"What does that even mean?" Steve splutters because what the hell is even happening. "And what did he mean by an open grave?"

"It's a long story," Jonathan sighs and gives him another pat. "Tell you once you help me sort out the water supply."

"The supply that you were supposed to figure out before you left, that water supply?"

"Fuck you," Jonathan grins and Steve shakes off the buzzing heat under his skin.

Everything's fine, all is cool. Just gotta keep an extra eye on Argyle.

Easy-peasy. Fuck, please be easy-peasy.

#stargyle #writing #ficlet #au content #steve harrington #argyle stranger things #stranger things #i just think it'd be funny if argyle thought steve meant he'd watch his ass instead of his back #also that argyle's panicking immediately side-steps for argyle's flirting #sailor✧writes

[blueboyluca]

@konmari-dogs's post reminded me, I read a lot of dog books this year! My biggest tip for reading more is put a bunch of books on your phone and just dip into them when you can. I think I originally got this tip from Milly, but it really works. If you are getting sick of one or need a break, you can easily flit to another. You can get a page or two while waiting for appointments or at a cafe or something. Really easy to read a lot more.

Anyway, I read a lot of crap this year but also some gems.

Hit list: The Culture Clash by Jean Donaldson. I finally read this classic. I skimmed most of the training stuff because it is a bit outdated now, but I really liked the allegorical parts, the actual bits that are why it is titled the way it is. That stuff is still really relevant today.

Dog is Love by Clive D.L. Wynne. I enjoyed this. It followed the story of how Wynne convinced himself that dogs do love us, through various scientific disciplines. I also think this guy is a compelling speaker, if a little pompous.

Wonderdog by Jules Howard. Loved this one, excellent overview of dog science throughout history. Really worth the read.

The Secret History of Kindness by Melissa Holbrook Pierson. My favourite read this year, an incredibly moving overview of the history of training dogs.

In Defence of Dogs by John Bradshaw. I started this one more than a year ago and finished it this year. It was pretty good, but a little outdated on the science now. Still worth a read.

The Great Grisby by Mikita Brottman. I enjoyed this, it was about various dogs in literature or real dogs owned by famous people, mostly Victorians. It was a fun read. The focus won't be for everyone.

How the Dog Became the Dog: From Wolves to Our Best Friends by Mark Derr. I started reading this like 5 years ago. I really enjoyed the first half then dropped off it. I finished it this year and I am glad, but there wasn't as much good stuff in the second half. Still, I reference it a lot and I love the way he writes about early dogs.

Shit list: Living with Border Collies by Barbara Sykes. This one is a mess. Very few useful ideas, mostly just batty nonsense.

Fifteen Dogs by André Alexis. This was the only novel I read this year and it was garbage. Do not recommend.

How Stella Learned to Talk by Christina Hunger. You all know I hated it. I am stunned when people recommend it to others to get into dog buttons. I thought the narrative itself was a steaming pile of garbage and I thought the tips on how to get started with buttons were vague and unhelpful. Cannot understand this fad at all.

The First Domestication by Brandy R. Fogg and Raymond Pierotti. I started this a year or two ago and finished it this year. It was a mess. I appreciated the parts where they ripped into Coppinger, but there were tons of other really questionable bits so I basically think the whole thing is a wash.

Dogs: A Philosophical Guide to Our Best Friends by Mark Alizart. It wasn't terrible, but it was quite strange. I appreciated it sent me down a few rabbit holes though. I tried reading some more philosophical books about dogs but they fall apart as soon as the authors show they know nothing about modern dog science.

Dingoes Don’t Bark by Lionel Hudson. This one also wasn't terrible but it was also kind of nothing. Not a lot of information about dingoes. I think the documentary it pairs with would be more worhtwhile. I think it's from the 70s, maybe 80s.

Still reading: Level Up Your Dog Training by Natalie Bridger Watson. This is for beginners, but I am enjoying it as another resource for my club.

The Wolf Within by Professor Bryan Sykes. This is good but thick and science heavy, so I know it will take me a long time.

Treat Everyone Like a Dog by Karen London. I am not enjoying this at all. It will inevitably make it onto my shit list one year.

What Dogs Want by Mat Ward. Really loving this very cute and modern take on basic dog care for new owners.

What the Dog Knows: The Science and Wonder of Working Dogs by Cat Warren. I am really loving this so far. It's my kind of book, a mix of dog science and memoir.

Our Oldest Companions by Pat Shipman. I am not that taken in by Shipman. I've read one of her other books and I don't find her particularly compelling. I am finding Sykes more interesting than this one.

Aesop's Animals: The Science Behind the Fables by Jo Wimpenny. This one is pretty good, not sure if I will finish it though because I read the dog and wolf chapters already.

Positive Herding 101 by Barbara Buchmayer. I am enjoying this. I got through all the beginning stuff and have finally reached the chapters that will talk about herding training.

Enrichment Games for High Energy Dogs by Barbara Buchmayer. This is good enough that it made me buy her other book. I haven't finished it yet though.

#dog books #dogblr

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting Ch.9- Courtship

T/W: Alucard(Ultimate) x F!Reader, fluff alert!, romance, heights, “kidnapping.” Lonely, mild vampire. Alucard is a shithead and you can’t even be mad.  Words: 4120 On AO3

Thank you for over 250 kudos! Not to mention all the comments and (mostly private 🤣) bookmarks and subscriptions! And the likes and reblogs too! The reception this story gets continues to astound and humble me. An incomplete fic getting all this attention! Who would have thought?! This chapter is one of the ones I wanted to write for several months. It took so long to post because I saw a scary movie trailer (“The Exorcist”) and then I was too spooked to sit in the living room alone to write at night for over a week.  I hope you guys enjoy it! As of this chapter, this story is now my longest piece of writing.

“This place is incredible.” Everywhere you inspected continued to inspire awe. From the paintings on the walls, to the details on the ceilings, or the shininess of the floors, the restaurant was lavish in the most tasteful of ways from every angle.

You finally accepted Alucard’s invitation to the Shangri-la. Fortunately, you never took him up on his prior offer to feed you properly every night. You were like a duck sitting in a nest of swans. You could dress like the rest of the patrons and act gracefully enough, but this sort of grandeur would never suit you.

A portion of the restaurant was sectioned off for your private use with Alucard, which brought about another problem. While you were thankfully shielded from the prying and admiring eyes of other guests towards your companion, you were also stuck in a public setting where you were forced to interact with him. 

You were on a date with a freaking vampire. This just wasn’t how you envisioned life would turn out.

Most of the meal consisted of him watching you eat while he sipped wine from an engraved crystal glass set on a stem of gold. Such extravagance. You weren’t one to complain though. The food was divine, the complex flavours melted into your tongue and you nearly moaned as you swallowed. 

“I see you are enjoying your meal,” he observed. The light reflected off the orange lenses of his sunglasses at such an angle that you couldn’t see his eyes through the glare. But his grin was ever-present.

Honestly, it didn’t even seem like the vampire was attempting to impress you with the fancy scenery. He was completely at ease and disinterested in the setting, like he was born into grandeur such as this. Opulence was simply a natural backdrop he was used to being surrounded by.

"Soo…vampires can turn opposite sex virgins into baby vampires, but if they bite a non-virgin, they become zombies instead?"

"That is correct."

"Who decided on this? Why does being a virgin change anything?" Maybe he was a pervert who was insecure about his sexual prowess.

The said ‘pervert’ chortled and set down the wine before his glasses followed, mirth glittering in those liquid pools. They were the colours of the autumn leaves that filled the lush treeline with spectacular shows of foliage a month ago. "You will never cease to amuse me little one. I assure you, I didn't create this rule, but it is the one we must abide by."

Damn vampire getting in your head again. The lack of mental privacy was aggravating, especially when you recalled the night he glimpsed your moment of insanity, when the briefest thought of intimacy with him flitted across your mind. 

"This rule is stupid," you told him defiantly.

The grin stretched wider, the tips of two sharpened canines poking through. “I am inclined to agree.”

You had the feeling he was reading your mind again and while you didn’t want to verbalize how much it bothered you, knowing it would predispose him to doing it more frequently, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Stay out of my head! You’re being rude!” You stabbed a morsel of meat with a fork.

He merely chuckled at your reaction. “I can attempt to refrain from doing so, but humans are so fascinating.”

“You were human! Have you forgotten what that was like? Anyways, you are planning on turning me into a zombie?!” If that was the goal, with his superpowers, he could have done so already, with or without your consent. But that didn’t make sense because he saved you from a crowd of ghouls!

An elegant brow lifted. 

So you elaborated. “You keep trying to convince me to sleep with you and you just drank my blood! You want to bite me!”

Alucard howled with laughter and pinned you with a pointed look. “You truly are fascinating, little human.”

You bristled with indignance at the way he found humour in everything you said and did, irritation making your skin turn hot. What was the point in coming here tonight if all your date did was mock you? Ever since you met this creature, it was one supernatural encounter after the other. It was all made worse by how he was privy to your myriad of thoughts. Slamming a vexed glare back to him, you found the vampire with his face propped up on a fist, staring at you with a soft expression. A tiny smile tilted the corner of his lips.

He was teasing you. And you fell for it. You felt like a foolish schoolgirl as your ire deflated, but goodness, how can anyone look so gorgeous? It was too unfair. Your fork slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, not that you wanted to stick cutlery in his face anymore.

One moment he antagonized you and the next he gazed at you like that. You swallowed your displeasure and sat up straight, eager to recover some face.

"Then how about you? Do you have a sire?"

Something changed in his expression. His eyes dulled and the smile fell a fraction, as if he really didn't like thinking about this aspect of his past. Recalling how comfortable he was with the brutal slaughter of the undead, you realized he must have an extended history with violence and bloodshed. Alucard was dangerous, and you didn’t mean what he was capable of doing to you. It seemed there were secrets in this world larger than the existence of vampires and ghouls. Concern about what you were getting yourself into if you spent more time with this vampire crossed your mind. 

But as you studied his face carefully and his mild gaze slid back to yours, suddenly you felt guilty for asking about things he wasn’t ready to share.

“Um, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

"To be or not to be, that was the question," he finally murmured cryptically.

Huh? Shakespeare?

Was Alucard referring to his decision to turn, to become a vampire? But you doubted someone so sophisticated would miss the deeper meaning behind those words and misquote Hamlet. 

…Did he too wish for death? Ironic for someone who already died once. His choice of words bothered you, but you weren’t in the headspace to ponder this point further at this time. The orangey-yellow in those mesmerizing pits swirled slowly as he studied you. The silence stretched long during this intimate moment, when you felt closer to him than he probably ever allowed anyone. You didn’t want to let it simply slip away.

“Do…do you ever miss being human? Or seeing the sun?” You ventured cautiously, not wanting to push him away when he was letting you view this other side of him, so different from his usual cockiness and menace.

“Silly child, you do not comprehend the preciousness of your humanity, nor the curse of so-called immortality.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but no, he was right, you never stopped to ponder your humanity. It was such an intrinsic part of you that was taken for granted.

“Alucard, how old are you?”

His expression once again filled with amusement despite his gaze remaining warm. “I have seen over five centuries come and go.”

Okay that was really old. Much older than you assumed. Your eyes dropped from his piercing stare as you thought back to all those times this ancient creature chased you around and attempted to woo you. Was it strange for something so old to court someone your age? Then again, were there many other ancient vampires for him to choose from? Human standards probably didn’t apply any longer.

“I haven’t lived through the ages like you, and I don’t know where I was trying to go with this conversation, but maybe I was just trying to say that I miss the day. It’s…sometimes difficult to always work at night, especially now that it’s winter. The nights are long –it’s dark when I leave home and dark when I return. And then my body is so confused once the shifts are over and too soon, it’s time to switch back to a daytime schedule.”

Alucard leaned back and crossed his legs, his chin tilting up as he regarded you. “The garish light of day will never compare to the beauty of the black night. Her generous velvet wakes the imagination and makes the senses come alive.”

“The blanket of night hides creatures such as yourself,” you stated flatly.

In his eyes, a mysterious light shone. His attention was entirely devoted to you. This vampire was genuinely interested in your words. You squirmed in your seat under the intensity of that sparkling gaze, totally unprepared for the weight of his scrutiny and you wondered what he saw in you. Unlike him, you weren’t made to live in darkness.

“When the sun rises above the horizon and beats back the darkness, or when its dying rays fade away for the night, it paints the most dazzling gradient of colours across the sky. Even at high noon, the world comes into sharp contrast through a sea of cerulean. Daylight is warm, bright, comforting.” 

“...”

You sighed in exasperation. “Do you truly not miss the beauty of daytime at all?”

"No. I despise the sun. It is a mercy that each day must die." 

You laughed sheepishly. "Ahaha. I guess debating this point is moot. You're a vampire after all."

--------------------

The rest of dinner flew by smoothly. Alucard could wield his words like a dagger, yet there was artistry in the way he spoke, an old world pattern to his speech that at times sounded like riddles holding profound meaning beyond your understanding. His intellect was captivating. You were surprised by how pleasant the conversation was when he wasn’t intentionally seeking to get a rise out of you.

He wasn’t so bad at all.

Besides the server who occasionally came to check in on the two of you, you were alone. Before you knew it, you reached out to brush away the stray strands of hair hiding an eye that gleamed like the fiery sun he so hated. Your hand twitched when you caught what you were doing, yet you don't pull away. Neither did he. After a moment, your hand dropped to cradle his cheek.

The vampire’s eyes widened fractionally before dropping to half-open. He sighed and leaned into your touch. His skin was cool, but it wasn’t unpleasant to touch. You traced circles on that strong jaw that captivated you the first time you got a good look at him in your kitchen.

Alucard was crooning and purring, nuzzling his face into your palm. The back of your fingers on your other hand rubbed up his throat to stroke his chin. 

Distantly, the server returned with something you asked for. You couldn’t remember what it was, but they left promptly when Alucard’s gaze fell on them. His hand gripped yours to keep it on himself when you tried to pull back.

"More. Touch me," he demanded. 

So you played with his hair, twirling the lustrous tresses between your fingers and massaging his scalp. You boldly traced a finger down one of his fangs, grazing the sharp tip with the lightest touch. He stayed very still for you with his lips slightly parted and lidded eyes glowing fiercely. 

It occurred to you that he was very much like a cat. He liked to nuzzle his face on you, purred like an engine, and was constantly sniffing around. He loved body heat and being pet, and had slit eyes that often blinked slowly at you. 

Would he let you? You lifted a finger at him, making the rumbling vampire follow it curiously with his head tilted. You gingerly pressed the pad to his nose before pulling away. His eyes opened up before a content grin spread over his face, and he brought his face closer to bump the tip of his nose against your fingertip again.

--------------------

It was getting late, but Alucard insisted on having you stay up with him, stating there was somewhere he wanted to show you. Imagine your shock when he immediately scooped you into his arms before you could rescind your begrudging agreement and began leaping impossible distances from building to building. The wind cut through your jacket and chilled you down to the bone. It was not meant for the weather of these late winter nights. 

Your hair billowed into your face and filled your mouth. You barely heard yourself shriek through the howling wind as you clung to the vampire’s shoulders while he took you soaring through London from up high. You peered down at the sea of lights at your feet and gulped nervously. The ground was so far away! 

This wasn’t the kind of commute I had in mind! You desperately thought to him.

His smirk was devious when he gazed down. You are safe with me. He told you with a squeeze to your legs for reassurance.

With no other warning, you were suddenly thrown into the air and you screamed bloody murder at the loss of your anchor as you started to free fall –the wind whistled into your ears and slipped past your splayed fingers. The loose ends of your clothing flapped uselessly as you plummeted back to the earth…only for your flailing body to be quickly bundled into Alucard’s red duster to protect you from the winter chill. 

He was grinning like a maniac as you landed back in his arms with a squawk. You stared back in betrayal with huge frightened eyes and resisted the urge to smack him, but only because you didn’t want to risk him dropping you again for fun. 

Still he ran, jumped, and landed on various structures, sometimes sideways or even upside down. The rapid changes in direction was disorienting and made the cutting wind slap against you, so you clenched your eyes. The laws of gravity did not apply to him. With your arms trapped within the heavy jacket, neither were you able to grab onto him for safety as the two of you hung from another overpass while Alucard traversed its underside. You were forced to trust the vampire not to let go of you. 

Somehow, you barely felt each landing before he jumped again. The longer you lay in his embrace, the more apparent it became that the ride was surprisingly smooth. 

Land. Jump.

You must now be nearing the outskirts of the city. How did he know where you were going? 

You felt the derisive snort in your head. Humans today, so lost and helpless without your electronic devices. He stopped on the rooftop of a house.

"Look there, little one," his fingers weaved a pattern in the air and you followed their trail without seeing the constellation. "Do you see that? That is Ursa Minor, which may be hard for your mortal eyes to visualize with the city lights, but that bright star at the end is Polaris. It has many names dating from antiquity. You might also know it as the North Star or Guiding Star."

He looked at you expectantly like he wanted to tell you more, but sighed and hopped off and continue his jumps when you stared at him blankly, unable to pinpoint exactly which specks in the sky he was pointing at.

Gradually, you abandoned the light pollution of the city and the sky became inky black. There was no longer any light at your feet, only the darkest abyss that was entirely opaque. Your racing heart and gasping breaths eventually eased during Alucard’s leisurely journey through the city. Together, you sailed through the sky, ascending and falling in an endless loop. It was intimidating, but the vampire’s grip was strong. You huddled into his chest, at last feeling secure cradled like treasure in his arms. 

You were blind to what was below, but up above, the vast, glittering expanse of sky stretched to infinity. Billions of twinkling stars smiled down. You considered the planets that surrounded them, as well as the moons that orbited those. You thought of the galaxies out there, yet knew what was visible was only a tiny window into the universe that existed. It was all so close when Alucard leapt into the air again, and you reached out to grasp it. 

You were so small in this world. The existential humbling was profound, yet also exciting. The night sky promised adventure and filled you with vigour. The wind still stung your face, but you screamed in joy, at the freedom granted by the stars themselves as you drifted amongst them.

That exhilaration ground to a halt when you finally arrived at your destination with Alucard.

A private airport? 

--------------------

“What are we doing here, Alucard? Where are we going?” You faced him in alarm.

“Faroe Islands,” he instructed the pilot waiting by the aircraft as he sauntered up the ramp to a jet with you in arms. You started kicking your feet in protest.

“I-isn’t that Denmark? Y-you’re just going to spirit me away to another country in the middle of the night?!”

The vampire finally set you down on a plush seat while he settled in the one across from yours. You jumped up and attempted to unroll yourself from Alucard’s duster in a frenzy, only to get tangled in the lengthy garment pooled around your feet and nearly tumble over.

“I don’t have my passport!” Any reason to dissuade him from his crazy idea. This was madness!

“Don’t worry about it.” A wine bottle floated up to arm’s reach and uncorked itself. He tipped it into a long-stemmed glass and offered it to you. You didn’t take the drink.

“You are afraid, Sweet?” He cocked a brow at you with a challenge.

You sputtered and glared at him with disbelief. “What? You’re acting like you didn't suddenly drop this trip on me! You can’t just steal me away to a different country! And I’m going to freeze to death! Do you know how far north that place is?! When are we coming back tonight? Are we returning to London tonight? Is this even allowed?!”

The vampire paused to consider, “Integra may be displeased, but there will be no issue,” he chuckled to himself.

You continued to gawp at the ridiculousness of the situation before opening your mouth to argue again. This was definitely not how you envisioned any first date, even with this creature, would proceed.

“You are fretting over nothing, Dear.” He placed a finger to your lips gingerly and strapped you into the seat for takeoff, still mostly bundled like a burrito in his jacket.

Eventually, your indignance and dismay passed. It was just like Alucard to do whatever he wished and force whoever was part of his plan in line. ”We’re going to fly past all of Scotland, and not even visit Edinburgh Castle or Loch Ness. Or the Isle of Skye!” You pouted wistfully. 

The vampire sipped his wine, his legs crossed and posture casual, until you decided to join in. After all, he already had a bottle to himself earlier. Wriggling out of the encasing scarlet prison, you took hold of your glass with a stiff fist and gulped it down in one mouthful, much to the vampire’s amusement.

You continued to grumble about being dragged out to the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold and dead of winter. 

Two hours and several glasses of wine later, the jet was landing. You felt the pressure in your ears. Alucard stood and headed for the side of the jet where the storage was, revealing a bundle of winter attire. He returned to offer everything to you.

You walked out together onto a snowy field atop a cliff, overlooking…well, it was too dark to see anything. No doubt the sight would have been spectacular if this was during the day. Waves crashed down below from what you heard and the skies were clear.

“So? You brought us here. Now what?” Displeasure at being kept awake at this hour made you snippy. The feeling was accentuated by the frosty puffs with every breath you took. There was no way Alucard brought you to the middle of nowhere only because he could, right? Right?

”Patience. They are supposed to appear tonight.”

The jet rumbled in the silence. Staring in the direction of its beam of lights, you rubbed your eyes to refocus and made out vague shapes of something. Edging closer in that direction, you gasped at the dramatic mountainous landscapes in the distance. They were marvelous, even in the dimness. The jet lights died abruptly, leaving you in darkness, except it wasn’t black. The canvas that made up the heavens came into even starker contrast than in the suburban cityscape. Glimmering starlight splattered every visible inch in the sky.

This was also a desolate location. You were far from any other souls, in a world belonging to only you and him (minus the pilot). You hunkered down in your jacket and boots, glad to finally be in proper winter attire, then looked back at Alucard with a questioning stare after glancing up to admire the speckled expanse again.

The air was too crisp. The tip of your nose stung and was beginning to run. It was freezing. The wind was even worse than the subzero temperature. Burying your gloved fingers within the crook of your crossed arms, you sniffled, resisting the urge to wipe yourself on the back of the hand. 

Your eyelids started to droop. What time was it? It shouldn’t have been long since you arrived.

“There.”

Your eyes shot up and were blessed by the most miraculous vision. A translucent layer of green light undulated in the heavens. The ribbons of light swayed ever so slowly, a ghostly apparition haunting the land. Your eyes widened at the extraordinary show, a feeling of tranquility overcoming any prior exhaustion, and your lips fell open slightly in awe. Coherent thought ground to a halt.

How can anything in the world be so breathtaking? You took back every negative comment you made during the trip here. Everything Alucard put you through tonight was worth experiencing the Northern Lights.

"Isn't it remarkable?" The vampire also appeared to be at peace, a small smile gracing his lips. When did he come this close? His large palms went around your hips as he found his place at your back. He unexpectedly placed a kiss to your neck under the scarf and you jumped from the frigid caress.

His affectionate laughter subsided as you huffed. “Rest assured, I have no intention of biting you. You will not become a ghoul with me.” His whisper sent cold air tickling your ears. He withdrew from your side to let you enjoy the view.

Having trusted him the entire night already, the vampire behind you was no longer a cause for worry. The lightshow remained enchanting. You basked in the carefree, electric dance of the auroras above and felt your tension releasing. This was transcendent. 

Your eyes finally adapted to the faint lighting. In this darkness, the aurora borealis casted a sublime glow on Alucard. His features were pale, yet refined. You blinked. His silky midnight tresses reflected the light’s radiance in a circle, almost like he was crowned by a halo. He looked like an angel.

What were you thinking? You weren’t.

You took the half-step needed to close the distance between you and leaned towards him, your head barely reaching halfway up his chest. But you craned your head way up to drown in those ruby irises, for the first time seeing him in a new light. Getting up on your toes, you initiated the kiss softly, tentatively. It was exploratory and chaste when you brushed up against his chest with a feathery touch.

His lips were cool and smooth and tasted like fine wine. Your fingers found their way into his lapels to tug him in as his palms found your hips. He was just too tall and your neck hurt. Starting with a light peck, like you were seeking permission, you deepened the kiss when he didn’t protest. Again and again, you pressed gentle kisses to his mouth.

It was an eternity until you pulled apart. There was no need for additional words. You turned to take in the heavens on earth again. His arm draped around your shoulder to pull you nearer and you leaned in with your face resting on his chest. His chin dropped on top of your head.

For now, this was enough for both of you.

~To be Continued~

Next Chapter- What Makes a Meal?

#alucard fanfiction #alucard hellsing #alucard x reader #alucard x you #hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #male yandere #hellsing alucard

[sequinsmile-x]

Backfire

Three Thanksgivings in the lives of the Hotchner family.

-x-

Hi friends, this is the third and final (for now) part of my Thanksgiving fic Backfire.

This got a little sadder than I initially intended, but I don't think that will surprise anyone.

This week has been...rough. But as ever I am grateful for this community and the distraction it provides from real life <3

-x-

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Grief/Loss of a parent

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Somewhere along the way, Thanksgiving had become her least favourite holiday. 

She’d felt the tension it brought the moment she woke up, torn from sleep by her hungry one-month-old, the baby girl demanding her attention almost constantly. Eliza was a clingier baby than Zachary had ever been, something that Emily would have once called impossible, and she was exhausted.

She yawns as she lays Eliza down on the changing table, a smile flitting across her face at the sight of the outfit, that had been bought by Penelope, that she was about to dress her daughter in. The swirling writing and cartoon turkey on the onesie so cute it made her ache. 

Mommy & Daddy’s Little Turkey.

“You’re going to hate me when I show you these pictures in about 14 years, sweet girl,” she says as she picks up the outfit, rubbing the soft material between her fingers, “But you’re going to look so damn cute I don’t care.” She feels a rush of love sweep through her as she slips Eliza’s arms into the onesie, her heart aching at how cute her daughter looks. She picks her up and rests her against her chest, “You are the fucking cutest baby on the whole planet.” 

“Don’t curse in front of the baby.” 

She turns to look at her husband and smiles, rolling her eyes at him before she adjusts her hold on Eliza so he can see her outfit, “Am I wrong?” 

He chuckles as he walks over, his hand on Emily’s lower back as he leans in to kiss her. He then stamps a kiss against Eliza’s head before he pulls back to look at them. 

“I stand corrected, she is the fucking cutest.” 

Emily mock gasps, “Don’t curse in front of the baby.” 

Aaron shakes his head at his wife, but his response is cut off as the doorbell rings, quickly followed by Jack’s voice, the 11-year-old’s excitement clear.

“Mom, Dad, Aunt Jessie and Grandpa are here!” 

She hears two sets of feet thundering down the hallway downstairs, Zachary always on the heels of his older brother, the 4-year-old always copying his every move. 

Aaron feels Emily tense in his arms, her shoulders tight as she holds Eliza impossibly closer. He kisses her forehead and cups her cheek to make him look up at her. 

“Remember sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. We can just send him home.” 

She found Thanksgiving challenging when she was at her best, something that she definitely did not currently feel. It was the only holiday when they got together with Roy, who still tried to undermine her or make comments towards Aaron at every opportunity. Emily hated it, the tension the man brought into her home enough to make her skin crawl, but she put up with it. Her love for Jack and her desire for him to be happy and surrounded by family who loved him far outweighing her own dislike for a man who made a point of being actively rude to her husband. 

Aaron had checked more than once if she still wanted to go ahead with Thanksgiving as planned. He’d even asked her that morning, his arm around her shoulder as she fed Eliza whilst it was still dark outside, a serious look in his eyes as he said he’d uninvite Roy at any time, right up to the moment he stepped foot on the porch. She’d insisted she was fine, that she wanted things to be as normal as they possibly could, but as she watches the clock tick closer to the time Jess was supposed to arrive with Roy, she wonders if she had made the right decision. 

Not only was Emily only a month post-partum and still getting used to having a newborn again, the four years since she’d done all of this with Zachary feeling like both a lifetime and a blur all at once, but it was the first holiday since her mother had died. 

Emily was working when it happened. Regulated to the office at almost 8 months pregnant, her bump pressed against her desk as she looked over paperwork she was struggling to focus on. Her phone screen lit up with an unknown number, and dread she still didn’t understand flooded her veins. Her instincts that something was wrong kicking in before she even answered the call and listened as a stranger whose voice she’d never forget told her that Elizabeth was critically ill. 

Aaron had been away on a case at the time, something she knew he still felt guilty about as if him being at home would have changed anything. He’d flown back to her as soon as he could, putting her and their family above his job, a lesson he’d learnt the hard way with spilt blood and tears. He’d held her hand as she made the decision to take her mother off life support, the roll of her baby girl in her stomach feeling displaced against the repetitive beeps of the machines around them, and her mother’s cold hand. 

Emily wondered if things would feel different if her relationship with her mother had been a good one. If they’d had the type of relationship she knew she had with her children whether she’d feel different. Grief was complicated, she knew that, it wasn’t linear or easy. But she sometimes thought her chest wouldn’t feel like it was hollowed out if she had more good memories of her mother to fall back on, if all of her favourite moments with her hadn’t all happened since she’d become a mother herself. Elizabeth may never have been the mother Emily wanted or deserved, but she was an excellent grandmother.

On some level, she was jealous of the relationship the boys had with Elizabeth, an emotion that made her feel so guilty it made her feel sick. She wished that she could miss her like Jack and Zachary did. They had no complication in their grief, no caveats. They just missed her.

Emily was angry. Furious that her mother had been capable of being the person she’d needed all along, and sad that Elizabeth had never chosen to be like that for her. She missed both who her mother was and who she could have been, the old adage that ‘two things can be right at once’ as infuriating as it was correct. 

She sighs as she shakes her head, “No, we can’t send him home, honey. He’s Jack’s grandfather, it’s Thanksgiving,” she turns her head to kiss his palm, “We can’t send him home. Plus, that would mean Jess would have to leave too and I love spending time with her, and so do the boys. And she cooked the turkey this year so we’d have no food.” 

He smiles at her and leans in to kiss her softly. He knew that she was making the decision she thought was right for everyone other than herself, her own comfort was always her last priority. He doesn’t want to argue with her though, and doesn’t want to push her when he knows she’s already more delicate than usual, something she wouldn’t thank him for pointing out. So he steps away. 

“I’ll go let them in,” he says, his smile so loving it warms her from the inside out, “You come down when you’re ready.” 

She nods and smiles gratefully, turning all of her attention back to Eliza the moment they are alone. She smiles at her little girl. 

It may be her first holiday without her mother, but it was also her first with her daughter and she wanted to enjoy it as much as she could. 

“Come on Eliza,” she says, kissing her temple, “Let’s go see the grumpiest man to ever exist,” she pauses, smiling to herself as she kisses her daughter again, “And before you ask,” she says as she starts to walk out of the nursery, “I don’t mean Daddy.” 

___

“That was the best Thanksgiving meal I’ve eaten in years,” Roy says as he sets his knife and fork down on his plate, turning his attention to Jessica, “That was delicious, Jess.”

“It was so good Aunt Jessie,” Zachary says, smiling as he sinks back into his chair, making his parents laugh as he rubs his belly, something he’d clearly picked up on someone else doing. 

“Thanks, Zach,” she says, smiling at the young boy she considered her nephew just as much as Jack before she turns to Roy, “And thanks Dad, I’ve never cooked a whole turkey before so it was quite the learning curve.” 

Aaron smiles as he puts his arm around the back of Emily’s chair, taking a quick peak at Eliza who was fast asleep against her mother’s chest, “We really appreciate you cooking, Jess,” he says, “I don’t think we could have managed it.” 

“Oh don’t worry,” she replies, “You have a new baby and have to chase my nephews around, I can handle doing the cooking.” 

Roy mutters something under his breath, but Emily doesn’t quite catch it because Eliza starts to cry, the brief reprieve she’d given them so Emily could eat, all be it one-handed whilst she held her daughter, is already over. 

“Oh sweetheart,” she says, already moving to stand up so she pace, the movement one of the few things that soothed her, “You’re okay.”

Jack stands up too, beating Aaron to it, as he offers help, always keen to be the best big brother he could be, “Do you need me to go get one of her pacifiers, Mom?” 

She sees a flash of something across Roy’s face. It’s an echo of a moment a few years ago when it was Zachary’s first Thanksgiving, his tiny face covered in mashed potato as she tried to wipe him clean, and Jack’s innocent comment aimed at his younger brother, the name Momma slipping past his lips without real meaning. He’d still called her Emily back then, the use of the moniker for his little brother’s benefit more than anything, the then baby on the brink of saying his first word. 

Jack had switched to calling her Mom a year ago. It felt like it had happened overnight, something that felt natural and wonderful all at once. He still called her Emily in front of Roy, something she knew he did to prevent his grandfather from getting upset, all of the comments he’d made over the years always lingering in the back of his mind. The empathy her eldest was capable of never failed to blow her away, his kindness so much a part of him that she sometimes worried one day it would be something that people would take advantage of. It’s a slip-up Jack doesn’t even seem aware of, his smile soft as he looks at her. 

She looks back at Roy, and watches as Jessica stares at her father, a fierce look in her eyes that has almost no effect. 

“That would be lovely, Jack,” Emily says, turning her attention back to her eldest son, wanting him out of the room before anything was said, “The clean ones are in the kitchen,” she says, and Jack nods before he runs out of the room. Emily looks at Zachary. Usually, the frown on his face, the one that made him look identical to Aaron, would make her smile, but it makes her chest get tight, the thought that her son was picking up on the tension in the room enough to make her cry, “Zach-”

Her attempt to get him out of the room, to distract him by suggesting he go to the den and played with his toys, is cut off by Roy. 

“What did he call you?” He asks, his jaw tight as he glares at her, and any usual defiance she has against the man is nowhere to be found, the crying of her baby in her arms, the absence of her mother and the usual jibes she’d throw at the man, setting her on edge. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not his mother?” 

It was something that had come up time and time again over the years. Roy’s desire to keep his daughter's memory alive so misguided he didn’t realise he was going against what she’d wanted - for her son to have exactly what he had now. 

“Roy,” Aaron starts, his protective instincts kicking in, but he isn’t given the chance when Emily cuts over him

“You know what, Roy,” Emily says, shaking her head at him, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob catching in her chest, “I don’t have the energy for this. I need to go feed my baby,” she softens when she smiles at Zachary, “Want to come with me to go feed your sister?” 

Zach nods, slipping out of his chair and walking over to his mother, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as he reaches her side. Emily adjusts her hold on Eliza to make sure she’s secure against her with one arm and she reaches down to hold Zachary’s hand. She leads him out of the room and she doesn’t look back. 

Aaron wants to follow her, but he knows she wouldn’t want him to, instead, he folds his hands together in his lap and looks at his ex-father-in-law, anger he hasn’t let himself feel in years bubbling in his stomach. 

“You couldn’t just leave it alone this year?” Aaron asks, his eyes stern as he stares at Roy, “She lost her mother a couple of months ago.”

“How long has Jack been calling her mom?” Roy asks as if Aaron hasn’t spoken, staring him down. It reminds Aaron of when he was a teenager and accidentally got Haley home after her curfew, the traffic on the way back from the concert they had been to worse than he’d anticipated. Roy was furious, yelling at Aaron for making his daughter late, for making him worry about her, and Aaron had promised it would never happen again, and that he’d always keep Haley safe. 

It was a promise he’d broken without meaning to, the shattered pieces of his already tenuous relationship with his once father-in-law destroyed beyond repair. 

“For a long time, Dad,” Jessica answers, sighing as Roy turns to look at her, “He’s called Emily his Mom for over a year.”

Roy frowns at his daughter, “You knew?” 

She scoffs, “Of course I did,” she says, shaking her head, “I babysit all the kids, I love them all. And unlike you, I can see past my own grief over Haley to see how happy Jack is.”  

Aaron smiles gratefully at Jessica and then he sighs as he turns back to Roy, “I know it’s difficult for you. But Jack came to this decision himself, he also wanted to make sure he did his best not to call Emily ‘Mom’ in front of you so he didn’t upset you.”

Roy all but growls, his frustration clear, “She is not his-”

“She is my mom.” 

They all turn to look at Jack, the pre-teen standing in the doorway with a pacifier in his hand, his grip on it tight. Aaron stands and steps towards his son.

“Jack-”

“Mom was my mom too,” he says, cutting off his father as he crosses his arms over his chest, “But so is she,” he adds, pointing towards the stairs, “I don’t remember Mom, Grandad,” Jack says, shrugging his shoulders, “I miss her but the only things I know are what you and Dad and Aunt Jess tell me. Emily…Mom is the one I remember. She’s looked after me and she loves me. And that’s what a mom does,” he frowns, seemingly unable to stop now he’s started, the words he’d wanted to say since he was too young to understand them spilling out, “And you have to be nice to her, and to Dad, and to my brother and sister or I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

His words settle around them and Roy sighs, “Jack, I’m just trying to make sure no one forgets your mother.” 

“But no one has,” he says, furrowing his brow, looking so much like Haley that it makes the three adults in the room ache, “Dad is always telling me about her and you are. And even Mom does even though she only met her a couple of times,” he adds, watching as shock washes over his grandfathers face and he sighs, feeling some of the anger in his chest go away, “She asks Aunt Jess and Dad for stories so she can talk to me about her too.” 

Roy looks at Jessica who nods, her lips pressed together, “It’s true.” 

He sighs as he shakes his head, “I’m sorry,” he says as he looks at his grandson, “I didn’t know.” 

“You never asked,” Aaron says firmly and Roy nods, clearing his throat as he avoids eye contact. Aaron looks at Jack and smiles at him, “Why don’t you go find everyone else? They’re probably in the nursery.” 

Jack hesitates for a moment, but he nods, turning and leaving the room as quickly as he’d entered it. Aaron looks over at Roy and sighs, his hands on his hips as he looks him up and down. He’d always allowed his anger when it was aimed towards him, partially because it felt like a punishment he deserved. A penance for failing Haley and by extension Roy, But he also allowed it because he knew Roy was grieving, that he’d lost his daughter in a horrific way.

It didn’t take an FBI profiler to realise he was overcompensating to make sure he didn’t lose anyone else, his anger and his short temper were side effects of so desperately trying to cling on to what he had left of his daughter. 

Her memory and her son. 

“Look, Roy,” Aaron says carefully, “I can’t imagine how difficult it is, and I know we don’t particularly like each other,” he looks over at Jessica who smothers a chuckle with a fake cough, her eyes on the ceiling as she avoids looking at him, “But we both loved Haley, and we both love Jack. Surely the fact he’s happy, which is what she wanted, should be enough.” 

Roy is quiet for a moment before he stands up, blowing out a steady breath as he nods slowly, “You’re right,” he says, clearing his throat, “It should be. And I’ll try to make sure it is going forward.” 

Aaron smiles and relaxes a little, some of the tension in his shoulders finally easing, “Thank you.” 

Jessica laughs again and shakes her head at herself when both men look at her, their eyebrows furrowed, “I’m so sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “It’s just…wherever Haley and Elizabeth are right now, I know they would have got such a kick out of Jack telling you off, Dad.” 

___

Aaron sighs as he closes the door behind Roy and Jess, briefly leaning his head against it before he makes sure the locks are in place. 

“Long day, huh?” 

He turns to look at his wife and smiles at her, opening his arms for her to slip into his embrace, “Long day,” he repeats, kissing the top of her head, “Where are the kids?” 

“Eliza is sleeping, and Jack is reading Zach a book,” she says, smiling up at him, “So we might have 5 whole uninterrupted minutes to ourselves,” she says with enthusiasm as if she was talking about a lottery win or a luxury cruise, “Want to snuggle until someone needs us for something?” 

“With you? Always,” he says, cupping her cheek and leaning in to kiss her before he leads her to the living room. They sit on the couch together and she settles into his side, breathing him in and letting his comfort wash over her, “You ok, sweetheart?”

She shrugs, because she’s really not sure how to answer the question, “I guess. I don’t know. She would have loved watching Jack tell Roy off.” 

He chuckles, “Jess said the same thing,” he tilts his head to look at her, “You heard everything?” 

She nods, her smile turning sad, “It was sweet. Zach heard too, and he asked me if it meant Jack was his real brother,” she says, her heart aching when Aaron sighs, his eyes closing as he shakes his head, “But I reminded him about Haley, how she was Jack’s first mom. He understands it all as best as he can.” 

“I wish it was simpler sometimes,” Aaron says as he opens his eyes to look at her.

“I know,” she replies, reaching up and pushing his hair out of his eyes, “But if it was simpler, it wouldn’t be our family.” There’s a cry from upstairs and Emily groans, leaning forward to press her forehead into Aaron’s chest. “That girl is relentless.” 

“Wonder where she got that from,” Aaron mutters and Emily pulls back to look at him, her eyes narrowed.

“What did you say?” 

“I said, you stay here, I’ll go get her,” he says quickly, kissing her forehead and standing up. 

She shakes her head at him as he leaves the room and sinks back onto the couch. She sighs as she looks around the room, her gaze locking on a picture from when Zachary was a baby that is framed and on the coffee table. In it, Elizabeth is sitting down with Jack on her left and Emily on her right, and a tiny little Zachary in her arms. 

Emily picks it up and she traces her finger over the edge of it, smiling sadly at her own reflection that she can partially see in the glass. She looks at her mother, at the joy in her eyes, the happiness she would have once joked the woman was incapable of and she chuckles, her vision going blurry as tears gather in her eyes. When she speaks, it’s quiet, a secret just between herself and someone she isn’t even entirely sure is watching. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

-x-

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[carsonian]

I saw from your ‘missing avac’ post that you’re a person of high culture, so - avac steve’s birthday as a prompt? I can’t decide if steve wanting to ask out tony because tony would be the best present OR if tony wants to ask out steve because he knows he’d be the best present OR if they’re already together and tony just wants to treat the birthday boy is the best choice? Or a combo of all three? Whatever you write i will explode with happiness

It's Steve's birthday! Oh shit!! I nearly forgot; your timing is absolutely SUPERB. Thank you for the prompt 😘 Here you go:

Such A Feelin' That My Love (I Can't Hide) on AO3 I 2,765 words | Rated G

Steve steepled his fingers, “May I have your attention, please?”

“No.” Tony said, not even bothering to look up from the reference book he was reading.

Steve had been prepared for this and so he brought out a bag of dried blueberries—the rare, expensive kind Tony liked because Steve paid attention to detail, thank you very much—and plopped it right onto the buttcrack of the reference book.

Tony’s eyes flitted to the blueberries and then warily up to Steve.

Idiotically long eyelashes, Steve thought, not for the first time.

“I’m listening.” Tony prompted, cracking the wrapper upon and shaking out a few blueberries onto his palm.

“My birthday’s coming up.” Steve started.

“So is America’s.” Tony interjected through his mouthful. It was a testament to Steve’s adoration for the boy that the sight of mushed up blueberries didn’t totally put him off.

“Tony,” Steve spread his hands out in a showy manner, “I am America.”

Tony swallowed, put the bag of blueberries into his messenger bag and then pointed at him, “That’s not as much of a flex as you think it is.”

“Have you decided on a gift for me?” Steve asked, returning to the practiced lines of the speech he’d written. Casual but to the point. Tony didn’t like long-winded shit. Et voilà: Steve had mastered the art of the short wind.

“Uh,” Tony said, appearing a tad self-conscious now as he added in a mollifying tone, “I thought the suit I made you was your gift? But, I suppose, if there’s anything else that you want. . .”

Tony’s generosity, used against him. Steve didn’t pump his fist, but it was a close thing.

“I do.” Steve nodded, “Thank you for asking.”

Tony’s eyebrows knit together, “Okay. You’re being even weirder than usual.”

“I’d like a date.” Steve announced.

Tony’s face set fully into a frown, “You can’t just buy ‘em yourself?”

“Wh—” Steve shook his head, “No, not the fruit.”

“Okay. So you want a romantic date. With—” Tony’s face cleared, “Oh. You don’t have to ask me if you want to date Pepper. We’re over-over and we have been for a while. You can just—"

“I don’t want to date Pepper.” Steve said, and then smiled meaningfully.

“What’s with the goofy smile?” Tony asked, and then his eyebrows shot up, “No!”

That was a stronger reaction than he'd expected. Steve straightened his back in anticipation of arguing his case but was interrupted by Tony before he could even say “To—”

“Rhodey?” Tony seemed beside himself, “N-O, no. You don’t have my approval.”

“Why would I need your approval?” Steve shot back instinctively before backing up when he saw Tony’s eyes widen. He threw his hands up in a show of surrender, “Not that I want to date Rhodey. That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what the hell do you mean?” Tony asked, voice fairly high-toned with distress.

Oh hell. This was derailing fast. Best to be get it out.

“You.” Steve said, “I want a date with you.”

Tony looked him over for a long, long minute that Steve had to count through to keep himself from actively freaking out. He maintained a calm, friendly smile throughout the minute even as it started to feel a little Joker-esque at the edges.

“You want to date me?” Tony went with finally.

“Absolutely.” Steve affirmed.

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Since when?”

“Since, uh—” Steve licked his lips, not in a sexy move or nothing, just ‘cause they were starting to feel dry from all the Joker-y smiling, “That time you measured me for the suit?”

“Two months, fourteen days ago?” Tony checked.

Gosh, he was smart. Steve nodded.

“Is it a Netflix and chill type-a date you’re after?” Tony asked.

And he was a little bit of an ass. A lot of ass actually, Steve amended when Tony raised his eyebrows suggestively. Least it was a cute one.

“No, more of a let’s-hold-hands-if-we’re-feeling-brave type of date.” Steve said.

“I thought you were turning seventeen?” Tony sat back, “That's middle school crap.”

“What can I say?” Steve shrugged, trying not to show that it stung a little, “I’m a late bloomer.”

“Uh-huh. I’m the opposite.” Tony crossed his arms, “Which brings me back to my first question. Why me?”

“Well, I have a list.” Steve dug into his bag and pulled out a pocket notebook, flipping it open with a flourish.

“Oh my—” Tony made a gleeful noise, arms uncrossing to cover his mouth, “You have a notebook.”

“Well, duh.” Steve gave a quick smile before clearing his throat, “Okay, first—though this is not in order of importance, F.Y.I.—but first, even though you hate Vision’s music taste, you still help him mix his music. Second, even though Jan has about fifteen-hundred complaints every time you make her a suit, you never ignore any of them and always try to follow through. Third, when you smile, you have a secret dimple on the corner of your left cheek and it’s very endearing. Fourth, you’re annoyingly precise about numbers, actually, case in point from just now—”

“Oh-kay.” Tony interjected, and oh, wow, that was a soft red on his cheeks. Steve took his pen out of the notebook’s slot and turned over to a new page.

“What are you—” Tony leaned over the table to look down at the notebook, “Are you writing down “pretty blush”?”

“Shh.” Steve said, gesturing to the “keep your voices down” sign, “It’s a library.”

“. . .Of course you would ask someone out on a date in a library.” Tony ran a palm over his face, “Wow, this is freaky on so many levels.”

Steve straightened the notebook spine with a snap, “Fifth, you have—”

“I get it, I get it.” Tony said, “I’m a fucking fantasy come to life.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Steve said.

“Aren’t you meant to be wooing me?” Tony asked, “Insulting someone isn’t the way to go, Mr. Strategy is a Lifestyle.”

Steve looked down at his notebook, “Fifth, you’d take the ugly truth over a pretty lie.” He looked back up at Tony, “I’m the same.”

Tony’s mouth slackened and he gave Steve a onceover, “We are very different.”

“I know.” Steve agreed, “Until we’re not. And 'sides, where we do differ—it keeps things exciting. You excite me.”

“I excite you.” Tony repeated.

“Yeah.” Steve could play cool guy all he wanted but the prickly heat rising in his cheeks would just keep on betraying him.

“That’s a pretty good reason to ask someone out on a date.” Tony said in a low tone, almost to himself.

“I thought so, yeah.” Steve said.

Tony watched him for five more weighty seconds before nodding, “Okay.” He opened his bag and took the blueberries out. He put it back down on Steve’s side. “Here,” Tony gestured, “I don’t want them. Feels like a bribe when this shouldn’t be like that.”

“But it’s a—”

“You got eccentric in there, right?” Tony jutted his chin towards the notebook.

“I got prolific interrupter, that’s for sure.” Steve volleyed.

“Fair.” Tony conceded, “When do you want to do the date?”

“On my. . .birthday?” Steve blinked. Had he not mentioned that?

“Oh.” There were two spots of pink, nestled back on Tony’s cheeks, seeming to get proper cozy on them apples. “You want to go on a first date on your birthday?”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve said, “Is that too weird?”

“Um. No.” Tony said, “It’s fine. Uh, do you want me to get a booking or—”

“Oh, no! I’ll handle all that.” Steve said, and for some reason, having Tony’s agreement felt like a decent throw of the shield. He was feeling the same combination of nervy and ready, that familiar thrumming anticipation of a clean return.

“Okay, then.” Tony set his hands flat on the table, “Text me the details.”

“I will.” Steve said, getting up, “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me in here.” Tony warned, bringing a finger up to his lips before smoothing down a page of the book, “It'll ruin my street cred.”

Steve grinned to himself before leaving, shaking his head a little at his dumb luck.

Or, rather, his genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist luck.

He shook himself a little as he made the trek back to his room. He had a date to plan and a birthday wish to make true.

.

The sun was setting low in the sky when they got back to campus.

“Happy birthday, Cap!” Doreen greeted as she walked by, tail visibly perking up when she caught notice of their swinging hands. Thankfully, she didn’t make any comment about it, passing on without a reaction.

"Thanks, Doreen!"

Steve got a few more birthday wishes and a lot more students staring at their hands, but they still managed to get back to Tony’s tower without anyone asking them point-blank what the hell they were walking around with their hands intertwined for.

“That was fun.” Tony said, standing at the entrance to his tower. He unwound his hand from Steve's, “Uh, I mean it. Really.”

“Thank you for agreeing to the date.” Steve offered him a friendly smile because he still didn't know how to give him a romantic one. Google had said "smirk" but that couldn't possibly be a thing, right?

“Thank you for inviting me.” Tony volleyed, “I had a good time.”

“I’m glad.” Steve said, wishing he’d prepared a segue for after the date.

He’d been so concerned about getting to the restaurant without some Hydra attack pulling them elsewhere, and once they’d sat down at the restaurant, he’d been occupied with the conversation—at first in keeping it going and then after ten minutes, totally lost to it. It had been all that Steve had hoped for: conversation that was sharp and teasing, food that was hearty and indulgent, and company that was invested and pretty. They hadn’t really stopped talking until they got back to campus, and when Steve had dared to bring his hand down to Tony's, the boy didn't stop his spiel about A.I.M. for even a second to react, just turned Steve's hand over and intertwined their fingers like they'd done it a million times before. It had been a promising bubble to float in, and Steve didn’t know how to bridge the distance now that it had burst.

“Y’have a good date?” Tony asked.

“No complaints.” Steve smiled again, though the edges were beginning to feel brittle. Then, there was that same stilted silence for an agonising half-minute before Tony shook his head, shuffled his feet and stepped closer.

“So does the next one have to be on my birthday or. . .?” Tony trailed off, quicksilver smile and dancing eyes.

“You want another one?” Steve asked hopefully, breath caught in his throat.

“Yeah, I do.” Tony said, tilting his head a little coyly, “What, you need me to give you a notebook, too?”

“No, I don’t—” Steve inhaled, grin simmering inside him, just about held back. “So, really good date then.”

“I think we could work together.” Tony said, before amending, “I mean, we already work together but I think, I think we could work even better. Differently and better.”

“There’s that engineering brain.” Steve pointed out, “That’s also in the notebook.”

“I don’t like notebooks,” Tony said, tone like he was just wondering aloud, “But I could open up a Stark sheet.”

“. . .Yeah?” Steve asked. He felt like kicking his feet against the pavement, like pumping his fist in the air. Again.

“First, you’re ridiculously chivalrous.” Tony said, “And it should annoy me but it really doesn’t.”

Steve rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to dispel his grin.

“Second, you don’t get annoyed by the sheer barrage of people that come to you with their personal problems even though you totally could.” Tony said, “Especially on your birthday.”

“Well, it was an easy climb,” Steve said, “Who knows how long it would have taken to convince Hairball to come down?”

“Third, you have a very symmetrical smile.” Tony said, “It’s very nice to look at.”

“Aw shucks, Tony.” Steve said, “I get it. You don’t have to say all that.”

“What, so you can have a notebook, but I can’t say I find you stupidly handsome?” Tony asked.

“Well, I—”

“Oh my god, just kiss already!”

Steve and Tony startled, glancing up to see Kamala at the head of a gaggle of younger students peering down at them.

“Why are you on my tower?” Tony called up, throwing out his arms dramatically, “Does privacy mean nothing to you?”

Kamala’s head ducked down, and then, like a row of meerkats, so did the other students.

Steve huffed, “Well, that’s something.”

“They’re a little bit onto something.” Tony gave him a curious look, “What are your thoughts on a birthday kiss?”

Steve blinked, flushing inadvertently at the directness of the question, “Positive.”

“First of many, I hope.” Tony said, and it was even more direct, and this—a Tony going after something he wanted—was heady stuff. It settled in Steve with a rushing sense of rightness. He’d caught the shield and its weight was centering.

“I agree.” He said.

“Wonders never cease.” Tony’s eyes near-twinkled as he smiled, “We’re agreeing.”

“Who knows what’ll happen when we kiss?” Steve joked.

“Good segue.” Tony said, snapping his fingers.

He finally got there. It was an awkward sidestep dance before they moved forward, and then Tony got his hands on Steve’s neck, and everything narrowed down to just Tony and him.

Steve inhaled sharply, worried that the sprawl of Tony’s fingers on his neck would catch onto how quickly his heart was beating. This close, he could smell Tony’s cologne. This close, he could watch Tony’s pupils dilate.

“Okay?” Tony murmured, and his breath hit Steve’s lips.

Steve brought his hands to Tony’s waist (!!!), and leaned down. He pressed his lips to Tony’s, dry and brief, overthinking the gesture for a second before Tony tilted his head, just the slightest, and then pressed firm against Steve. The kiss became a proper nice one then, and when Tony’s mouth parted, Steve's followed suit. And that was different. New different. Good different.

They broke apart after about—fifteen-ish seconds. Steve could probably ask Tony for the exact number, but he didn’t think that asking how long a kiss lasted was the best question to ask directly after a first kiss. Not if he wanted the ordinal indicator to mean something in the long-term.

“Hell of a late bloom.” Tony murmured.

“Hm?”

“Hell of a late bloom.” Tony wrinkled his nose self-effacingly, “Uh, from when you asked me out and I was being a bit of a dick about you being wholesome and then you said—”

“I’m a late bloomer, right.” Steve recalled, “I remember.”

“Just—it's a hell of a late bloom. In that case.” Tony exhaled roughly, “Uh, is it just me or were those fourteen seconds kind of brilliant?”

Steve’s grin was stretching his cheeks before he could even think to hide it, “You’re lovely, you know?”

A flash of confusion shaded Tony’s face for a brief moment before the boy smiled back at him, a slight uncertainty to their set, “You too, you know?”

“. . .How’s tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“What?”

“Our second date.” Steve clarified.

“Yes.” Tony agreed swiftly, “Was that too quick of an answer?”

“I don’t care.” Steve said, “I’m just happy you said yes.”

The uncertainty faded from Tony’s face at that reply, leaving behind only unfiltered delight, “Thank you for asking me. Both times.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Good birthday, then?” Tony checked.

“Best one yet.” Steve answered readily.

Tony’s smile was enchanting, lingering warmly like sunlight on skin even when Tony said goodbye and walked back into the tower. Steve stayed there, at the entrance, for a minute or two, luxuriating in the feeling of everything going right.

Then, with all of his exhilaration and joy rising in him like a mentos in a coke bottle, he finally let himself be free.

He pumped his fist in the air.

“Happy birthday, Cap!”

Of course, Kamala chose that moment to send a wish down. He quickly dropped his arm before turning to face her.

“Uh, thanks Kamala!” Steve called up, probably red as a tomato.

“You guys are a cute couple!” Kamala called down, “Looks like your birthday wish came true!”

Steve blinked and then smiled at the correctness of that, hand coming up to rub the nape of his neck where he could still feel Tony's fingers.

"Yeah, I guess it really did."

#my writing #my fics #stevetony #havepatienceandendure #prompt fill #avengers academy #RIP... :( #happy birthday steve!

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: χεῖμα

Saturday, Jan 20th || Return From Death

Heyyo, long time no talk. I mentioned very briefly at the beginning of the year that I was going through some shit but I think I'm starting my slow return to the living!

tl;dr, I had a major health crisis that has still left me unable to breathe correctly 20 days later. Day one of 2024 was spent in the ER and I hope that isn't setting a tone for the rest of the year

But that's besides the point! I want to return to writing! That's my passion! and even though I've been in the throes of imposter syndrome I know that I *can* return! So I'm gonna!! Starting next week y'all are gonna get Incorrect Eyes content, including an official intro post for the religious horror novella!

Before we get that far, though, I wanna tell y'all about a holiday project I didn't announce on tumblr: χεῖμα

χεῖμα is a cozy winter get-away to a cabin in the middle of the woods with the main cast of the Call Me Icarus series. Needless to say, it's not something I normally write. But I really needed something soft and happy, so that's what a wrote!

SUMMARY

In a different life, a different world, Icarus is invited for a winter holiday to Achilles' family cabin.

What ensues is a cozy tale of mischief and shenanigans as Icarus and company get snowed in and learn to love despite the annoyances and grievances that surround them.

Χεῖμα is a non-canonical short story set in what would ostensibly be our modern world with the main cast of Δάιος. This short story does not require you to read Δάιος, but it does assume familiarity with the characters.

And with that introduction, I wanted to let y'all know that this is a FREE story available on my itchio!!! And you can add it on GoodReads!!

Another important thing to note with this work is that there are two variations: the bell pepper edition and the chili pepper edition. They are same story with the exact same story line, but the chili pepper includes a sex scene and the bell pepper does not! So if you just want a cozy, pg-13 story, you can go with the bell pepper edition and if you want to read a scene where Icarus gets eaten out as an act of worship, then you can check out the chili pepper edition!

I also wanna share some snippies as well as the art I drew for the story, so if you wanna see those check out below the cut ↓

Okay, so imma share the art first:

(yes it's formatted like a book cover. no i am not selling physical copies of this book)

And one more piece of art:

And without further ado, some snippets I really love!

This time, when Icarus looks into the living room, he’s met with an even more heavenly sight than the fireplace: his family. Patroclus and Andromeda are sitting on the couch talking animatedly to each other while Thanatos is curled up in a chair to their left typing on his laptop. Achilles is flitting around a large tree in the back corner, twirling strands of orange slices and cinnamon on it. A warm and fuzzy feeling comes over Icarus as his gaze sweeps over everyone doing their own thing. This is his family, his home. He makes his way to join them, plopping down in the other unoccupied chair across from Thanatos. It’s only as he sits down that Andromeda looks over at him, smiling. “You came!” “Of course I did,” Icarus responds as he makes himself comfortable. “You had me kidnapped!” “I didn’t kidnap you,” Apollon says, spooking Icarus. He’s a lot closer than Icarus expected, leaning his hip against the side of the oversized chair Icarus is curled up in. “I showed up at your place and asked if you were ready to go. You willing got into my car. That’s not kidnapping.” “I think it counts,” Icarus grumbles, sinking further down into the chair.

And another snippet:

Icarus wakes up the next morning bundled in blankets with a hand running through his hair. He groans, but does not move. This is heaven, right here curled up in an isolated cabin with his ex-best friend playing with his hair. “Good morning, Birdie. Sleep well?” All Icarus can do in response is shush him. He’s not ready to be awake, not ready to face whatever it is that’s going on between the two of them. Apollon laughs and his hand stills. “I didn’t want to wake you up, but Andromeda stopped by a bit ago and said they made lunch. Whenever you wanna get up, we can eat.” But Icarus doesn’t want to get up. Ever. This is his own personal paradise, he would rather eat glass.

One more?

“What happened, is everyone alright?” Apollon asks, his voice panicked as he slides into the view. Icarus can see the moment he realizes that everything is fine, the worry melts off his face and the tension in his shoulders drops. Icarus smiles up at him, dropping his hand as he says, “Yeah, I just came to wake Meda up.” “You fucking dick! You gave me a fucking heart attack!” they respond, throwing their pillow at the side of Icarus’ head. He catches it, the action reigniting his laughter at the situation. Maybe they were right. Maybe the one thing Icarus needed to do was just exist for once, let loose and breathe outside of the rebellion. As the day crawls by in cozy comfort, Icarus realizes that this is what he’s always wanted. A home.

Ah fuck it, one more to explain the pancake sticker:

As Icarus turns into the kitchen he finds his distraction: Achilles standing at the stove. The kid looks thoroughly distraught as smoke and a pungent burning smell rises from the pan in front of him. Without thinking, Icarus swoops in and grabs the pan before rushing to the front door and dumping the whole thing in the snow. “I see you tried to make breakfast,” he says, turning back towards the kitchen. Now that he’s not worries about the burning food, he can see that the kid got out all the ingredients to make pancakes. And man, do pancakes sound delightful. “Yeah, I uh,” Achilles says, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to make breakfast for everyone like you did yesterday.” “That sounds great, looks like you got all the stuff for pancakes. Why don’t we make another batch?”

Honestly I debated tagging anyone since this is not normal CMI content, but I have a feeling y'all will love it anyways so:

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @leighvalentine @inkspellangel @outpost51 @hclyeden

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

#call me icarus #wip update #writing #writeblr #wip excerpt #wupdate #tragedy #adult fantasy #dark fantasy #andi writes

[drev-the-procrastinator]

6, 11, 22 from this ask game

ohohoo thanks for the ask!!! this was harder than i thought it would be. also heads up, the snippets are very unpolished and like 1st draft things. i hope you like them anyway!! <3

6 . that i struggled with, but triumphed over my bachelor's essay lol okay let's see what i've got… ajaskhfa there are so many things i am struggling with right now to be honest ghh. and am yet to triumph over. hmmm. okay i thought about this very hard. but i cannot think of anything to fit this category jafkjsf. i only have things i'm currently struggling with ;_; upon more reflection i would like to nominate this answer as this one ajfaksdfjaskfjn. not a very good answer i know but. it's truthful at least! i was considering maybe taking part in a wip wednesday to maybe work on some of the ones i'm really struggling with, but we'll see!

11 . with characters i want to write more in the future hmm two choices… I'll go with the TOH thing! okay i chose this one specifically because i've got a WIP with both of them, this one, or the hypothetical toh fic as i like to call it (because i had/have my doubts about if i ever actually manage to write it) and then two other WIPs with one about Evelyn and Caleb, and then one being a. post-canon, pre timeskip road trip au with Hunter and Luz. so i do want to write both of them more! so yea

“Oh! Oh.” caleb looks stricken for a moment, before making a visible effort to school his expression. “No. Have you thought- this whole-?” the man cuts himself off, pressing a hand to his mouth. he isn’t very good at guarding his expressions, hunter notes, puzzled by the distress that shows through. “I just… I assumed?” he says, fiddling with the empty mug, shoulders rising, but in embarrassment rather than fear. “It was a long fall.” there is a short moment of silence that to him at least feels like hours, during which hunter, ears burning, does his best to wish he’d sink back to the ground from which he’d crawled out, until caleb snorts in amusement and drops the hand from his mouth, and the tension breaks. “I suppose it was,” caleb says with the corner of his mouth pulling to a start of a smile, in a tone hunter would swear is almost fond, and offers hunter his hand. the titanawful distress is gone from his face. hunter takes the offered hand, without hesitation, and caleb pulls him to his feet. “No, you’re not dead,” caleb reassures him, as he gently holds hunter’s hand between his own again, even though it’s perfectly warm here in the little cabin and his fingers don’t need any warming. hunter doesn’t feel the need to pull away, but he knows that if he wanted to, caleb would let him, without question. “You yet live. I’m sorry I’ve kept you this long. it’s taken… a bit longer than we thought.” “We?” caleb smiles, a quick, knowing, almost mischievous smile, but in lieu of answering he steps back just a little, looks hunter over, and with a squeeze of his hands lets go. only to step closer, slowly, just to an arm’s length from him, and then when hunter doesn’t flinch away dusts something off hunter’s shoulder, and smoothes a crease from his shirt, fiddles with the collar of the wolf t-shirt as though any adjustment would carry over to his, apparently still living body, until he seems satisfied, and then sets his hands on hunter’s shoulders again, both, this time. it’s a little like how his uncle had used to look over him when he’d been really small and had to accompany him to some sort of important social function, but a lot more like camila looking over luz at the doorstep that first day she’d had to go back to school in the human realm, even down to fixing his clothes. hunter’s still a little shorter than him, not by a lot, and most likely not for long, but for now caleb does have to look slightly down at him. “Right,” he starts, and then doesn’t seem to be sure how to continue. his eyes flit back and forth, around hunter’s face, as if only now, in the golden soft light of the moment just before the dawn breaks, he’s seeing him properly for the first time. taking him in. committing to memory. “This is it, then?” hunter asks, even though he already knows. caleb hums, glances out the window, and hunter follows his lead. the sun is just below the horizon. the tops of trees nearby are bathed in a bright and warm red light. “Just about”, caleb says and looks back at hunter. he’s silent for a little while, before exhaling softly out of his nose and carefully, telegraphing his every move (though it’s not like he could hide them from someone with hunter’s training anyway), brushes some stray hairs from his face, including the ever-present strand that bounces back immediately. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember”, caleb confesses, his hand settling back onto hunter’s shoulder so lightly that hunter knows the grip, if it can even be called that much, would break if he were so much as to lean backwards, “I’ve never sent anyone back before. But I hope something remains. If nothing else, then what I told you in the clearing.” [***] “And you’ve got to take better care of yourself”, caleb says, sternly and only half-teasingly. “There’s only so much magic that can fit in a palisman that small. Cardinals aren’t big birds, young man.” hunter’s eyes widen.

hehe :3c also the thing caleb told him in the clearing? well i didn't like the wording on it so i took it out. oh dear, looks like you'll have to read the whole thing to find out someday.... and YES if you've read "hands, grasping", it IS the same fall! same fic haha. i'll put a read more here because the next bits are rather long,,, yes, long snippets, i don't get to share my writing often ahaha. but anyway!

22 . that is so blissfully self-indulgent

hghhhh okay let's see. I'll give you a toh snippet and then maybe a REAL self indulgent one, i mean, the sort that has a potential readership of. maybe two people max lmao. sorry, hunter's having a bad time in this too :( tw i suppose for bad injuries on a minor. and blood. sorry hunter

something warm dripped down his chin. he thought he might've heard someone screaming his name, but it was hard to tell past the ringing in his ears. he might've hit his head on landing. funnily enough, he couldn't feel much pain from that. it was quite wholly eclipsed by the searing, piercing pain in his chest. i'm not caleb, but the thought was more like a distant, frightened question. everything else felt distant, far-away somehow, but he was very aware of his physical body. the hot pain in his chest- dark red stain on white cotton- i'm not caleb-- the shivers, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. the rough ground against his palm and arm as he tried to hold himself up, the tiny sharp pebbles digging into them. the cold numbness starting to spread from the tips of his fingers and toes. the sharp sear of the wound in time with his rasping breaths. the blurry sight of his bloody, trembling arms. there was a stinging cut on his left palm, from the blade-arm. the ground below him, glistening with spreading dark red. i'm not caleb. he had to get up. he had to stand up. he couldn't fight, but he couldn't stay here. the only thing he'd serve as a distraction for would be his friends as they'd scramble to shield him and keep any attacks or debris from hitting him. he had to move. he had to. he tried to get his legs under him, but even just moving them a little, ignoring the flare of searing pain he had to grit his teeth together against, he could tell they wouldn't carry. he crawled. from the sound of it, a sizable rock crashed into the ground where he'd just been seconds ago. he only made it a couple more feet before the jittery, jelly-like feeling from his legs spread to his arms. a mere foot further, and what little strenght he'd managed to claw from himself had run out. his arms were too weak to even tremble. it was all he could to to slowly lower himself to the ground, instead of just collapsing outright. it was getting harder to breathe. he felt something bubbling up inside his chest. he coughed, and it hurt, and his mouth tasted like iron. i'm not caleb, and now it was a desperate plea. […] the fit passed. he spat out the blood, and squeezed his eyes shut.) his breaths were shaky, and not just from pain. i'm not caleb, he thought and clung to that thought with the desperation of a drowning man. i am not him, so i will not die like him. i won't die at belos' hand. i can't, because i'm not caleb, and i am going to live. i am going to live, because Flap gave his life for me to live, and i promised him, and i promised my friends, and i promised luz, and i promised caleb, and he told me i'm not him, i'm hunter, and caleb died but hunter will live. i'm not caleb…

he'll be fineeeeeeee and the other, really self indulgent one, just for me:

"we’re married now, after all. i am your wife”, she said, and the words brought with them a warm feeling in her chest, in her belly, in her heart, “and you are my husband.” “…and what does that mean?” “what do you think it means?” “i… i don’t-” he cut himself off, swallowed whatever he’d been about to say, if he even knew it himself. for a moment he nearly looked ill, and stared at her so helplessly it made her want to bring back his father just to send him to his coffin herself. but now wasn’t the time for that. she let her anger and frustration bleed out in a sigh. “for now…” she slowly lifted his hands, making sure to hold them gently, to give him the chance to pull away if he wished. he held his breath, but did not move away. his hands stayed in hers; his hands, smoother and softer than her own even after all this time. so warm, always so kind to her. now slightly trembling. slow in her movements, she kissed them, the softest touch on the knuckles on each hand. she heard his breath catch at the first of them, but he still did not pull away. she looked back up at his face. his eyes, glistening in the firelight, were wide, but he no longer looked as sickly pale with fear and panic as he had before. it seemed as though he had been looking at her and seeing a stranger, and the spark of recognition was only now returning. she let her gaze soften. “…it means whatever you want it to mean. nothing more, nothing less.” for a moment, there was silence. he searched her face, her eyes for something she could not have consciously given him, neither moving, not speaking, barely breathing. just when she was starting to fear it wasn’t there, whatever he needed to find, he found it. she saw it in the moment he unfroze, how his posture dropped from the fear of a prey animal he’d entered the room with to exhaustion in the blink of an eye. “it’s you”, was all he said, and it was such a strange thing to say, in all its relief and its surety, that she couldn’t help but smile, but couldn’t even herself tell if it was from amusement at his words or sheer joy that he’d said them. he was tearing up, face slowly cracking with emotion. “it’s still you.” “well, of course”, she said after a moment of consideration, and reached to brush a strand of hair from his face, and smiled in what she hoped was hidden bemusement. “it was all the make-up and jewelry, wasn’t it.” his hand that she had let fall immediately grasped the other. “no,” he said and shook his head for good measure, and continued, voice thick, “i think i forgot. but it’s you.” with him gripping her hand like this, as though his life depended on it ,where just before he’d first not even looked at her and then flinched from her touch, she thought she understood. she laid her free hand on top of both of his. they still trembled. “it’s me.”

hehe haha. the ace yearning of someone loving you so much that they think you're enough just as you are is strong with this one. also they are my guys (gender neutral)……. also what's it with these snippets and someone making sure the other one can pull away from their hold if they so wish?? maybe it's someone who has all their life been forced into Situations of all sorts getting to interact with someone who Knows and doesn't want to force them into any more Situations if they do not wish to be. very different sorts of Situations in this one. but even so.

#thanks so much or the ask!! it was tough to find anything i've actually written out afjaksfasj #i hope these were not too long #the last bit is from a fanfic au that got so far divorced from the og thing it might as well just be original fiction now #it's called the kingdom au and i love it lots and i cannot for the life of me get myself to write it ghhhh #it's kinda cool tho i promise #they have names too i was just too embarrassed to use them with this bit for some reason!!! #and yeah. yea :)

[midnightcreator12]

Hi there! I just got into your au, and usually I really, really genuinely do not like oc's that are in canon. And it always takes me so many tries to get into it because it just seems so fun, however there's smth about it that I just never like and nothing ever works out? Came across your au, read first chapter and I was already in it. Read everything in one night, EXACTLY my cup of tea and I just don't understand? You added something, I don't exactly know what but I sure am loving it!

And the one-shots are my second favourite part! Nice to read, have a fun adventure in it (or gut-wrenching angst) and it's just so well written, having zero problems with following along. On the last chapter, in the comment section, you mentioned that you were gonna do a one-shot next. So if I may, could we get a small preview? Nothing big and if you don't want to or it's meant to be more surprise-like then, no need, no pressure!

Have a great day and night, drink some water and get plenty of rest, byeee!!

Happy you like my AU, fic and Chula!

I don't think I added anything so much as...took something away. See, what a lot of people do with OC insert fics is that they essicially make their OC the main character. There is nothing wrong with that, of course, but the issue is that you're going to have a lot of people not want to read it within a few paragraph.

Because, simply put, we read fanfiction to read about an established cast and world. Even if a fic isn't focused on the main characters we still see that main cast as a large part of the plot and, thus, if a fic is focused on a minor character, it's like watching a sidekicks filler episode. It's why I only have 4 out of 54 chapter from Chula POV in the main story of Hunter and Turtles. I wanted to keep her as a side character so I could keep the feeling of the fic being like another season from the show....but with more bloodshed and angst exploration.

That isn't a hard rule, of course. The One-Shot Series starts with a Chula POV chapter and most of those one-shots are from her POV but I always intended that one to be mostly for me to write whatever I wanted and to roll with it (notice the number of non-canon shots in that). And I wrote my Mutant Mayhem fic from an OC's POV because I tried with a few other perspective and his was the best choice. Even then, I tried to keep him as an outsider to the main cast instead of front loading the fic with his life story or something like that.

As for the One-Shot thing. I want to do some Canon One-Shots with Leo and Chula before I start posting the third Arc for the series. Mostly because Arc Three is going to be....quite a shift and there are some one-shots that a few readers have been excited to see. It's a lot easier to crank out some short, single chapter stories when I don't have to juggle all the heavy main plot stuff at the same time.

And since you've left such a wonderful ask in my Inbox....yeah, I can do a lil preview for one of the one-shots under construction.

Warning; this preview is not edited yet so the sentence structure, spelling and grammar may be a little wack.

You have an awesome day/night as well! And remeber to sleep when binge reading fanfiction! And enjoy!

Chula had been gone too long.

The thought had flitted through his a few times over that last couple of hours but when the sun started to go down, it became a mantra.

When they landed on this planet, Chula had passively mention that she was going to find some work for a few extra cdit while the ship refueled and cooled down. And Leo hadn’t bat an eye at that because Chula did that a lot, ventured onto planets for some day-labor for some extra cash in her pocket.

Leo didn’t mind staying on the ship to wait for her to come back….and since she hadn’t called him out for occasionally sneaking off she didn’t know he’d sometimes explore a little.

But she didn’t ever stay gone the entire day. The longest she’d ever been gone was nine hours and even that time she’d stomped into the ship grumbling about contractors underselling the job to try and give her less money.

But it had been easily past that at this point and Leo was worried. And she wasn’t answering her comm. Either. Sure, she didn’t always have time or signal but Leo was pretty sure she’d find a way to reassure him if he tried to call ten times.

But he hadn’t heard a peep.

So he grabbed his hood, opened a picture of Chula on his tablet and ventured into the settlement.

#lone hunter and turtle #tmnt #rottmnt #midnight talks #fanfic

[hlizr50]

Another day, another "drabble" to celebrate that 600 of you fine people want to see what I post and what I write! I'm so grateful for all of you and my fandom experience!

This request came from the lovely and talented @headcanonheadcase, who loves my Elorcan fic Aggressive Affirmation (read it here on AO3). So she wanted a Gwynriel version! (NSFW)

Be advised, this one is SPICY!

Prompt: Gwynriel Aggressive Affirmation

Fandom: ACOTAR

Ship: Gwynriel

Word Count: 947 (I know, I need to reign it in, but this one is worth it)

“You’re brooding.”

“I am doing no such thing, Berdara,” the shadowsinger grumbled from his desk chair. Gwyn scowled, affronted that he hadn’t even deigned to look at her when he answered. 

With an annoyed hum she clapped her book closed, rising from the chaise and crossing the room in a few determined strides. Even his shadows pooled on the floor at his feet, dejected and lethargic. Gwyn’s lips turned down when they didn’t even rise to meet her. She stopped behind him, between two great wings that he’d tucked in close, and leaned over his shoulder to pluck the report out of his hand.

“You are. Even your shadows are sulking.” As if summoned, a curious wisp of smoke flitted up to meet her, circling her wrist as she walked around him to place the report on the desk. To place herself between him and his work, then - boldly - to place herself upon his lap, arms around his neck and thighs straddling his. She brushed silky locks away from his eyes, encouraging him to meet her gaze. “You’re quiet–”

“I’m always quiet.”

“You’re too quiet. Even for you,” she muttered with a meaningful tilt of her chin. “You’re unhappy, Shadowsinger. Even if I couldn’t see it, because I know you, I can feel it. In here.” Her palm fell flat upon her sternum, where the golden bond thrummed beneath her skin. Hazel eyes followed before thick lashes lifted and she was graced with his attention again. Her nose crinkled and her eyes narrowed as she tried to silently pull his thoughts from the lockbox that was his expression. When he couldn’t hold back an amused chuckle, a great grin split her face. Azriel sighed.

“I hate coming back with nothing valuable to report. I hate going to Rhys with nothing helpful to offer him. It makes me feel–”

Gwyn surged forward, stealing whatever horrible, self-deprecating word he was about to speak with a searing, demanding kiss. When their mouths parted she leaned her forehead against his.

“Don’t you dare say it. Don’t even think it,” she warned. The Valkyrie knew the kinds of ugly words he’d wanted to use. Useless. Worthless. Such horrific lies that he’d told himself for centuries. She slid down his body until her knees hit the floor, her body between his legs as she let a hand trail down his chest, toward the laces of his breeches.

“Gwyneth,” he murmured, an eyebrow raised. A mischievous smirk was her response.

“Let me show you just how special you are,” she cooed, fingers tugging at the strings as he hardened beneath her touch. She huffed a smug laugh, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him.

If only he knew. 

His length sprang free, and Gwyn eyed it with hungry resolve. Her hand closed around the base of him and began to stroke him. Slow, deliberate strokes. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, and something fluttered in her chest that she could undo him so quickly. So, to add to his madness, she took the tip of him into her mouth. “Fuuuuuuck.” She hummed her satisfaction around him, making his hips buck.

Gwyn worked him with her hands and mouth and tongue sucking and pumping until he was close to the edge. And when he’d groaned that he was getting close, she stopped, pulling her mouth away with a pop.

Chest heaving, wide eyes churning green and gold, he stared down at her. It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow.

“Do you want to cum, Shadowsinger?” When he didn’t answer she pumped her hand up and down his shaft. His entire body jerked, and she snickered. “Tell me that you’re powerful and strong.”

“What?” Azriel’s beautiful eyes were clouded with confusion and barely leashed pleasure. He was so close, but she would not relent until he acknowledged his worth.

“Tell me you’re powerful and strong,” she repeated, then leaned in to run her tongue up the generous length of him.

“You are. A menace,” he gasped. But when she only pointed an expectant glare up at him, he relented. “I’m powerful. And strong.”

“Good,” she hummed, giving another long stroke.

“You’re intelligent and loyal,” she encouraged, allowing her hand to build a slow, steady rhythm. If he was good for her, she would put him out of his misery. He moaned and writhed beneath her touch.

“I’m intelligent and loyal,” he hissed. “Fuck!”

“That’s it, love.” She could have cackled at the string of guttural curses that erupted from him. But she was singularly focused on her goal, her hand moving just slightly faster as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, her eyes never leaving his. She smiled. “Now, Azriel. Tell me that you are an invaluable member of your court.” She sucked on him, and it was as if his whole body seized.

But he didn’t respond.

Her grip tightened on him and she pulled her hand from his base to his tip in a languid, torturously slow display.

“I’m waiting, Shadowsinger.”

He was panting, staring down at her with disbelief and desire and the most burning adoration she’d ever seen. And then he repeated those magic words.

His hips bucked into her strokes as they became feverish and needy, and he roared as her mouth closed around him again. The lean, sculpted body before her tensed and tremored as she tasted his climax on her tongue, swallowing until he was sated and relaxed. Pulling away, she crawled back up to his mouth, kissing those soft, perfect lips as his pleasure coated her own. He was grinning when she pulled away, and she tapped the tip of his nose.

“Good boy.”

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @headcanonheadcase @mystical-blaise @vikingmagic33 @damedechance @ofduskanddreams @mercarimari @daevastanner @houseofhurricane @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @writing-spaces @onemorenightdreamer @feyretale @almosttenaciousmoon @the-introverted-bibliophile @live-the-fangirl-life @silverflameataraxia @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @kimstclair @romancebooksandshit @booknerd87

#600 follower celebration #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel supremacy #acotar #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #fanfiction #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction #fanfic #spicy gwynriel #600 followers #aggressive affirmation #gwynriel style #post acosf #mates #sarah j maas #sjm

[leaahhh]

here are some of the songs that soundtracked my summer

maps by the yeah yeah yeahs because i have a secret theory that you must pay attention to the songs that play in the background of a first date because they might be premonitions. it was one of the first that came on the day we met. you were quieter then and everyone knew your name. i overslept far past my welcome that first night and maybe that should have been more telling than the song. maybe i shouldn’t have given myself over so quickly. maybe i should’ve listened to tyler. maybe maybe maybe a lot of things. still, i laughed the whole way home. my kind's your kind, i'll stay the same.

acolyte by slaughter beach, dog because it is one of the only unabashed love songs i can listen to several times in a row without recoiling. it is the best song to wash the dishes to, to walk into the sunset with, to believe in kinder things because of. 

group four by massive attack because the man i was seeing at the time played it once at the bar he worked at. i visited several nights a week, it became part of my routine: something to rush around for, a soft place to land. i was mesmerized from the jump, it was all i could fixate on for its full eight minute runtime — the song and also him, flitting back and forth in the dim red light. (i played it for S a few days later, saying it was the best thing i’d ever heard — he didn’t like it, said it was scary.) i remember going into the bathroom and stabilizing myself in the mirror prematurely thinking that i’d miss coming here when it all ended. each time i was met with eyes a little more vacant. a self-fulfilling prophecy. (i’m at a different bar alone now writing this. your coworker spotted me, came over, and reminded me that you’re working there tonight. i shook my head and he said “oops” three times.)

lost angel nights by james blake and alphabet city by the national because they say the quiet part loud. they made me feel justified in my self-abandonment and my masterful act of pretending to be okay with distance and mistreatment. “away from me is just fine.” “if anybody asks, i’ll say you’re coming back.” “i’ll still be here when you come back from space.” it’s not true. it shouldn’t be. but love is this way sometimes. 

montana by youth lagoon because J brought it up around 3am at a bar in bushwick and before then i hadn’t thought of it in many, many years. she joked that i should play it next to your ear while you were asleep that night because it might rewire your brain. i laughed hard then but later it made me want to cry. a couple months after, her and i sat on a couch backstage with T before he played a sold out show in brooklyn. i told him i think i might’ve met you just so i could meet her. i do believe it. 

this house by japanese breakfast because a friend posted it on her instagram story right after going through a bad breakup and i listened to it eating dinner alone at the neighborhood fast casual korean restaurant staring out the open front door while hot air hit my face and it felt like i was hearing music for the first time. what if one day i don’t know you? what if one day you leave? i could sense it was coming but i came over for a kiss despite it all. i really learned about liquid courage with you and i probably never needed to befriend it so closely. when we were together, my head was always spinning; my nose always stung. 

very overdue goodbye by runo plum because my friends all know i prefer dragged out, tortuous storylines over clean-cut endings and rightfully shake their heads. i’ve never gotten over a thing in my life, i tell david in a frankly unhinged voice message that closes with me laughing pathetically, squeezing in at the end that i hope the baby is healthy. it is the last friday night of summer. he says that 26 is the new 18, that i am the one making bad decisions, *i* am not the bad decision. he tells me to stand up for myself. it takes me several weeks but i listen. you made being alone feel so clean. i see you more as a pile-up of my own grief. 

to me it was by samia because the guitar gives me goosebumps all over. eliza and i have used the format “everything with ____ is totally fine/don’t freak out, it’s gonna be alright” back and forth all month to punctuate every nervous interaction. we ended up being wrong a lot of the time, there was absolutely reason to freak out. samia was right though; maybe i didn’t need tequila for that. someday i think i’ll look back and remember this as a good time. right now it just hurts. 

blue flower by mazzy star because it reminds me of my favorite line in that other song that makes me think about that other guy: i had a fever when i met you; now you make me cool. you were a superstar in your own private movie and i wanted just a minor part. ang is the first person to call it by its name: cruelty. i sweltered and seethed while you slipped away. 

street rat by blondshell because i fell back into my old habits as quickly as i’d tried to kick them as soon as you entered the scene. if a doctor put her hands over my liver she would tell me my resentment’s getting…bigger. i felt a lump, hard and unforgiving, growing there. my back tooth turned brown and started rotting the day you disappeared. Z yelped at me from across the street when he saw me and said i’m withering in front of his eyes. it’s a race to see who dies first and you’ve got five years on me. (as i’m typing this, the bar has begun playing sepsis by blondshell. it feels almost evil. it really should’ve taken a whole lot less to turn me off.) 

split up by boyish because i could have said all of this word-for-word in that text message. i kept it short for both of our dignities. 

aspirin - slight return by tropical fuck storm because christian responded with just the link to that after i ranted for 5 minutes straight about my rapid descent into madness. it was a perfect response. i’m a harrowing rest stop for the men i date. disarming enough to trip them up. not enough to make them stay. 

moon song by phoebe bridgers because after three years of knowing it so well, i heard it entirely differently one night and it nearly rendered me immobile. you asked to walk me home but i had to carry you. you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you. i would have stuck around, by the way. like a dog with a bird at your door.

[tasteoftheforbidden]

Hi hello! So I read False Pretenses again a third time when I saw you were updating the universe again. I don't read WIPs but couldn't help it so I read The Road to Sobriety. It's only at four chapters now but reading it made me feel more at peace with how FP ended. I desperately wanted to see how D & H and everyone else in the story heal and have a HEA.

Part 2 and some of the stuff you posted here on tumblr made me understand your vision for the story better. I hoped for a romcom ending where Draco changes his mind last minute or Hermione somehow finds Draco and convinces him otherwise but if that happened it would have been a cop out. It would have gone against the themes and messages you wanted to convey so I really admire how you held your ground throughout the story.

This isn't really an ask but just a show of encouragement and appreciation. Thank you for sharing your work and please know that there are many more like me who will be sticking to the FP universe till the end!

Hi hello as well ^^ First of all, thank you for that last part it made me feel fluffy! But do know that I will not take offense if anyone at any point drops any of my stories :)

As a person who also does not read WIPs, I do not understand how people can haha it's probably been more than a decade since I last read an unfinished fic mainly because I'm still not over the heartbreak from previous WIPs (probably now abandoned T.T but I'm still holding out).

I do have a very clear vision of the Universe of False Pretenses. Like I mentioned in the series description on ao3, it is cut in three-parts. Why?

1. I don't want to write a fic that is too insanely long. FP is way over the intended length already. 273500 words is crazy. I do want to work on cutting it down.

2. I want to create a main theme for each part. FP was for the fake dating arc. Now TR2S is about how everyone is going to heal. The last part... Is a secret for now, but I'm sure you have a pretty good guess ^^

The image I had was that of a TV series – when you finish a season, and they give you a preview of what happens next. That kind of thing. And I enjoy the whole jigsaw type of story telling where you flit back and forth between the past and the present so I wanted to continue that!

I'm not going to lie, I really considered ending the story right then and there and not making a series. Giving everyone a happy ending seriously would have made my life easier, but alas, that is not the case.

I can't promise when any of the updates will happen, so I highly recommend that you wait for the works to be finished before reading them! The Universe of False Pretenses is the type that is best read in one go, but hey, who am I to tell people how to spend their ao3 time? Read WIPs and live dangerously if it makes you happy ;)

Thank you for the ask, and I hope you are safe and well wherever you are ^^

#TheUniverseofFP #Dramione #False Pretenses #The writer is once again berating herself for making her life complicated

[areseebee]

I binge read smoke break and omg it’s so good and I just wanted to say thank you for contributing your writing to this fandom❤️. Idk if you’re still doing those Derry Girl prompts, but if so #25: Wanted?

thank you so much!! this is such an incredibly nice thing to hear. i have had this sitting in my inbox for far too long, but i’m glad to finally have finished especially because you drew such beautiful erin art that i am still so in awe over.

my 2k word answer to the prompt wanted is below the cut! this one is set around christmas pre-smoke break.

the prompt comes from this ask game i posted a while ago. heads up that this will probably be the last one i write (at least for the time being).

“Shhh! Jesus, you’re going to wake them all up,” Erin hissed over her shoulder at the sound of a particularly loud and especially grumpy creak of the Mallons’ stairs.

“How was I supposed to know the step was going to make that horrible sound?” James whispered angrily back at her, 

“You live here. You’re supposed to know these things.”

“Yeah, well usually I’m not going to bed in my aunt and uncle’s house trying to hide the fact that I’m fucking sloshed.”

Erin opened her mouth to snap back, only to realise a moment too late that she didn’t have any words to say, only a laugh which snorted out somewhere from the back of her throat incredibly ungracefully.

“Was that the stairs again or you?” he asked as Erin devolved into a fit of giggles, her knees seeming to autonomously decide they no longer wanted to support her drunken legs as she sank onto the top step in the dark.

“I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m too blocked to go to bed. I’ll sleep here. Just leave me,” she said, letting her head fall back against the wood railing behind her. Maybe a drink or two ago, it would have been feigned helplessness, but not now. Now it just felt like exactly the right thing to stay here, just to rest her eyes. Just for a moment. And if that moment stretched all night, well that was just how it was going to be. The top stair could be her pillow.

She expected to feel James brush by her, to leave her behind and make his own way to Michelle’s room where Michelle, Orla, and Clare were bundled up across Michelle’s floor and bed for the night. Maybe if James went, she’d eventually find the strength to stand and follow. There were comfy blankets in Michelle’s room.

The sound of gentle creaking on the stair just below her signalled that James had no intention of brushing by. She cracked an eyelid open to see him sit down on his own step and settle in next to her.

“I was serious – you can just leave me,” she half whispered into the dark, her voice sounding croaky and a bit too loud in the quiet house.

“And let you wake us all up again in 20 minutes when you decide you’re too cold out here? No.”

“I’m so tired,” she complained.

“There’s like…only three metres maybe to Michelle’s room.”

“I can’t do it. My legs are too drunk,” she said, wiggling her foot at him to show. He reached out defensively to grab her ankle.

“Watch where you throw that thing. You almost kicked me in the face,” he said.

“Sorry,” she muttered, setting it back down again. His grip loosened immediately, but his hand lingered, right at the top edge of her sock with the too-worn elastic where it had slumped and bunched at the top of her foot. 

She didn’t like wearing them for that reason – they always got twisted somehow around her foot, but they were the warmest she had and good for a cold December night like this one. They’d served her well the past few hours especially, when she’d been sitting in the Mallons’ small back garden with James, drinking what had probably been litres of Michelle’s spiked “eggnog” – more rum than anything else – as they talked, their friends flitting intermittently outside to join them and back in again to get warm in front of the tv or finally go to sleep. Erin had tucked her legs under her and a blanket around her sometime around 10pm, asked James about how his first term at uni in London had gone, and hadn’t left since.

Until a few minutes ago, when they’d finally gotten a little too cold, and yawned a few too many times, and James had finally looked at his watch to remark, “Oh Jesus, it’s half past three,” and they had finally decided to creep quietly upstairs to join the others. Only they hadn’t been so quiet after all.

And now his hand was on her ankle.

Maybe a drink or two ago she would have ignored it. Maybe a drink or two ago, she wouldn’t have even registered it. But now – 

“Nope, I can’t do it,” she announced as quietly and as firmly as she could manage.

He gave her a sudden serious, searching look and she felt his hand slip lightly away. Her ankle felt cold where his hand had been. “Do what?”

“Go to bed. I thought about it. Three metres is too far. Just leave me here. Good night,” she said, letting her eyelids close and her head roll back against the wood railing behind her again.

“All right. Fine,” he said, as she heard him stand up brusquely. “Good night. I’m going to go brush my teeth.”

“No, wait! I’m coming, too,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “If you’re just going to leave me…”

“You told me to leave you!” he hissed behind her as he followed her to the bathroom.

“I didn’t actually mean –”

“I knew it –”

“Whatever,” she said, fumbling around in the dark of the bathroom to find the light switch. She handed him his toothbrush before grabbing her own and applying toothpaste.

It was almost untenable, having to brush her teeth at this late hour, but if he was going to, she couldn’t just beg off. What would he think? He’d think about what gross breath she probably had, and she didn’t want James thinking anything about her breath that wasn’t nice. Not that she should probably even be thinking about what he thought about her breath. But if he were, just hypothetically, well…she only wanted him to think about nice things.

She glanced up at herself in the mirror before letting her eyes dart to his reflection, standing right next to hers, only to meet his eyes in the mirror doing the exact same thing. 

He didn’t do what she thought he’d do – look away – and instead held her gaze. She felt something funny turn in her stomach. Hopefully it wasn’t the eggnog starting to sit wrong. But if it wasn’t the eggnog…

He raised his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly. She blinked at him, uncomprehending, until he raised them by another centimetre. She raised hers in return, mimicking him.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. She mimicked him again, starting to enjoy the game.

He rolled his eyes at her. She did the same, trying to keep a dumb smile from spreading across her face. 

And then, just as he waited a beat longer than she expected and she almost turned to look at him directly, he winked – winked – before bending down to spit his toothpaste out into the sink.

It was good he was busy rinsing his mouth with water, because she felt an immediate blush creep up her neck and she couldn’t help the way her mouth stretched wide into a smile – an incredible inconvenience with a toothbrush in her mouth of all things.

She quickly followed suit behind him, trying to spit as gracefully as she could into the sink, which felt especially challenging when she knew he was watching her. She could feel it.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said, arms crossed and leaning back against the bathroom counter behind him as she wiped stray toothpaste off her mouth on a hand towel.

“Speak for yourself,” she answered. “I could have been asleep by now.” She reached up to unclasp her necklace, and fumbled. Her fingers felt too clumsy at this early morning hour, and after all of the drinks, and the cold, and what was becoming an overwhelming desire to be tucked under a pile of blankets drifting off to sleep, she didn’t have nor cared to have the dexterity she needed to remove her necklace. “Ugh. I just wanted – never mind,” she huffed, giving up.

“Need help?” James asked, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step toward her.

“Can you?” she asked, turning her back to him to give him easier access to the clasp. She felt him step close behind her, and tried to keep still. It was more than a little disconcerting to have him so near, even though it was only James and he was always near.

But he wasn’t near like this. At least, not very often. And especially not lately.

“Is it ok if I –” he started, but he was already clumsily sweeping her hair over one shoulder, his fingers brushing along the back of her neck.

“Aye,” she answered too late because the word had caught in her throat. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, too dry. Probably the alcohol – that was a thing, right? She felt him shift behind her, move in closer.

“It’s a little hard to see,” he muttered in explanation from somewhere directly behind her ear. Maybe from his voice, or the delicate movements of the necklace as he fiddled with it, or the way his fingers were brushing just there at the nape of her neck – she tried her hardest, but couldn’t bite back the shiver that came over her. “Sorry, my hands are cold,” he said. She felt another flush sweep up her cheeks at the fact that he had noticed. How totally embarrassing.

“Mmm,” was her only tense response as she continued to feel him fumble at the clasp.

“It’s so tiny. I’m too drunk for this,” he muttered so low she suspected he was speaking more to himself than her. She’d have laughed – she wanted to laugh – but she could only concentrate on the feeling of his breath against her ear when he’d said it.

Her whole body felt tense. Her feet had grown roots into the floor. The whole house could have collapsed around her and she’d still be standing, just like this. Because maybe, if she moved too much, if she didn’t stand this still, then James wouldn’t be standing behind her, wouldn’t be moving his hands across the span of her neck as delicately as he could probably muster.

Oh God.

“Just –” she started, and she felt his hands still. “Just don’t worry about it. I can do it. Or just sleep in it. It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal at all,” came tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.

“Are you sure? Let me have one more go,” he said, already busying his hands again. “Wait! Wait, got it,” he said triumphantly. “Do you have it?” he asked, letting the necklace slip down her neck.

“No, hold on, let me –” Erin answered, feeling the necklace start to drop just as he said, “Oh here –” his hands whispering around to her collar bone to grab the piece of jewellery as it slipped away. She could feel the trail of heat from his hand bloom out across her chest as the light chain of the necklace dragged out from under her hair. She turned to face him, feeling more hesitant than she was comfortable with. 

He was tall. Not like tall. But taller. She could tell. Especially at this proximity. He must be taller. Because usually her eyes were accustomed to meeting his right at the level where it seemed his mouth now was. She dragged her eyes up his face and met his shyly. 

“Here,” he said quietly, holding the necklace out to her and letting it fall into her outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” she answered, and he gave her a small smile in return.

He was taller, but not that tall, not so tall that she couldn’t, if she wanted –

“Jesus, why the fuck are you two still awake?” Michelle asked, stepping blearily into the bathroom, her hand attempting to shield herself from the light of the bathroom.

“We’re going to bed now,” James said hurriedly as he took a step backwards.

“Ok well I need to boke so if you could leave that would be great,” Michelle answered, pushing past the two of them to make her way to the toilet.

They shuffled out as quickly as they could, pausing at the open door to Michelle’s room.

“Well…good night,” Erin whispered to him. She heard him take an intake of breath, like he was about to say something, so she lingered, waiting for him.

“Yeah. Good night,” he said after a beat.

She slipped past him soundlessly into the room to her usual spot on Michelle’s floor, just under the window, and fell asleep trying not to think about how many steps she’d have to take to cross Michelle’s room to find him at the other end of it.

#my fic #cranberries ask game #ask #smoke break #erin quinn #james maguire #jerin #derry girls

[riley1cannon]

🧠🌙🏅

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Oh boy, so so sooooooo many... There's the one I scribbled down after watching the first Enola Holmes movie, and remembering how in COPPER BEECHES Sherlock tells Violet Hunter he shouldn't like any sister of his to take Jephro Rucastle's wacko job offer. So that had me thinking of Enola going undercover as a governess to carry out an investigation (me being me, there would be some kind of HOUND-like spooky shenanigans going on), and Sherlock going undercover as a groom, ala SCANDAL, to be close at hand in case of trouble, of which there would of course be tons.

Still love the idea but no idea if anything will ever come of it. Same with a couple of Superbat AUs, both mysteries. One is an Agatha Christie-style manor house mystery, set in the 1950s. The other would be more of a thriller, where Clark is part of a true crime program doing a show for the 25th anniversary of the still unsolved murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Bruce, naturally, wants nothing to do with it, but when (Option A) Clark uncovers new evidence, or (Option B) the killer/someone claiming to be the killer, contacts Bruce and starts a sinister cat-and-mouse, catch me before I kill again game, the two of them join forces to solve the mystery. The biggest hold up for both fics is that they really need to be of the no-capes variety, and I'm just not sure how to write them, Bruce especially, if Batman and Superman aren't in the picture.

There are also plans to do the sequel to "Curses Foiled Again," where they team up with Constantine to stop the Ouija Board Killer. There's the X Files fic I never completed but still think about from time to time, where they're mixed up with the Cthulhu Mythos. Not to mention a sequel to my Ramses & Nefret AUish fic...

Don't even ask me about this Star Wars western AU that flits across my mind at times, that would sort of be like Magnificent Seven, except in space...

:sigh:

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

Mornings are so-so, but late evening is really the best. Mainly because there are fewer interruptions. The only drawback is bedtime, and how ideas will continue to churn when I really should be sleeping.

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

My daily kudos email from AO3 gives me a happy buzz every morning, as does any comment that might turn up. It's a bit mystifying why either one occurs, since these are all old fics (some have been up there for more than a decade), and I have no idea how anyone even finds things like Disclosures or Clark Kent Kissed Me. It's a treat to know folks do unearth them, though, and find them pleasing. Lately it's been particularly pleasing to see my Trinity threesome fic, When You Least Expect It, getting kudos. That's the last fic I wrote that warranted an explicit rating, so it does my ego a bit of good to know some people think it was kind of sexy. (When I first posted it on LiveJournal, some Anon mocked me for thinking I'd written something sexy -- "Nah, it's not sexy. But you tried." And yep, I remember the comment verbatim after all this time. It's not coincidence I haven't written anything that wasn't fluff since.)

Yes, well, let's finish on a happier note by saying I am incredibly pleased with myself for having pulled off Duck, Duck, Goose without ever going over the top. That is no mean trick when you've got Batman picking a fight with the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement. (Wasn't good enough for the Rec Center to include in their recent roundup of Soulmate Goose of Enforcement fics, though. Hmph)

Thank you!

Fanfic Ask Game

[ssaalexblake]

not that masterchef is annoying me or anything but has anybody ever done statistical analysis over housewives who’ve entered after learning skills by feeding their families and how often they get kicked out for not being refined like the 20-40 year old male age group who did not learn via feeding children or????

#i am seeing. Patterns. Ones i dislike #students get axed for not being Inventive even if they point out they lack cash #housewives get the boot despite having delicious food because it aint pretty enough #good Luck making a certain cuisines b/c they're not aesthetically pleasing enough #(basically if u want a curry get ready to leave) #not that i've watched too much of this but i'm even noticing the women who do well got taught by their dads #.. can we PLEASE get a woman judge #this is the make food for two middle aged white men hour #and i would rather yank my own nails out than ever say white dudes are the best judge of ultimate cuisine #they are Not. #(i am not show flitting i just wanted to write this post when i was not on mobile)