#like wow. WOW. it's indescribable how awful this fic is

[buckybabieboy]

So I've read several smut fics about Bucky's first time after 70+ years but never a combination of these:

- touch starved Bucky, him begging the reader to touch him where he needs it the most

- him being iper sensitive, just a simple touch makes him whimper

- cumming a lot, reader can't even manage to suck him or stroke him properly

- still being hard after cumming several times

- he's just a moaning mess who needs attention, his metal hand isn't enough anymore

- his thrusts getting harder and deeper while he loses himself in the feeling, not even able to form a sentence

...could you please write something like this? If the f!reader and Bucky are friends, friends with benefits, in a relationship, how it starts, how it ends... it's up to you.

Wow. Here goes nothin’ BAHAHA.

Starved.

⚠️TW: NSFW, sub!touch-starved!bucky, dom!fem!reader, blowjob(m!receiving,) p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight overstimulation, cockwarming, Bucky being a touch starved and needy little thing, much more lol just read it

☁️Summary: You make Bucky cum for the first time(s) in over 70+ years. Your touch starved little baby.

📝A/N: Thx for this request babie. I tried my very hardest to include everything in here! P.S: I’ve been a very busy person lately, which meant no time for writing. I’m so very sorry! You guys sending in requests really motivates me though. <3 I even used some of your exact words if you look closely, anon ;)

You and Bucky had a relationship that was indescribable. He was honest and open around you, which was something that nobody else could ever say. Wherever you were, so was he, and you didn’t have a problem with that. 

During the time you’ve spent getting to know Bucky, you’ve come to 2 conclusions; James Buchanan Barnes was a broken and damaged man, but that will never mean he’s any less worthy of love. You also noticed a certain desperation in him. The slightest touch would make him go rigid.

You can recall multiple occasions where you’d grab his hand, kiss his head, or simply pull him in for a hug and he’d be all flustered and glossy-eyed. He’d beg you to do those things again. To touch him literally anywhere. It didn’t matter where because to him, any sensation was a good sensation, just as long as it came from you.

Which led you to your second conclusion; Bucky was longing for touch. He was a touch starved, delicate, little thing that just needed to be taken care of. And you had no problem being the one to fulfill his needs. 

As of right now, Bucky has made himself comfortable in your arms, eyelids shut and mouth agape as he indulges in your soft, delicate touch. He’s on your lap and facing you, so you notice even the slightest twitches of his beautifully flushed face. Your fingertips slowly scratch at his scalp, and you feel him fall limp in your arms, as if he’d given himself up to you.

“l- I love that, y/n. please don’t stop...” Bucky mumbles. 

“when you touch me.. f-feels like m’ floating...” Bucky continues to babble and whimper from your simple movements. He’s literally shaking in your lap, which makes your mind wander into filthy places. You’re still awed about how the simplest touches from you make him go mad.

“yeah? feels good?” You ask quietly in response, and he nods his head yes. You feel subtle, but noticeable movements against the skin of your right thigh. His metal fingers were lightly tapping your thigh, as if he needed something to hold on to, to ground him here on earth so that his now ‘normal’ headspace wouldn’t become a fuzzy and floaty one.

“my sweet boy..” you whisper to him, brushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear. He gives you a weary and desperate look in response, and you give him a soft kiss on the nose as an attempt to calm him down. You began to feel something on your thigh again, but it wasn’t his metal fingers. You look down and see Bucky grinding against your thigh, whimpering and hyperventilating while doing so.

“f-fuck, I c-can’t! need more…” Bucky whimpers, hot tears falling from his baby blue eyes. He was so frustrated that he could never do it for himself, it was humiliating for him. You know he’s tried to cum by himself, but his metal hand just wasn’t enough. Poor little baby just couldn’t get himself there, and he needed you to do it. You wipe his tears with your thumb and begin to shush him. He was stiff in his pants, and the fact that he was wearing his comfy gray sweats didn’t make it any less obvious.

“shh… you’re okay James. What is it that you need, hm?”

Your voice was soft and delicate to his ears, which was something that Bucky appreciated. He was feeling so many things right now, it was all so overstimulating for him, but you’re sweet, sultry voice reminded him that he was okay.

“please do something. anything! it hurts, y/n… make it stop, please…”He whimpered, avoiding your eyes. His cock was leaked and stained his sweats.

 His whimpers have gotten even more high pitched as he’s become more desperate for you. You palm him through his sweats which makes him jolt in your lap, practically screaming at the sensation. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already so spent.

“get up, baby. gonna take care of you now.” You whisper to him. He gets off of you and sits on the edge of your shared bed as you get down on your knees in front of him. You take off his shirt and undo the drawstring to his sweats, taking them off along with his boxers. You stare at his body in awe. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. All his scars and bruises were so perfect in your eyes. Even that metal arm of his, the one that he would be insecure about from time to time. Your eyes trail down to his aching cock, loads of precum having spilled out from before.

You get up to kiss him on his adorably pink lips before coming back down to leave a trail of kisses down both his trembling thighs.

“y/n, please! Please touch my cock, I need you there!” Bucky yelps at the feeling of your soft, plush lips kissing his legs. He’s so sensitive and whiny, just needing you to touch him where he needs it most. You hum in response and move up to his twitching cock. You plant a kiss on his tip, causing him to let out a gasp and buck his hips up towards you. You notice how stimulated and sensitive his cock is, which wasn’t very surprising. His cock must be aching from being hard and not releasing for so long.

“you’re so hard, sweet boy...let me know if it’s too much, okay?” You say before taking his red tip into your mouth, sucking on it softly. You make sure to make your movements slow at first, not wanting to overwhelm him. The moment your soft, moist lips wrap around him, you hear him stifle a pathetic whimper. When you’re halfway down his shaft, you begin play with his balls with one of your hands.

“keep goin… please don’t stop!” Bucky cries, both his hands gripping the sheets. You finally take his whole cock in your wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you go. Bucky had no idea such ecstasy existed; the feeling of your wet tounge on his sensitive cock was almost driving him mad. You could feel his poor cock pulsating in your mouth, which motivated you to continue your movements. You reach down into your shorts and rub yourself through your soaked panties. You didn’t even notice how wet Bucky’s pathetic sobs and whimpers made you.

“f-fuck, y/n that's so good! feels so, so good! gonna make me c-cum!” Bucky continues to babble and cry, the poor little baby couldn’t even manage to speak one complete sentence. He was literally finding it hard to breathe because of the way you were making him feel. This would be the first time in over 70 years since he’s last had an orgasm, so he could feel every little thing. Every flick of your tounge, the vibrations of your moans, the way your fingers fondled with his balls. 

Bucky’s chest rises and falls as he pants heavily, shaking and trembling as he cums in your mouth, his cum painting the back of your throat. He didn’t even notice how much he was cumming until he felt the cold air hit his sensitive cock after you let it out of your mouth. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you start to pump him. Loads of cum continue to spurt out of his cock in long white strings, coating your hand and his spasming thighs. 

“y/n...can’t stop..” Bucky whimpers wearily as he thrusts his hips rapidly into your fist.  

“awh, can’t stop cumming, sweet boy?” you coo at him, continuing to pump his spasming cock, milking him for all he’s got. His cock and your hand were now painted white with his cum. Once you’ve pumped out the last of his creamy warm liquid, you sit next to him on the bed so you could check on him. He immediately falls into your arms, whimpering and babbling like a little baby. 

“need more..wan-wanna be inside you...please? please let me be inside you, i need it!” Bucky cried. Your sweet baby boy was sobbing, visibly frustrated because he still wasn’t satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be after only one orgasm.

“shh, of course you can, baby. you can have anything you want.” you assure him, understanding how overwhelming this all must be for him. You take his hands in yours and kiss them, and an adorably pathetic whine escapes from him.

His precious eyes glistened, tears falling from them. He was so desperate for you; he’d probably take anything you gave him at this point.  You take off your clothes before scooting back on the bed, laying down and spreading your legs for him. You smile at how Bucky just stares at you, eyes wide at the sight of your wet, glistening pussy.  

“you can touch me, y’know” Bucky's precious turquoise eyes narrow at your words, as if he wasn't certain this was real, as if none of this was, and he was merely dreaming of this euphoria he was experiencing right now. Before you knew it, he’s scrambling to get above you as he thanks you over and over again.

 His flesh fingers glide over your silky skin, traveling from your cheek, down to your neck, before hesitating over your boobs. His cheeks have become flushed, and you giggle softly at how adorable he is. You take his hand in yours and place them on your tender breast, and you watch at how his once flustered and shy expression became a hungry and erotic one.  You give him a soft kiss on his plush lips before gently grabbing his aching cock and aligning it with your entrance.

“m’ ready whenever you are, baby” you coo. Bucky nods his head in response, and slowly enters you. He gasps at the sensation and remains motionless inside of you for some time as he tries to get used to the intense and overwhelming sensation of your warmth.

 “too much f’you?”  You ask him, more than willing to call it quits if he wanted to. Your main focus was to keep him comfortable. You only receive a breathy “nuh uh” in response, and before you knew it, Bucky was pounding into you relentlessly. “Bucky!” You moan blissfully, throwing your head back against your pillow, and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

“f-fuck y/n, s-so warm! feels so good!” Bucky slurs as he continues to jackhammer into you, the feeling of your wet pussy tightening around his cock sending him into overdrive. He buries his head into your neck, whimpering and whining for you. 

You bring your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft brown locks, which is something that Bucky couldn’t get enough of. You were practically screaming at the way he thrusted in and out of you rapidly. Each time he’d thrust back into you, he’d hit that spot inside you that sends you right over the edge.

“Bucky, you’re doing so well, making me feel so good!” you praise him. He rutted into you even harder at your praise. The sounds you were both making were those of a pornographic film, one you would definitely watch.

 Bucky was a pathetic, babbling mess for you, tears streaming down his face from how good you feel.

“m-my cock... s-so deep inside you...!” Your sweet boy was so pussy drunk; he couldn’t form a complete sentence. His thrusts only got harder and deeper as he loses himself in your feeling. He sobbed, the thought of filling you with every last drop of his cum making his balls tighten. 

“fuckfuckfuck, so close! can I please cum in you? can i? want to cum in you, y/n! I need it!” Bucky pleaded as he continued railing into you balls deep like a savage animal. 

“Go on, sweet baby. cum in me, fill me up.” You say between heavy pants. Your back arches, your hips meeting his as you chase your own orgasm. Bucky’s mind went blank as he released his load into you, his cock pulsating extremely fast in your pussy, which in turn makes you cum right after him. He never stopped his thrusts into your now sensitive and fucked out pussy.

“James, too much okay? m’ sensitive..’’ you mumble shakily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm you just had. 

 “please, y/n.. one more, just feels so good..”

 You nod your head, giving him permission to cum a second time. You tried to pay no mind to how overstimulated you are as Bucky begins to fuck you into the bed, chasing his orgasm for the third time today. He gripped your hips and angled you so he could get deeper inside you. 

You scrunch your face in discomfort at the almost unbearable sensations you were feeling, but the pain quickly subsided into an undeniable pleasure. Your legs begin to tremble around Bucky’s waist, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.

Bucky leaned down to bury his face in your neck again, and you felt hot tears fall onto your skin. He wanted to scream out-- his third orgasm was only seconds away, but he couldn’t manage any words. Only broken and pathetic whimpers came from him, as he railed in and out of you, over and over again, neither of you caring how overstimulated you were. An intense shiver runs down your spine and through your body. You almost couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of his swollen cock hitting your g-spot making you lose all control,

“fuck Bucky, gonna make me cum again!” You wail. You can feel that he’s close too, his cock twitching madly inside your velvety walls. Bucky lets out the most broken and pathetic cry as he bites your shoulder, making you wince slightly.

“y/n..feels so good, feels so fucking good..” Bucky cries softly in between thrusts. “f-fuck! m’ gonna cum inside you again!”

“go ahead, baby. m’ right behind you..” You whisper as you stare at his beautifully fucked out face, nearing your orgasm as well. His thrusts become sloppier and more desperate as he cries out for you.

 You watch Bucky’s eyes roll back as his warm cum fills you up. You follow after him, pussy fluttering around his pulsating shaft. Your liquid drips out your pussy and onto the bed. He thrusts in you balls deep a few more times before falling limp on top of you, cock still buried inside you. 

You and Bucky were both too exhausted to move as you lay there panting heavily. Your fingers massage his sweaty scalp, and his breathing begins to even out slowly.

“that was so.. you made me feel so-” Bucky tries to speak, but only manages to make a few words come out. You kiss his head softly, and he sighs contently as you continue to play with his hair. 

“you did so well, Jamie...” You praise him before looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside you.

“come on, Buck. It’s getting late. let’s clean up, okay?” 

Bucky shakes his head no at your words as he buries his face deeper into your neck. 

“don’t wanna pull out just yet. you feel so warm..” Bucky mumbles, pulling the covers over the both of you. He was already exhausted from cumming all those times today, and the feeling of your fingers playing with his hair ever so softly made him even more sleepy. Just this once you would make the exception of sleeping on sheets this dirty. If it were anyone else you would have refused immediately. 

“okay love, we’ll stay here for a while then.” you coo at him, shifting slightly and relaxing in the position you were in. Bucky lets out the cutest little yawn, and a few moments after, begins to softly snore. You stay there, watching your little baby looking the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

#buckybabieboy #sub!bucky barnes #dom!reader #sub bucky barnes #sebastian stan #imagines #marvel #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #touch starved #female reader #needy bucky x reader #sub bucky barnes x you #sub bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky blurb #bucky smut #captain america #bucky imagine #subby bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes blurb #tfatws #chubby dumpling

[butwhatifidothis]

I'm honestly 1 straw away from barging into the comments section of the fic to rip cap a new one after reading your notes on the latest chapter. This is DISGUSTING. Imaging telling a genocide survivor it's their fault because they didn't do their responsibilities.

Along with the racism, sexism, and ableism. I think it's safe to say that Cap isn't just a bad writer but an asshole too. Because not once when writing this did he ever think "hey this may not be ok to write". I feel that he genuinely believes this stuff deep down.

Honestly I welcome the day the internet rips this fic apart.

(sorry if this may be harsh. I just love the lettuce fam alot and seeing this stuff be written down knowing how popular this fic is and how it's seen as cannon to many just fills me with rage)

Different nonnie: You know, I mostly just roll my eyes at the fic and enjoy the commentary. The fic rarely makes me truly angry. But WHAT THE FUCK.

Different nonnie: I could not even read through that last part with your notes. I’m just disgusted. Remember kiddies! If someone would rather protect their family than grovel at your feet they are irredeemable.

Lemme preface this with saying that I still don't condone going to the fic and leaving disparaging comments, and that I still try to maintain that since I don’t know Cap'n irl I can't make any sound moral judgements of his actual character.

What I can say with confidence, however, is that at the very least, his writing - intentionally or not - is some of the most genuinely morally repugnant I've seen written in a fanfiction that wasn't deliberately meant to be such (like in a dark!fic). The constant and consistent victim blaming of literal genocide survivors that not only never goes away, but will go on to somehow get even worse, is some of the most uncomfortable I've ever been reading a fic. And not because it was meant to make me feel that way, but precisely because it wasn't.

That anyone - let alone multiple people - can sit there with their full chests and say "yeah, genocide was kinda cringe, but the survivors of the genocide didn't react in the way that most benefited the race that genocided them! They didn't consider how their actions would affect specifically the protagonist and her friends when they made their choices a thousand years before these people were born! And really, maybe they had it coming with how they must have mistreated humans beforehand! Really, they're no better than the people that genocided them!" and mean that, in a positive connotation is just. Disgusting? Let's go with that. It's very disgusting.

And also, just. There’s like. A very strange and manipulative theme of “ignoring/shitting on someone until/unless they can be used to make yourself look better” that goes on from Woobiegard’s side of things. Sylvain’s suffering and his reaction to it as he sets off to kill his own older brother on the orders of his own father? Treated as an inconvenience to Woobiegard, until it can be used to distract from Dimitri’s rightful criticism of Woobiegard. Ingrid's father? Repeatedly and unendingly called misogynistic, awful, verbally abusive, until he can be used against Seteth, because Ingrid is “a daughter” and thus Seteth fighting against her to protect his own daughter is somehow hypocritical. Like liege like knight, I guess.

And just. The whole “If you REALLY cared about Rhea you’d stay by her side no matter what!” mentality is just. It says so much about the fic’s narrative. No, Seteth, actually, you should have endangered the life of your only daughter, because otherwise you aren’t completely and utterly loyal to your sister and thus you don’t actually care about your family. No, Byleth, actually, you should always stay by Woobiegard no matter what she does to you or your friends or to Fodlan, because otherwise you failed her and don’t deserve her love and you have to keep earning her love (ohhh ho ho can’t wait for THOSE notes to drop lmao). No, Black Eagles, actually, you should always center the world around you and your problems to the exclusion of everyone else, because otherwise you will all become emotionless husks who are all incapable of caring and loving yourselves. There’s this unnerving theme of absolutism, a completely stark black-and-white “if x then y” cause-and-effect where if you don’t do this morally questionable thing that has been presented as the One Good Moral Option With No Nuance Whatsoever, then you will suffer immensely with no question or way to stop it.

Like, this fic has had a lot - a lot - of problematic elements to it, but it’s when the Nabateans get involved that things take a nosedive. The racism goes from something that could be picked up but possibly explained away to “yeah no Woobiegard is feeling rage and disgust just from looking at Flayn explicitly because she is a Nabatean.” The victim blaming is ramped up to 11 billion, straight up saying that genocide survivors are on par with the people who committed genocide against them because Marianne Was Sad Too Once (because her ancestor was one of the people who directly benefited from said genocide and rightfully got fucked for doing so). Misandry is just straight up a character trait at this point, repeatedly physically assaulting Seteth whenever he dares step out of Ingrid’s line (and he’s not the only man who’s gotten or will get this sort of treatment - remember, in Chapter 36 Ingrid also threatened to use Luin against Sculptor Guy because he made her Mad and nothing else - but he’s the one where it’s portrayed as the most righteous that it happens). 

If this were intentional, I’d applaud the fic for steadily building the moral bankruptcy from something that could maybe possibly be explained away if you’re being really generous (and/or naïve) to outright and blatant racism, sexism, religiophobia, etc. etc., because watching this shit slowly get worse and worse until the crescendo of “these genocide survivors are no better than their genociders,” “physically assaulting men who step out of women’s lines is morally righteous,” “looking at someone and feeling disgust and hatred due to them being a certain race is understandable because their race as a whole is to blame for the world’s problems” is like. Such an unnerving thing to read. But it. It like. Wasn’t intentional though. Everyone doing the horrific things is treated as a paragon of morality and goodness and righteousness, and their victims painted as their abusers, and it’s like. Played completely straight. So it’s like. Yeah I can definitely understand the anger

#ask #anon #exqueuese me princess #o captain my captain #like wow. WOW. it's indescribable how awful this fic is #its rhetoric is genuinely disgusting

[lesbianclaryfray]

underneath my skin's an intrinsic shrine

Written for @shadowhunterbingo

Square filled: “wing fic”

Rating: E

Pairing: Clary/Maia

Warnings: explicit sexual content

read on ao3

Their bedroom smells like jasmine and vanilla and hairspray. Jasmine from the vase of flowers in the corner, vanilla from the scented candle still burning away, hairspray wafting in through the open door of the bathroom. The blinds are drawn, the only light coming from the hallway — and that candle, burning patiently.

Clary and Maia enter in a haste, hands itching to grab at each other’s clothes. The moment they’re within five feet of the bed, Maia pulls Clary in for a wet, passionate kiss.

“Someone’s eager,” Clary teases.

“Yeah, yeah,” Maia says against her lips. “Says the girl feeling me up under the table all night.”

“Let’s call it even, then,” Clary says before diving back in for another kiss. Her hands gently but insistently pull at the fabric of Maia’s blouse, tugging it out from under her skirt, and she reluctantly breaks the kiss to pull the blouse over Maia’s head and completely off.

“Wow…” Clary whispers, which is what she always does when she sees Maia in any state of undress. She’s seen her naked so many times before — after a fight when Maia is shrugging clothes back on after shifting back, after a shower when Maia is wrapping a towel around herself, while getting dressed in the morning in their shared apartment, and of course, the countless other times they’ve reached for each other desperately before tumbling into bed — but the awe of undressing her never fades. Clary doesn’t just think, but knows, that Maia Roberts is the most beautiful person in the world. And when she bares herself like this to Clary, with warm and trusting eyes and scarred skin seeming to glow in the light, Clary feels like she’s looking at something holy.

( Heaven and the Angels have nothing on your breasts, she wants to say.)

Maia kisses her again, and this time Clary busies herself with unbuttoning Maia’s skirt — until Maia’s lips move to her neck and Clary loses all control of her limbs and can only cling to Maia’s hips for dear life while her love sucks a bruise into her skin.

“Why are we still wearing clothes?” Clary groans when Maia has moved on from the hickey and is instead placing gentle kisses along Clary’s throat and jaw.

“I don’t know,” Maia says. “You should probably do something about that.”

Clary agrees. She returns her attention to Maia’s skirt and undoes the last few buttons before pulling it down. Maia lets it drop to the floor and steps out of it, kicking her shoes off in the process. Clary quickly pulls her hair over her shoulder and turns to present the back of her dress to Maia. Maia unzips it for her, then helps her peel it off completely. Maia pulls her close then, her chest to Clary’s back, and presses her lips to her shoulder while she unhooks Clary’s bra. When the garment is off, she only steps back far enough to be able to trace a finger down the lines of Clary’s back. The touch is just shy of tickling, but Clary doesn’t mind. In fact, she lives for these moments, and she knows that Maia does too.

“Can I…can I see them again?” Maia asks softly.

“Yes,” Clary says. She steps forward, just to be a safe distance away, and closes her eyes. She doesn’t need the rune to summon them anymore, and she’s finally managed to block Raziel’s attempts to push back. They are now hers and hers alone.

And Maia’s. Maybe, mostly, Maia’s.

With a deep breath she summons them. Maia lets out an awed gasp as two great white wings arc above Clary’s shoulders, glowing bright for a moment before settling in place on her back. Clary folds them behind her. Maia gingerly touches one, and Clary feels the heat of her hand as if she’s grabbed her arm, or her face, or her thigh.

“Beautiful,” Maia mutters.

Clary turns to face her, and almost subconsciously wraps her wings around Maia’s frame, pulling her closer until their chests are pressed together. Her lips find Maia’s. “I love you,” she mutters into the kiss. Maia’s mumbled reply is swallowed up by Clary’s eager lips. They hold onto each other, and Clary pulls Maia back with her until they reach the bed. Clary lands on her back on the soft pillows. Her hair spreads like a halo around her head and her wings splay out on the blue sheets. Maia climbs on top of her and kisses her again and again and again. Then her lips trail over to Clary’s jaw, and her finger begins to stroke a single feather on Clary’s left wing.

“Are you sure—?” she begins to ask.

In answer, Clary spreads her legs, wrapping them around Maia’s waist. Maia smiles against her chin and lowers her lips. Her kisses are gentle, feather-like connections with Clary’s skin, lingering for only a moment or two before she moves on. From Clary’s jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone, to the space between her breasts. Finally, she pushes herself up and takes one of Clary’s breasts in her hands and, with one last look up at her from beneath her dark lashes, Maia takes the other breast into her mouth.

The pleasure is instant. The wet warmth of Maia’s mouth combined with the circular motions of her thumb around Clary’s nipple have her throwing her head back and gasping before Maia’s even truly started. If her arousal wasn’t strong before (and from where Maia’s sitting, she can tell that it was), it’s now growing rapidly. When Maia’s teeth gently graze her nipple before she gives it one last lick, Clary has to fight to stay put.

Sensing her tension, Maia smiles. “You’re getting impatient again,” she says, but there is no heat or warning to her tone. She loves how eager Clary gets when they’re in bed together. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t just as impatient herself. But she holds back, because she wants to take her time, to give Clary as much pleasure as possible, and she knows that Clary would do the same for her.

She starts to lick Clary’s other breast while her hands trail slowly down the redhead’s sides. She hooks one finger under the waistband of Clary’s panties and begins to pull.

Clary’s wings flap once, forcefully, in anticipation, sending a gust of wind that flutters the curtains. Maia chuckles as Clary flushes, more in embarrassment than arousal now, and fails to hold back a laugh of her own. She adjusts her legs so it’s easier for Maia to take her underwear off. Maia throws them somewhere over her shoulder and climbs back up the length of Clary’s body. If Clary sees heaven when she looks at Maia, Maia sees everything else when she looks at Clary. The blue sky and the bluer ocean and the unexplored deep and a million galaxies mankind has yet to discover. The woman beneath her is her everything. She’s something deep and unknowable and welcoming. Her undoing and her salvation. And if she wasn't naked and wet and waiting under her right now, Maia would stop everything to say all of that out loud. But it's rude to keep a lady waiting.

When Maia’s fingers first find their way between Clary’s legs, the latter’s eyes flutter closed. They do this routine often, so often they know the steps like a dance: Maia working slowly and tirelessly, her hand everywhere but where Clary needs her the most, and Clary breathing heavily, her hands clutching the sheets and Maia’s shoulders and everything else that’s within reach. But every time, it's just a bit different. And every time, no matter what, it brings about indescribable pleasure.

Maia’s thumb caresses Clary’s clit after what truly feels like forever. Clary’s body reacts instantly. Her back arches off the bed and her wings — those beautiful great wings that fit so perfectly around Maia every time, as if they were made to hold her — lift off the bed and wrap around Maia’s shoulders, holding her close.

Once upon a time, Maia would have felt conflicted about them, these wings that Clary had given herself using Angelic powers. But ever since the Angels cast Clary out, ever since she turned her back on them in turn and reclaimed the power as her own, her wings have felt less like a consequence of an Angelic gift she’d never asked for and more like an extension of her. They are warm and soft and when it comes to Maia, they seem to have a mind of their own. And Maia loves them. She loves the way they sometimes extend over her sleeping form when Clary’s spooning her. She loves the way Clary sometimes brings them out when they’re outside together, watching clouds or stars, so Maia has something soft to lay on. She loves the way Clary holds her close with them when Maia is naked in her lap, keeping her warm and safe no matter how exposed she is.

Maia smiles and leans down to kiss the side of Clary’s mouth as she continues to gently stroke her. Clary chases her lips and earns a kiss on the mouth as well.

“Maia…” she mumbles, nuzzling Maia’s neck and kissing the hollow of her throat. “

“Yeah, baby?”

Clary opens her eyes. “Take off your goddamn bra.”

They both laugh and Maia shifts, as much as the wings will allow her, until she’s unhooked her bra. She leans over again so Clary has a clear view of her cleavage, then lets the bra straps slip from her shoulders. Clary snatches it up and tosses it off the bed as if afraid that Maia will put it back on again.

“Thank you,” she says, pushing herself up to kiss the tattoo under Maia’s left breast. She looks up into Maia’s eyes. “You can go back to doing what you were doing now.”

And Maia does just that. Her fingers continue to circle Clary’s wet folds, her thumb gently and, often, teasingly rubbing her clit, and watching Clary gasp and moan and cling to her with need. Eventually, Maia slips a finger inside her, and Clary’s wings bristle.

Maia kisses her jaw. “You okay?”

Clary nods feverishly. Then, as if her wings aren’t doing a fine enough job of it, she wraps her arms around Maia too and uses them to pull her in for an open-mouthed kiss. Her hands trail over Maia’s bare back, then down to her hips, then up her sides until she’s cupping both of Maia’s breasts. Maia’s breath hitches at the contact, and it takes her more than a moment to be able to focus back on what she’s supposed to be doing.

She thrusts her finger slowly in and out of Clary a few times before adding a second. And then a third. And the whole time Clary grips and kisses and bites various parts of her body — and the sheets beneath them, and Maia kisses every inch of her skin that she can reach from her position. And her wings slowly lose their hold on Maia, instead beginning to flap and flutter in reaction to the intense pleasure.

Before long, Clary's hold on Maia stiffens and she throws her head back in a moan as she climaxes. Then she falls back against the bed, limp and panting, wings fluttering.

“That…was…” she sighs contentedly, ecstasy still on her face. She opens one eye halfway and gives Maia a small smile. “Wow. Give me one minute, okay?”

“‘Course, baby,” Maia says, lying down on top of her and waiting patiently. She loves watching Clary like this: hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, limbs splayed across the bed, and that euphoric look on her face. With a view this beautiful, Maia doesn’t mind waiting her turn one bit.

A few minutes later, Clary starts to sit up, and Maia rolls halfway off of her to allow it. Clary reaches for a water bottle on their bedside table and sips at it. She offers it to Maia, who also takes a sip before putting it back.

“Okay, now,” Maia says, tracing a finger up and down Clary’s stomach as she gives her a teasing look. “Where were we?”

Clary smirks, as if to say, Oh, I’ll remind you, and switches their positions so quickly that Maia is left to wonder whether she’s activated her speed rune.

With Maia on her back, Clary positions herself between her legs and leans down to kiss her. This is another part of their dance:

Maia is attentive and focused and so, so, so good at what she does and in the time they’re together like this, all she cares about is making Clary feel good. It makes her feel good too, of course, especially with Clary’s hands on her breasts and Clary’s wings on her back, but Maia’s own focus is on making certain her girlfriend is getting as much out of the experience as possible. But when Clary starts to kiss her like this — slow and deep, her tongue in Maia’s mouth guiding the kiss — Maia knows what it’s signaling. That it’s Clary’s turn to take care of her now. That Maia just has to sit back and relax and not worry about a thing in the world.

They don’t always do the same dance, but this kiss from Clary is almost always there to remind Maia that all she needs to do now is feel good .

Clary pulls away slowly, looking down at Maia with half-hooded eyes.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Maia says.

They smile at each other for a long moment. Then Clary places a kiss on Maia’s cheek, then her jaw, then her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, her chest. Each breast. Down the lengths of her arms. Her stomach and sides. Her thighs. Knees. Ankles. She takes her time kissing every inch of Maia’s body, her hands roaming Maia’s skin all the while. When she finally arrives at the practically-soaked underwear, Maia is breathing heavily and urging her on with her eyes.

Clary sits on her hands and knees, spreads her wings wide, and begins to mouth at Maia’s pussy over the fabric.

Maia makes a noise that is half-squeal, half-groan. “Clary…” she says breathlessly.

Clary knows she doesn’t expect an answer, so she doesn’t bother stopping what she’s doing with her mouth. She alternates between kissing Maia’s thighs and the space between them for what feels to her like barely more than a minute, and to Maia like an eternity. Then Clary uses one hand to carefully push the fabric of Maia’s panties aside, granting her full access to the main event without having to take them off Maia.

Maia moans beautifully when Clary starts to lick her directly, her tongue moving in slow, deep circles. And then, when Clary’s tongue flicks her clit, Maia cries out and buries both hands in Clary’s hair.

Clary giggles and turns her head to kiss the inside of Maia’s palm.

“You doing okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” Maia says, biting her lip. “Just— don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clary says, and dives back in. Maia writhes in pleasure and lifts her hips off the bed, one hand leaving Clary’s tangled locks to grab her own breast. That’s my job , Clary thinks distantly, but doesn’t dwell on it. She lowers one wing to Maia’s face and caresses her cheek with the soft feathers, making Maia smile. Then she continues to lick and tease Maia with her tongue.

Until Maia gasps and shudders and twists her hand in her Clary’s hair as she’s overtaken by waves of pleasure.

Clary doesn’t stop until Maia is gently tugging her up to kiss her deeply, tasting herself on Clary’s tongue. Then she lies back and smiles, playing with the strands of Clary’s hair still in her hands. Clary adjusts herself so she’s lying next to Maia and drapes one wing over their still-naked forms. Maia turns into her arms, facing her, smiling broadly.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” Clary says more than asks.

“Always,” Maia says. “I love you.”

Clary kisses her on the forehead. “I love you too!”

Maia glances at the white feathers on top of her. “Does it take a lot of effort? To keep them out, I mean.”

“No.” Clary shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind if it did, though. You like them.”

“Oh, I more than like them.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

Maia laughs and wraps her arms around Clary’s middle. Her hair tickles Clary’s chest and nose, but Clary isn’t bothered by it.

“They feel nice,” Maia says after a moment. “They feel like…”

“Yeah,” Clary says. “You feel like that for me.”

“I love you,” Maia says again.

Clary kisses her.

#shadowhunterbingo #sh fic #claia #clary x maia #maia x clary #mine #my writing #... #no comment!

[shyneanon]

Aaaaand guess who’s been writing a lot this week? THE HAREM FIC, entitled The Skeleton Magnet, HAS NOW BEGUN! Hoo boy! I’m not sure how much I’ll be posting it on Tumblr, because like the MF one, the chapters are long. We’ll see. But IT IS ON AO3. The one-shot that started it ended up being the first half of chapter one, so I’ll post the second half of chapter 1 here on Tumblr this time. Enjoyyyy.

---

You were right about your boss’s response.

He was a good guy. He was… pretty horrified that you’d willingly gone up to that house despite the obvious signs that it was bad news. You’d gotten a good scolding, as if he were your dad or something, but you appreciated it. Even though he knew the customers who’d ordered the pizza would be pissed, he was just glad you were safe. He made a joke about how he’d be in trouble if you went missing on the job, but you knew that he actually cared.

Still, the image of that one red eye was burned into your mind.

At least you had a creepy story to post online?

Since you were still shaken up, the next day felt way better than usual, even though it was just as busy as most weekdays. Nobody had a giant hole in their head, which was nice. Even the meaner customers felt like nothing.

Eventually, there was a delivery to a nice suburban neighborhood nearby. You knew the way there without having to check your GPS, so that was nice. You were able to get there with the pizza box still warm. Nice.

You knocked on the door and heard some yelling on the other side, followed by the thumping of a pair of feet eagerly making their way towards the door. It was swung open— and for a split second you had a ‘Nam flashback to last night. This guy… had the same shape.

It only took you a millisecond to relax.

Not only was this guy shorter than the last guy— he looked to be a little shorter than you, even— but he looked significantly friendlier. No hole in his head. Good start. He also had a pair of eyes rather than one, and they were shaped like big stars. The grin on his face was more sincere and rounded, and his clothes were immaculately clean. He was dressed almost like… a funny soldier? But in white and blue, and with a big bandanna tied around his neck. He beamed, and you instantly felt a lot better than you had half a second ago.

“HELLO, PIZZA DELIVERY HUMAN!”

You started a bit. Oh geez, this guy was loud. Kind of like the tall guy from last night, actually. Still, you smiled. The big stars in his eyes were endearing. “Hi there.”

“WOWZERS! YOU MADE IT HERE EARLIER THAN EXPECTED! YOU ARE VERY GOOD AT YOUR JOB!”

… For some reason, that made your whole night seem so much better. “Thanks,” you said. “I’ve delivered to this neighborhood a lot of times.”

“YOU HAVE? AW. I’VE NEVER SEEN YOU!” His smile had disappeared for a moment, but it quickly returned in full force. “WHICH IS TOO BAD, BUT NOW I FINALLY HAVE THE CHANCE TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE AND BECOME YOUR FRIEND!”

Wow, this little guy moved fast, huh?

A much quieter, more relaxed voice sounded from inside the house. “Already becoming friends, huh?”

“YES, OF COURSE! MAKING FRIENDS IS WHAT I DO BEST! AND I’M GREAT AT EVERYTHING!”

So he had a bit of an ego, but it seemed harmless enough.

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN?” The stars in his eyes somehow got bigger.

“I’m (y/n),” you told him, still smiling. Those big stars really were endearing.

“IT IS GREAT TO MEET YOU, (Y/N)!” He gestured to himself, and somehow the bandanna kind of looked like it was blowing in imaginary wind. “I AM THE MAGNIFICENT SSSSSSSBLUEBERRY.” As he said it he seemed to catch himself, the little lights in his eye sockets shrinking slowly the longer the S sound continued. But he perked up again right after he said it, raising an eyebrow. “I COULD SEE HOW YOU WERE STARING AT ME EARLIER!”

Uh oh. He’d noticed that? He didn’t look pissed about it, so why—

“I CAN TELL THAT YOU OBVIOUSLY FIND ME VERY HANDSOME! WHICH IS NO SURPRISE, SEEING AS I AM!”

Well, that… hadn’t been the assumption you’d been expecting. You felt your face get a little warm, but his confidence was so endearing that you couldn’t be too embarrassed. In fact, you decided to indulge him, tsking in disappointment. “Oh boy, I thought I was being subtle about it.”

“YOU WERE NOT, BUT IT IS UNDERSTANDABLE! IT MUST BE HARD NOT TO STARE AT SOMEONE AS DASHING AS MYSELF!”

His smile seemed to soften, and… was he blushing a blue color? Wait, did skeletons have blood? Blue blood? But they were made of magic, right?

“Y… YOU YOURSELF ARE QUITE BEAUTIFUL!”

… Oh my gosh help he’s so cute.

That same voice from earlier called out, but this time you saw someone approaching the door. “Man, you’re really putting the moves on her, huh? I gotta see this girl if the Magnificent Blueberry’s so interested.”

Blueberry’s blush only got darker, and you got a look at the new stranger. Again, you were hit with a pang of fear that dissipated quickly once you got a better look at him. He looked like the tall guy from last night! But not quite as tall, and cleaner. Not super clean, like Blueberry— the orange hoodie he was wearing had some stains on it. But it was nothing compared to last night. Still, these two looked uncannily similar to the former skeletons. Just if the creepiness was removed and “Sans” was actually super adorable.

“... You OK?”

You realized you’d been staring again. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just… You two look… really similar to some guys I met yesterday.”

“OH!” said Blueberry. “DID YOU MEET VANILLA?”

Who? “Um,” you said, “no. These guys were creepy.” You winked. “Unlike you.”

Blueberry blushed again, which seemed to amuse his companion as much as it did you. Still, said companion looked further into the house.

“Was it Red and Edge?”

Blueberry frowned. “I’M SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH THEM. WE’LL TELL THEM TO LEAVE YOU ALONE.”

Nope, not them either. “Oh, uh, no. I’ve never delivered to this house before. These guys were living outside of the city. Even their house was creepy.”

They seemed surprised and even exchanged a glance, but they relaxed quickly and the taller one held his free hand out. You noticed the other one was holding a cigarette in between two fingers.

“Well, my name’s Stretch.”

You focused on shaking his free hand rather than wondering how a skeleton could smoke if they didn’t have lungs. “Nice to meet you.” You swore these were the friendliest customers you’d ever had.

“It’s berry nice to meet you too,” he replied with a silly, contagious grin.

Blueberry responded by making a loud, indescribable noise of indignation. “PAPY! REALLY?”

“Sorry, buddy. Couldn’t resist.” He looked at you for a second. “I see why you were flirting with her, bro. She’s definitely something.”

You could tell he was (mostly) kidding, but your face still heated up when he gave you a casual wink. Not sure how to respond (you weren’t fantastic at witty banter), you held their pizza out to them. “Hey, I bet this is getting cold.”

“Oh yeah,” said Stretch, and took the box of pizza. “Man, that smells good.”

Blueberry put his hands on his hips. “MY BROTHER EATS TOO MUCH GREASY FOOD! I USUALLY EAT MUCH BETTER! IT’S IMPORTANT TO KEEP YOUR BODY FIT!” He grinned. “BUT TODAY IS MY CHEAT DAY!”

He let out a funny laugh— “MWEH HEH HEH!”— and you were pretty sure your heart was going to explode.

On a more observant note… so they were brothers. It made you wonder if the guys from last night were also brothers, but it made no sense to make assumptions like that. Those guys were a separate set of people. It’s not like these two were actually the same guys.

Even if they really, really had a weird resemblance to each other…

“We’ll let you get back to work,” said Stretch. “I bet we’ve distracted you for long enough. We paid online, right, bro?”

“YES!” said Blueberry. The soft blue color returned to his cheeks. “BUT, UM… I— I WAS WONDERING IF PERHAPS I COULD ASK YOU SOMETHING.”

You? “Sure, Blueberry, anything.”

He beamed, no longer looking shy. “IT WOULD BE WONDERFUL IF YOU COULD GIVE THE MAGNIFICENT BLUEBERRY YOUR NUMBER! FRIENDS SHOULD KEEP IN TOUCH!”

You actually hesitated. He seemed like he had a crush on you— which was kind of flattering, in a way— but you didn’t want to lead him on. That said, he had called you his friend. But he had thought you were admiring him earlier…

To be safe, you decided to respond with, “Sure. Platonically.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem disappointed at all. “OF COURSE! AS I SAID EARLIER, MAKING FRIENDS IS MY SPECIALTY!”

He pulled out his phone and held it out to you, and you put your number in before handing it back. He seemed thrilled.

“THANK YOU!”

You smiled. “No problem,” you told him.

Stretch spoke up: “Mind if I text you too? Any friend of my bro’s is a friend of mine.”

He shrugged casually, so he didn’t seem to mean anything by it either. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“OOH!” said Blueberry. “I ALMOST FORGOT THE TIP! I AM SO SORRY!”

He pulled out some money from his pocket and handed it to you. “Thanks,” you said, casually glancing at it— Wait, is that a twenty-dollar bill!?

“Um!” you said. “I think you gave me the wrong bill.” You showed it to him.

He cocked his head, seeming confused. “NO, IT’S THE RIGHT BILL!”

You looked back at it, then back at him.

This man is an angel.

“Thank you,” you told him. Seriously, you have no idea.

“IT IS NO PROBLEM FOR ALL OF YOUR TROUBLE!” He beamed. “HAVE A GOOD REST OF YOUR NIGHT! THANK YOU FOR THE PIZZA!”

Stretch casually saluted you with two fingers. “See ya.”

You waved, and once the door closed you realized just how wide your smile was. Man. This was so much better than last night.

Well, time to get back to work. But the rest of your night would feel brighter from here.

When you got home, you checked your phone to find several messages. You could see that both threads were from unknown numbers, and that one had way more messages than the other. The first one was also from way earlier in the night than the other.

Unknown number: HELLO, (Y/N)! IT’S ME, BLUEBERRY!

Unknown number: I HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY! I FORGOT TO ASK HOW YOUR DAY WAS!

Unknown number: THE PIZZA WAS REALLY GOOD!

Unknown number: WOW, I JUST REALIZED HOW LATE YOU WORK! DO YOU WORK ALL NIGHT? THAT SOUNDS HARD!

Unknown number: MY BROTHER COULD NEVER WORK THAT MUCH! ALL HE DOES IS SLEEP ALL THE TIME!

Unknown number: BUT I LOVE HIM!

Unknown number: ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU’RE DOING ALRIGHT! AND THAT YOU’RE NOT READING THESE WHILE YOU’RE DRIVING! YOU SHOULD PAY ATTENTION TO THE ROAD! GOODNIGHT!

That was really sweet. He was obviously not asking you about how you were to be polite, he cared. It made you feel special. So you went ahead and added him to your contacts. You considered some type of pun, but seeing as Blue didn’t seem to like puns, you instead added him as “Mweh Heh Heh!” The laugh was just… too cute.

You responded by telling him your night was good, you hoped theirs was too, you were glad they liked the pizza, and that yes, your job could be rough.

You checked the other thread.

Unknown number: hey.

You snorted. There was no need to guess who that was. Well, you wanted to use a pun for him, but… Stretch….

You settled for “Orange You Stretch?” and did your best to give him a snarky reply.

You: You’re chatty, huh?

Alright. Now was the time to go to bed. At least you’d made some new friends.

You could never have too many of those.

#fanfiction #sans x reader #self-insert #reader-insert #reverse harem #the skeleton magnet

[julies-butterflies]

I know the feeling, I think, in my own way. It's the pain you don't expect, the little reminders, the details of life that somehow change. Grief is a tricky thing, always finding a new way to surprise you.

I lost my grandparents a few years back and that scene from regenisis made me remember that conversation so vividly. That moment when it just hits, all of a sudden, how fast and real the possibility is. How soon. When you finally have to face the truth. When you have to let go. And you talked about it so well...

You put words to these indescribable feelings, these moments, in this simple, vivid way. You have that Writer's Gift. You've made me sob, you've made me laugh hysterically, you've made me rage. There's a lifetime of emotion in your words. Those glass shards turn to diamonds. It's an honor, to be allowed to read these stories you've poured your soul into.

Man, I full-on Pattersoned pep talked you. Whoops. No regrets. You're a wrecking ball of talent and I shall sing your praise forever.

Speaking of the disaster gremlin...guess who sent in the Emily and Luke prompt? Yeah that was everything I've ever wanted. Wow.

Just the way you write the two of them...Luke is so clearly his mother's son. The moment when Emily decided to be a little petty as she woke him up it just hit me how alike they are. And I snorted when she swore, and that last line!!! When she promised she'd always be there! Pain. Unbelievable pain. You just write the love in their relationship so well, and that just makes the ending even more tragic. ( I read your authors note. As if I WASN'T crying already. Thanks for reminding me of "Oh he wanted to be held. he wanted to say everything" which haunts me day and night by the way). Also, wow, Sick Luke refusing to rest is litterally me.

Oh and I sent the Juke too. God that was everything. I'm incredibly soft for the way you write them, it just makes me melt. And the chaos of your luke descriptions END ME.

Oh, please don't even worry about getting the prompts out fast! Take care of yourself fiancee. I enjoy them whenever they pop up. It gives me something to look forward to.

Speaking of WIPS, did you just say MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH? HELLO??? I'M SO INTRIGUED AND TERRIFIED AND EXCITED NOW????

Can't wait for triple threat and himbos. I'm so ready.

OH and I forgot to ask: do you have a Goblin fancast?

-Vampire Anon <3

Oh my god... you're not kidding. Grief is a special type of agony that's really impossible to describe, to fully comprehend, until you've lived it. How awful is that? It's like... we can share our pain with the world, but it will only fully resonate with someone who can draw on their own personal experiences. Of course, it doesn't have to be identical --- like, how many people have had to deal with their ghost bestie potentially fading out of existence --- but it hits something deeply personal, some emotional blister that will never fully heal, and it hurts. Hurts in... a cathartic way, I hope. Some pain doesn't simply demand to be felt, it has to be, or else it'll fester... and there's no healing, once you've gotten to that point.

I think of, like... The Body, the one Buffy episode that absolutely guts everyone when they watch it. Like, that's such a specific situation being portrayed... it's not even supernatural, like the rest of the show, just a deeply personal experience of someone dying, and the people around them processing it. But holy shit, does it hit, and continue to hit all these years later. It's raw emotion, it's... it's real in the very worst way. Confronting that grief head-on does something to you.

I want to do the same with my writing... I think? I don't want anyone to suffer because I've dredged up pain for them, but sometimes... pain can help? I don't know. I don't know.

Sorry, I'm a little scattered tonight. There's... a lot going on. Things are... rough for my family, and I've kind of got that grief brainrot right now lol.

But your Patterson pep talk is exactly what I need, V-Anon! Thank you thank you, I cried a little reading that.... ashhjsjkskskj you're just stroking my little sea polyp of an ego until it turns into a mermaid again, huh? (Not me referencing Buffy and The Little Mermaid in one reply, god help us all.)

So so glad you liked the Emily and Luke prompt! I'm currently working on a few more, so... we'll see how that comes along, hopefully soon. And I've made a taglist, for the first ever time! Also have no idea how that's going to go.

I love exploring the Patterson relationship dynamic so, so much. Emily is one of my favorite characters to write... unexpectedly, bc a large chunk of the fandom doesn't have much sympathy for her, for understandable reasons. I just... try to find the humanity of the situation, the grey areas of love and loss that make their tragedy all the more painful. I... guess it's working? Haha, who doesn't love a good foregone tragic conclusion.

And I'm not giving away anything about the Carrie fic yet! Just that I have big plans for it, whenever it actually gets finished! Not going to murder anyone without a lot of thought put into it in advance!

as for Goblin... ahshsjkjs, he's a fluffy little daschund puppy, so I kind of imagined something like this?? Only with a bit more color.

Love and potentially-tetanusey neck-bitey kisses, Vampire Anon <3 <3

#vampire anon my beloved

[thisisthehardestthing]

wait r u fr? tumblr ate the ask? pls i’m so fuckin mad i literally typed paragraphs about how much i loved it so here we go i’m gonna try to be more coherent this time:

this mafia fic is my favorite haikyuu fic i’ve ever read and one of my fave fics in general. like the amount of hard work and research u put into it is so clear and it shows in the amazing quality of the fic. ur pacing, the flow of ur words, ur characterizations of tanaka and val, the way u pull off that last scene. everything is so well done and all of those things are super hard to pull off on their own so props to u for being able to do all of those. like wow i really am in awe of ur talent and i’m so thankful for ur hard work and the fact that u posted this like u rlly took me thru an emotional ride and gave me such a good piece of writing to enjoy and i love that.

okay so: details. i love the way u include the little things in the fic. stuff like the name of the designers and the names of organizations and stuff in the fic helps me picture the scenes so much and it just really adds to the extravagant feel of the fic.

with symbolism, i could literally write paragraphs about how well u included symbols in this fic. like i deadass gasped when the viper necklace was crushed in the final scene at the end right before tanaka did it. the parallels!!!! god ur so good at writing and obviously ur brain is huge to have thought of that and seamlessly included it into the fic.

okay so idk what the proper term for this is but like, the way that action happens in the fic is so well done and not predictable but still in line with what you’ve revealed to us about the characters. like ofc tanaka would pull the necklace out of his pocket at just that moment as a way to reveal to daichi what he felt. it’s just so perfect and so true to the person he is in the fic. about his characterization, god i love it so much. all of the pain and yearning and sheer want in his person were clearly conveyed thru his perspectives and his actions. like that boy just wants to be loved and that’s why it made such good narrative sense to have daichi ask him who he loves more in the scene right before the ending. like i saw the tag for death and expected a million things but u somehow managed to surprise me and yet still stay true to the world and characters u created and ugh, it’s all so perfect.

speaking of, the pacing of this fic is so good. like u manage to take us thru a whirlwind time period that doesn’t feel fast or drawn out or anything other than perfect. u have such a good awareness of pacing that it makes me so jealous and yet so pleased as a reader. like nothing about their love confessions or trysts felt rushed or forced. it felt so natural and true to the people they were and the world that they live in.

also i said before in the other ask how i love the way u utilize sex scenes in the fic. u sprinkle them in at just the right moment and they manage to be hot but they also reveal so much about the characters involved. like i’m specifically thinking of the scene in tanaka’s home where she asks why he won’t touch her and he says that she didn’t give him permission. like the love and devotion in that way of thinking felt so true and yet in the end he still did it and ugh that breaks my heart in the best way bc i know my pain as a reader is nothing next to his pain as a character. i would actually love to pick ur brain about how u decided on the ending. did it come to u in the moment or did u set out writing the fic knowing it would end up like that? so many questions rlly bc u created a world and a cast of characters that are so interesting like i would literally read books about them. (esp val. i loved how headstrong and proud she was but also how weak and emotional she could be. her ending made me sad but u kno, it made sense) and i’m especially curious to find out how tanaka copes after. like i can’t imagine that daichi would just accept his loyalty again but u do manage to surprise me in the best way so who knows. but i also mourn for him which is a little odd for me bc after finding out that he knew about daichi’s affair i felt betrayed and it hurt for some reason which is so interesting bc i trusted him and felt like i knew him, but u still managed to keep parts of him hidden, which is so cool.

oh and despite the tragic ending, u fed us so good with scenes of the two everywhere. like i love how we got to see tanaka and val in their own homes and at parties and we truly got to see how they act when they’re alone and when they’re comfortable and when they’re playing the part of loyal bodyguard or loyal wife. ugh it’s all so good and tbh i only finished it like maybe half an hour again but i already want to read it again bc it was so fucking good and the way u write emotions like yearning and heartbreak is so good like ugh. everything about the way u wrote this fic was so amazing and fuck tumblr for eating my ask but i hope i at least manage to repeat the majority of what was in the og ask lol.

hello anon <3

It is the weekend so I finally have enough brain power to reply.

I wanted to be selfish and keep this in my inbox forever, because this might be the kindest, most appreciative thing everyone has ever said to me about my writing. Toska is a piece of my heart and my soul in written word, and to have received something like this? It’s... indescribable. You have picked up on so many of the small details, symbols, and more that I littered throughout the fic, and you’ve called out the things that I was excited about people reading and reacting to.

Fic Spoilers below the cut.

everything is so well done and all of those things are super hard to pull off on their own so props to u for being able to do all of those.

Thank you so much. I constantly worried that it was too long, too boring, that there wasn’t enough smut in there to be sexy, or that the plot ultimately didn’t make sense. This means everything to me. Pacing is one of the most important things in a fic to me, because I am the kind of person that easily loses interest when I read. 

details. i love the way u include the little things in the fic.

ahhhhhhhhh!!!! I’m glad this helped you to picture everything! I actually used real life dresses, shoes, locations (google Villa La Vigie, it is STUNNING). I was a fashion student, and I now work in the fashion industry so small details to convery luxury is extremely important to me. I love that it made all the difference to you.

i could literally write paragraphs about how well u included symbols in this fic.

fuck, wow. this. This is what I was truly hoping for. I love figuring out foreshadowing in movies, in books, in tv series. I try to write things that foreshadowing what going to happen in the end throughout of every one of my fics, but this is the first time someone called it out, and I am truly grateful for it. The viper necklace thing is a moment I was very proud of. and when Tanaka tells Val to stop talking about Daichi when they’re alone on the bed together: that’s the first instance where we see his guilt that he knows. Also, when Tanaka says “why dont i finish what I started,” is another thing I linked to the ending.

the way that action happens in the fic is so well done and not predictable but still in line with what you’ve revealed to us about the characters.

kasjsdfhksjdfsd I always thought people could see right through me and how I was going to end it!!!!!!! This means so much thank you! I kept thinking, “fuck people know he’s going to kill her, this is so predictable, all these extra scenes are so boring, is it even worth it?” so AH thank you!

thank you again for the pacing comment <3

i love the way u utilize sex scenes in the fic. u sprinkle them in at just the right moment 

hehehehehehe this makes me very happy. tbh, I wasn’t expecting there to be SO MUCH PLOT when I wrote this fic. I had mapped everything out and planned for it to be about... 5k? words? It ended up being 21k all together lmao. I actually thought there wasn’t enough smuttiness in the entire thing, so thanks for letting me now that it was just the right amount. I was worried because the only time I actually describe them fucking with Tanaka’s dick inside her, is that measley one paragraph at the Monte Carlo Casino. When I realised that, I was in utter shock. I was texting @mindninjax in the discord server like “FUCK. I can’t believe I haven’t actually written sex sex.” Then I went into thinking how disappointed people were going to be and phew, it was a whirlwind of a night.

i would actually love to pick ur brain about how u decided on the ending. did it come to u in the moment or did u set out writing the fic knowing it would end up like that? so many questions rlly

ask away, send in questions. I built this world beyond what I’ve written. I have character layouts and plans for every person I introduced, and have ideas for fics on all of them.

To answer your question, I knew exactly how I wanted it to end before I began writing. That end scene is what I thought of first. Exactly like that, with it being cut off mid-sentence to represent her being shot. That sort of “boom” or feeling of shock where you just stare at the screen is the exact reaction I wanted to get when I finished writing, so I hope that is what happened.

So just, thank you so much anon. For everything, for taking the time to write out this ask a second time after Tumblr ate the first one. It has kept me going since the day you sent it. I really appreciate you, and please, chat to me anytime x

Thank you.

Spasiba x

#spasiba #claudia rambles #toska asks #fic spoilers #spoiler #i love you so much #thank you

[b99fandomevents]

Thank you to everyone who joined our Fall 2019 Fic Exchange!!! 🍁🍂

At this point in time, all fics have been submitted and are beautifully compiled under the cut by the amazing @amez-santiago. ♡ (If you don’t see your fic here or notice any errors, please let us know!) 

Against The Cold | AO3

↝ by @thirteenbythirteen for @mashikkara

Five times Jake keeps Amy warm, and one time she returns the favor. 

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place | AO3

↝ by @storyinmyeyes for @amysantiagoisfone

Jake comes over to check on a "sick" Amy and they end up snuggling together on the couch during the first storm of Autumn.

call my bluff, call you ‘babe’ | AO3

↝ by @space-nougat for @b99peraltiago

"Look, Jake, I know I'm asking too much of you, but I'm desperate now and you're the only one left." "I'm desperate now and you're the only one left-title of your sex tape," he exclaimed quickly, then added, "But seriously though, what are you talking about?" "I need you to be my fake boyfriend for Thanksgiving." Or, Amy needs someone to pretend to be her boyfriend for a day. Jake is available.

Carnival: Trial by Fire | AO3

↝ by @vernonfielding for @vic-kovac

Amy takes Jake to the Santiago family's annual carnival -- and introduces her to every one of her seven brothers. Will their relationship survive??? (Yes. There is seriously no angst in here.)

Every day is magical when I'm with you | AO3

↝ by @sandylovesfandoms for @amazingsantiago

Jake and Amy go Halloween costume shopping with baby (in honour of peraltiago baby 2020)

falling in love with you again and again

↝ by @yaboring-yabasic for @stolethekey

corn maze/harvest festival and hot chocolate/amy being cold

Giving Thanks | AO3

↝ by @impossiblyizzy for @lesbianperaltas

Amy is worried about hosting Thanksgiving dinner for the squad, but Jake is there to help.

“I Figured You’d Need This” 

↝ by @winnietherpooh for @viktorkrumn

Jake getting Amy hot beverages because she gets cold.

I call it magic when I'm with you | AO3

↝ by @letsperaltiago for @amyscascadingtabs

1. Halloween costume parties 2. Baking together (could be something Halloween-related or general fall coziness) 3. Peraltiago kids celebrating Halloween

i close my eyes, let it surround me | AO3

↝ by @stolethekey for @397bartonstreet

The flu is definitely messing with his brain, but a part of him never wants to be sick without her again. Maybe she could take care of him every time he’s sick or hurt or sad. Maybe he could take care of her, too. Maybe he wants the comfort she brings when she’s here. Maybe her coat could find a permanent place draped over his armchair. Maybe it could stay – and maybe she could stay – - jake gets sick. amy knits him a scarf.

i used to live alone before i knew you. | AO3

↝ by  @lesbianperaltas for @winnietherpooh

They sit back on their couch, Amy getting comfortable, placing her feet in Jake’s lap and he just looks at her—she’s not looking at him—and he thinks of how he’s never really had a person before her. He had always used to come home from a long case with a pack of beer and he’d watch Die Hard alone. It never used to be a problem until everyone slowly started to couple off in his friend group, and even then it never really got to him until he got a glimpse of what it feels like to have someone to hang out with and actually like to be around with. It was like slowly over time his partnership with Amy had started to become something more. They were friends then—friends that hung out sometimes after work, and somewhere Jake wanted more than just being friends. He wanted everything that Amy could give him. (or, Jake and Amy, some polish food and hot cider.)

i'm cold as the wind blows (so hold me in your arms) | AO3

↝ by @fezzle for @chipmunksallshipklefan

There’s something about how defeated he looks that’s troubling her. His eyes keep shifting to the floor, and there’s a forlorn quality in his voice that makes her think there’s something deeper afflicting him. or Jake comes back from undercover. Only he's not the same.

i’m gomez you’re morticia i feel so happy when i’m witcha | AO3

↝ by @amazingsantiago for @outofinspo

the addams family wedding rap origin story.

in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee (how about love?) | AO3

↝ by @exploding-snapple for @thirteenbythirteen

Rosa rolls her eyes. “Besides, I never drink coffee.” Gina lowers her phone and leans forward; her Twitter updates can wait. “Rosa Diaz, are you telling me that you’ve never had a Pumpkin Spice Latte?” (An AU where Rosa’s a Target Sales Associate and Gina’s a barista for the Starbucks inside.)

In which Amy and Rosa go on a road trip and eat pie, but Rosa doesn't know the whole truth | AO3

↝ by @viktorkrumn for @impossiblyizzy

Amy and Rosa go on a short trip upstate for one of Amy's cases. It's Thanksgiving weekend and it sounds like they're about to have a lot of fun, but Rosa gets the feeling that Amy's hiding something...

it’s you and me, there’s nothing like this | AO3

↝ by @amyscascadingtabs for @cheddar-the-dog

“I still don’t get the point of why you would pay someone to scare you,” Amy mutters, rubbing her arms and jumping up and down on the place to keep herself warm. “The real-life world is plenty terrifying. Climate change. Racism. US Politics. I could go on and on.” “Because it’s fun, and while the things you mentioned are hella scary, they make for awful costumes,” Jake pointed out, already shrugging off his leather jacket to drape it across her shoulders. “I mean, how would you even dress up as climate change?” (Jake and Amy, and a yearly Halloween tradition.)

keep you warm (wanna keep you all) | AO3

↝ by @johnny-and-dora for @sandylovesfandoms

(“Thermodynamic equilibrium.” She’d grinned as he’d offered to warm up her hands on a coffee date a million years ago. He’d never found a use for his hidden talent as a walking space heater before they started dating. Now, here, everything’s always too warm and completely off balance.) or, florida man really misses his girlfriend.

Lie With Me (And Forget the World) | AO3

↝ by @mashikkara for @ofbuttsandbombs

The morning after Haloveen.

Never tell me the odds | AO3

↝ by @kamekamelea for @fezzle

Amy and Jake's meet-cute at a Halloween party. Oh, and Amy is a Wookie.

Of Ghosts and Pumpkins | AO3

↝ by @jake-and-ames for @vernonfielding

“I’m Jake.” He has barely uttered the words when something brushes his arm and out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a shadow glide out of the room. Jake can’t help it; he lets out another high-pitched scream. Amy stifles a laugh beside him. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.” Or Jake vs. some ghosts and a children’s safety knife.

one love, one house (no shirt, no blouse) | AO3 [E]

↝ by @amydancepants-peralta for @kamekamelea

His lips travel up her torso, ever so gentle over the subtle bump, and when he reaches the peak he pauses, looking up at Amy with an indescribable look in his eyes. The hand in his hair stops, holding still within the coils as she looks back at him, holding his gaze before breaking the silence. “Babe?” He smiles, a sign of reassurance she holds more valuable than most peoples words, and shakes his head slightly. “Nothing. Just ...” he drops another kiss to her belly. “Wow.”

put your head on my shoulder (you and I will fall in love) | AO3 

↝ by @vic-kovac for @letsperaltiago

(‘Aaaaaaaaaamy. Amy Santiago. Amy!’ She’s never, ever, been happier to hear Jake Peralta’s voice.) The squad visits the local fall festival; Jake and Amy encounter an endless corn maze, too much apple cider, and overdue confessions.

Safe as (Haunted) Houses | AO3

↝ by @vernonfielding for @vic-kovac

Amy and Jake chase a teenage car thief into a haunted house. And things get weird. 

Scarlet Season | AO3

↝ by @ofbuttsandbombs for @meepmorpperaltiago

It's autumn and school has just begun, the weather is cooler, summer is long gone, Amy's always cold again, Jake is singing Sweater Weather, the kids just want to jump in puddles and leaves and generally make messes, and Karen and Roger decide to renew their vows.

sweater weather | AO3

↝ by @amydancepants-peralta for @kamekamelea

Her face burrows into the fabric of his sweater, chest expanding as she breathes him in, and Jake’s smile grows bigger at the sight. He can still remember their first night together, how amazing she looked with her head against his pillow, the tiniest of smiles on her face as she mumbled that it smelled of him. He knew he was a goner then, and he still is now.

tell me again (about how it hurts) | AO3

↝ by @cheddar-the-dog by @exploding-snapple

it’s Rosa’s first thanksgiving after coming out to her parents - it’s very angst loaded and centers mostly on Rosa’s journey of it all

The Adventures of the Santiago-Peralta family | AO3

↝ by @meepmorpperaltiago for @jake-and-ames

peraltiago baby finding a hedgehog and the squad pumpkin carving together

The Blanket | AO3

↝ by @amysantiagoisfone for @amydancepants-peralta

As Jake and Amy's relationship becomes more stable, they start to learn each other's annoying quirks and wonderful traits- which is just what Jake wanted to do this weekend.

The winner takes it all | AO3

↝ by @chipmunksallshipklefan for @yaboring-yabasic

“Heist! Heist! Heist!” she continues to chant as they wander around the neighbourhood, candy bags held tight as they adhere to Amy’s pre-made chart of whose doors they’re allowed to knock on. And Amy’s already worrying about the impending tantrum when Jake whispers, “We should put a little fake heist on for her.” And so they end up in the living room, Jake and Amy grinning widely at Mia, as Jake holds Mr Zebra up high and Amy declares, “The winner needs to find and hold onto Mr Zebra until the clock says three, do you remember what the number three looks like Mia?”

Untitled 

↝ by @397bartonstreet for @johnny-and-dora

autumnal walk in the park

We Belong Together | AO3

↝ by @b99peraltiago for @storyinmyeyes

“In their two years and a half of relationship, it’s obviously not the first time they find themselves in such a situation – one of them making breakfast while the other joins them after waking up alone in bed –, but there’s something different about this particular morning. There’s a ring on Amy’s finger now, the promise of many similar mornings happening in their shared future shining bright against her skin.” (Post-5x04, the morning after The Proposal.)

Welcome to the party, pal! | AO3 [M]

↝ by @kamekamelea for @fezzle

Amy loses a bet to Gina and has to wear a Halloween costume of her choice. The night takes a surprising turn when Jake sees Amy all dressed up and can barely hold himself together.

when autumn leaves start to fall | AO3 

↝ by @outofinspo for @space-nougat 

Jake and Amy decide to go out on a cold Fall day to play with the fallen leaves 

#b99 fic #b99fandomevents #fall 2019 fics #b99 fall 2019 fic exchange #shout out to sara for her awesome gif skills

[radioromantic-moved]

what does love feel like?

guess what…the fic is here…welcome to feelings hour with liz and kid

legit i sat down, started typing this out, and didn’t stop 4 like 2 hours BUT ANYWAY here

--

kid and liz have a talk about love. (kid’s demiromantic. liz and tsubaki are girlfriends.)

Liz flops back on the black couch and breathes out softly, running a hand through her hair. It’s quiet in Gallows Manor, for once. Patty’s taking a nap, and Kid sits beside her on the couch, opening and closing his hands into fists in rhythm. Liz shoots him a glance out of the corner of her eye. He’s got that look on his face, the “there-is-an-urgent-problem” look that’s so uniquely Kid, and she’s about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks up. 

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“What does love feel like? Y-you know, the romantic kind.”

Liz makes a noise that’s some sort of blend between a squeak, a snort and a laugh. “That’s a--a hell of a question, Kid. Jeez.”

“Oh. Sorry. Never mind. I just thought--”

“No, talk.” Liz sits up now, facing her meister, who’s still staring down at his hands. “What brought this up?”

“It’s...it’s nothing, really. I mean--”

He struggles with words for a little while longer. He slides a ring up and down one hand, and then the other. Liz notices his face turning pink.

“Oh.” She grins. “You like someone. Like, a lot.”

He buries his head in his hands, messing up his hair a bit. He doesn’t even notice. Man, this is a big deal. “Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this before about someone, Liz. And you...know about these sorts of things, and I thought you could. You know. Help me out here.”

Liz thinks. She’s never been quiet about liking people, even before Tsubaki. Guys, girls, everyone-her heart used to go from person to person, as if trying to make up for lost time with only one person to feel things about. But she gets the feeling that it’s different for Kid. This is new territory for him, so she’s gonna try to be gentle. 

When she speaks, it’s softer. “Okay. Uh. So... I don’t know, there’s not really one way to love someone, even just romantically. I mean…”

She grasps for words a little more. GAH, she is so not good with this wordy elaborate crap. With Tsubaki, it’s just...easy. She doesn’t need to talk if she doesn’t have to. She knows if she does, though, that Tsu’s gonna listen, and that’s the important part. Or they can just sit there and make out for like a few hours. She gets the idea that that’s not really Kid’s thing, though.

“Well,” she says carefully. “How do you feel about them? You know, when you see them. Or think about them. What do they mean to you?”

Kid looks up and starts staring off into space. He stares for such a long time that Liz thinks about waving a hand in front of his face. When he speaks, it’s slowly, softly, almost reverent. “They’re...almost indescribable.” And if Liz wasn’t so dedicated to being a good friend and listener, she’d laugh out loud at the goofy smile that crosses the face of the unflappable junior reaper. “They’ve been through so much in such a short time, and it makes me feel like, if they can be strong in the face of everything, I can too. They’re so smart, and the way they talk about things that they’re passionate about...they talk with their hands and their voice pitches up and it’s like somebody’s put all of the stars in their eyes. When you’re talking and they look at you, they can tell they’re really listening to you. I feel like I could move the sun for them if it would make them smile. They’re...wonderful.”

Liz just stares and blinks for what felt like a solid minute before running her mouth. “Oh. Wow. Can I steal some of that to say to Tsubaki?”

A smile flits across Kid’s face for a few seconds. “Not a chance.” Then he grows serious again, staring at his hands. “So. Am I, do you think..?”

“Oh. Dude, you’re gone. If you meant even half of that little monologue, you’re irreversibly head over heels.”

“I meant all of it,” Kid says softly. “Every word.”

Then he buries his face in his hands again and makes a horrible noise that is so remarkably unKidlike that Liz does a double take: some sort of barking, snorting, gleeful laughter that borders on maniacal. “Oh, dear. What do I do now?”

“Beats me! I didn’t even help with the first part! You were the one who spilled your guts to me in the end.”

“Oh. Right. I did, didn’t I?”

Liz sighs. “But look. If you really want my advice, just go for it. I mean, that’s what I did, and look at me now; I’ve got an awesome girlfriend.”

Kid looks uncertain. “But...you’re you. You don’t care what anyone thinks about you.”

Liz laughs in surprise, so loudly that Kid jumps. “Come on! You know me better than that. I’m terrified of what people think about me, all the time! I just...you know, I figure that the people who already like me are the most important ones anyway.” She glances away for a second, then continues. “Look, Kid, you’re the freakin’ GRIM REAPER. You’ve done way scarier things than tell Nova she’s cute, and you’re gonna do scarier stuff in the future, too. So, come on, how bad can it really be?”

He finally smiles--a real one, this time. “Thank you, Liz.” Then he stops short and stares at her. “Wait. How did you--”

The expression on Liz’s face can be best described as a shit-eating grin. “Aw, please. Give me a little credit, why don’t you? You give her the gooiest puppy eyes every time you’re within fifteen feet of her. Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t noticed yet--I’m kinda surprised everyone hasn’t noticed yet.”

Kid’s face goes redder than Liz knew it was capable of, and he shoots her a vicious glare. “I’m disowning you as my weapon partner,” he growls.

Liz laughs until she can’t breathe.

#Fun Fact: i made a separate gmail for this bc i am that fucking extra #i feel. NO regret. #gonna tag this w a lot of things bc i'm proud of it actually #ship: the dragon and the reaper #tag: resonance gang #self ship #self shipping #nyx writes #self ship community #self ship fic #selfship #selfshipping

[iridescentanachronism]

when one night only turns into two

hello folks, i have never written fanfiction and never used this blog! i guess i’m diving in headfirst LMAO!!! 

this is a lil blurb i thought of when y/n is a singer (not super big but for sure up and coming) and she covers kiwi at one of her shows and it goes viral and harry notices and decides to just SHOW UP at her show the balls on this guy!! anyways this is my first fic so please be kind! constructive criticism is always welcome 

“thank you for coming out tonight! your presence gives me the ability to do my job- i will always be grateful for each and every single one of you. drive safely and love one another, los angeles. thanks again for having me, you have been wonderful.” 

as you walked off the small stage at the house of blues your heart swelled with pride. this was your first show out of state, and from what the audience sounded like, you had crushed it. performing in LA had always been a dream of yours, but a daunting one, considering that their crowds were used to big names and powerful stage presences. you were intimidated by the city- yet you walked off their stage with an indescribable feeling of pride, adrenaline, and confidence. this was the start of something new and you could feel it.  

feeling someone’s eyes on you, you made a sharp turn and ran into your tour manager, rosco. “hello! hey, hey, hey, that was amazing wasn’t it? the energy felt absolutely maddening! god, i could do that everyday for the rest of my life. what do you think? was it too much, did we do too many covers?” the words seemed to flow right out of you, even though you gave LA your all, it was still LA, and rosco had always been your best critic. he quickly responded to let you know it was as amazing as you’d originally thought, and that if this show was any indication, you would have plenty more shows in LA. 

what you didn’t expect, however, was the ruckus that one of the aforementioned covers would cause on twitter. you had always loved harry styles, and after taking quite some time to look into the legalities on the matter, decided to cover kiwi for the first time last night. logging into your account, you noticed the song title trending- and after clicking on it you were led to a video of your show, hair being shaken around you, throwing yourself around the stage with the heavy music, and the scene was completed with a boisterous crowd jumping around and singing every word along with you. a smile covered your face- this is your favorite part of performing, losing yourself entirely in the stage, and in this video you were doing just that. however excited you had become at the potential this showed for your career, you immediately had so many questions. why had this blown up so much? you covered four songs last night, why is this one such a big deal? after looking through the tag, chuckling at some memes, and being freaked out by some responses, you had found the tweet that made you lose your shit. the tweet itself wasn’t even the raunchiest you had found this morning, it simply stated: “@y/t/n: fuck my shit up, babe. literally, whatever you want to do to me, do it” with the linked video of you singing kiwi. however, one thing in particular stood out to you. the part that said “liked by harry styles”. 

you immediately dialed rosco, not only is he your tour manager, but basically your entire support system. a musicians life gets lonely, and he is the only one who has stuck by you throughout the entire tumultuous journey. 

“sweetheart! perfect timing, i actually was just about to call-”

“harrystylessawthekiwivideoandlikedatweetaboutitholyfuckingshit-” you started to ramble, your most prominent nervous trait, in the highest pitch rosco thought he had ever heard from you. 

“sweets, first of all, where was that pitch when we recorded the album? second, take a breath and tell me again, i can’t understand a damn thing you said”

you took a deep breath and told him of the tweets you saw, and when you told him about harry’s interaction he simply told you to chill out. he had favorited a tweet, and he may not have even been the one to do it. with an odd sting you realized he was correct, while it was exciting to have your idol recognize you, you could not overthink it: it was simply recognition for a job well done. 

“it seems as though the people you needed to impress are just as proud of you as i am, lovey, your ‘one night only’ in los angeles has been extended to two, you interested in doing it all over again tomorrow night?”

you must have looked like a goldfish in your kitchen, jaw slack and eyes wide open, you struggled to come to your senses. you had asked for the chance to prove yourself in a city known for music, and good music at that, and were apparently being gifted with a second chance. 

“oh! um, yes, of course, why wouldn’t i? holy shit, this is amazing, holy shit!” you began to squeal and run in circles around your house. whilst giggling with elation, the seriousness of this event hit you: two nights of rocking out with the liveliest crowd you have ever played for, in the city you’ve dreamt of doing this in for years. drops began to form in your eyes as you managed to spit out a quick thank you to rosco, who knew you would cry. he, quite frankly, did not want to hear your tears, so he hung up after telling you what to tweet. 

after logging on you realized you had gone from a respectable 10k followers to an overwhelming 30k, you almost squealed again, composing yourself enough to type, you wrote: 

@y/t/n: wow. in absolute awe of you la. thank you for supporting me, and thank you for letting me do what i do. and thanks to you all, i have been gifted another night here (-: night two at the hob! tickets on sale at 6pm california time, come see me tomorrow night, peeps! i’ll be sure to make it worth your while <3 

with the click of your fingers and the ping of your phone, the announcement had been sent, and the stage had been sent. the pressure was on, and you had never felt more in your element. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

everything that could have gone wrong on the morning of your fateful second show, had. you had woken up late (something minor, but was an omen for your bad day), gotten a flat tire, been hit on by the man sent to fix said flat tire, and had been late to soundcheck. after arriving at soundcheck you had found that everything was wrong, the stage wasn’t set up correctly, the duct-taped x’s from the previous show had been removed, and you had to all but start from the beginning. 

you had planned to change things up from your previous gig, but had no time to practice the changes. you spoke to your band and hoped that was enough, you drank some coffee, did some jumping jacks, warmed up your vocals, and put on your game face. this is your second show in LA, and you weren’t going to let anything ruin it; hearing the sounds of a sold out bar in front of you, feeling your heart began to flutter in your chest, and knowing that in a few minutes you would be putting on the best show of your goddamn life had set you up well. you were ready. with your shoulders back and head up high, you walked onto stage and, unknowingly, commanded the attention of the room. 

about twenty minutes into your set you decided to take a quick breather. taking a long sip of water and leaning into the microphone, you decided to do a quick little check in, “hey folks, hows everyone doing out there?” your southern drawl had just slipped in towards the end, and you felt so at ease on stage that you hadn’t even noticed. someone else did notice. 

harry styles had decided to surprise you at your show, he had favorited that tweet because he agreed- you could do whatever you wanted to him, but he would rather do whatever you wanted to you. he had his signature smirk on as he stood backstage, listening to rosco ramble about how surprized you would be when you realized he had come, and how much you adored his album. as you continued to banter back in forth with the sold out bar, harry had taken note of how peaceful you looked. you stood proudly on stage, with messy hair, and a sick body you looked comfortable; the stage had seemed like your home. 

luckily, you hadn’t noticed harry the entire show, hadn’t even noticed how his eyes hadn’t left your body while you passionately belted out every word to his song, completely losing yourself in the melody, and delivering another breathtaking performance. he watched you take your final bow, and heard your last expression of gratitude, before watching you run off stage and into the arms of your tour manager. harry quickly noticed the tears in your eyes and the smile so large that it looked painful, he heard your rambling and the joy in your voice, it had reminded him of when this was all new, when nothing was guaranteed, and the only thing keeping him in this trying industry was the feeling you were experiencing right now. 

his moment of nostalgia passed as you had unraveled yourself from rosco’s arms and did a double take. harry styles was standing in front of you. you heard a deep chuckle coming from him, likely due to your wide eyes and gaping mouth, he heard a quiet “no fucking way” come from you, and decided he had waited long enough. as cocky as usual, he rasped out, “hello love, your show was amazing. it’s a pleasure to meet you, i’m harry, as i think you may know” he didn’t bother waiting for a response from the gobsmacked young woman before continuing, “y’know, i’ve seen plenty of covers of kiwi, but none have been as genuine as yours. you captured the song for what it is, you blew it away, blew me away in fact, so i knew i had to come out and see ya tonight.” his accent grew thicker as he became more bemused with your state of shock.

your breath eventually caught up to you as you nervously chuckled, “holy shit, thank you so much. you have no idea how much that means coming from you. thank you for coming out, oh my god, i have so much to say to you but nothing is coming to mind other than thank you, so thank you, again” 

“of course, darling, i loved it. i’ll be sure to pass along my number so whatever comes to mind can be said. unfortunately, i have to run, but i’ll be seeing you around kiddo, keep up the good work” harry said with a sly wink, leaving you flushed at the pet name, and yearning for more time with him. while you let out a soft thank you and goodnight, you began to think of what the future held for you. praise from harry styles was not to be taken lightly, and his impromptu visit had only fanned the flame in your soul, his visit meant you were doing something right, and this had been the fuel you needed to continue putting in long hours at the studio, and spending evenings alone, writing in your shitty and overpriced apartment.  

while you had been thinking of what this visit meant for your career. harry had thoughts of you headlining arenas swimming around in his head. as he walked away he thought of you; thought of how immensely talented you were, how charismatic you were, and how far you had to go. he also thought of your grace, the presence you carried as you pranced around on stage, and the charming beauty that you seemed unaware of. harry styles knew you were talented, but he also knew you were breathtaking, and he could see absolutely nothing stopping you. 

as he walked away and you listened to rosco’s compliments, you allowed your own mind to wander. maybe, just maybe, things were going to look up for you. and you couldn’t help but sigh happily at the thought. 

A/N: hello peeps! sorry this was super long hmm i’m torn between cutting it or not, because not much harry but also the buildup is important to me, please let me know what you prefer! constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcome and apprecited! thanks for reading this far if you did, you mean the world to me! let me know if y’all would want a part two (-:

#this lowkey long but like cute as shit imo #harry styles fanfic #hs blurb #blurb #hs #harry #concert #harrystyles #fanfic #harryblurb #hs fanfic #hs imagine #y/n #5sos fanfic #touringblurb #supporter!harry #fan!harry #harry fic #harry styles blurb #tea #new writer #criticism #hs2

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @arrowsandwhiskeykisses!

One of the prompts for the fic was 'Angst angst angst and then fluff,' so I hope this is good enough. Thank you!

Read on AO3

*****

Magnus has spent a large portion of his life feeling tired. His exhaustion has spread out over the years, interspersed with months of cheer and happiness, periods of his life where he falls in love and feels lighter than ever, feels like he’s walking on air, feels that swell of admiration in his chest and that burst of adoration in his stomach. But he always drifts back to feeling tired. Living this long takes its toll, because even if his body doesn’t age the way it should, the rest of him does. His mind doesn’t atrophy, but his spirit seems to grow weaker. His defences crack and his heart turns to stone. It feels like he has less left to give, because the bits of him that are left are all used up, dry and cracked and crumpled.

And yet he keeps finding parts of himself, dusting them off and handing them out for free. He shaves off pieces to give to Raphael, to Catarina, to Maia and Ragnor. He gives pieces of himself to Simon and Clary and Jace and Isabelle, to Shadowhunters, to Alec.

Magnus always thought if he were going to be caught dead with a Shadowhunter, with the people who have despised him for centuries, used him and thrown him away time and time again, then that Shadowhunter would have to be the most perfect person on the planet.

Alexander isn’t perfect. He is a basket of contradictions. He has an iron-clad control over himself and his body, but he is impulsive when it comes to what he wants, when he decides to let himself have it. He is neat and tidy, almost to a military degree, but he leaves his socks all over Magnus’s apartment, forgets to wipe the toothpaste stains out of the sink. He makes a lot of mistakes, and he is simply too much sometimes, too brash, too cautious, too determined, too withdrawn, too naive, too brave. He is a lot of things, and not all of those things are good, but they make up the man that Magnus loves, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Which is what makes this moment, right here, one of the most tiring moments of Magnus’s life.

Alec blinks at him unsteadily. There’s a slightly dazed look to his eyes, and a cut on his head that Magnus wants to heal. He’s not sure magic would be welcome at the moment. He’s not sure that he’s welcome at the moment.

“What exactly do you remember?” Magnus asks. He keeps his voice calm, doesn’t let the tremor shaking its way through his veins alter his tone. There is a grace to this moment, a finesse, and he has to get it right if he wants to get Alec to trust him. He’s already glancing around the kitchen, either looking for a weapon, an escape route, or something he recognises.

“Everything’s a little hazy,” Alec admits. “I remember hunting…”

He cuts himself off quickly, eyes widening suddenly as the haze of confusion fades, and Magnus is quick to reassure him.

“Hunting demons, I imagine. I know you’re a Shadowhunter,” he soothes. “I’m a Warlock.”

Alec draws back instantly, one hand raising to graze along his temple, where the blood is starting to congeal, grow tacky.

“What did you do to me?” Alec demands lowly. “Is this some kind of spell? How did I get here?”

“It’s not what you think,” Magnus says, his heart giving a painful squeeze. “A spell of mine went a little haywire, and it hit you. You’ve – you’ve forgotten me. I promise, Alexander, you do know me.”

Alec simply stares at him suspiciously. He lowers his hand and his gaze darts around the loft, fixing on little things, like the potted plant on the windowsill, or the coffee machine still gurgling away. It’s still early morning, the first rays of sunlight stirring the clouds into soft peaks, visible through the open window. Alec is bathed in a white glow, and even sleepy-eyed and bleeding, he looks beautiful. Magnus feels the same indescribable ache he’s always felt whenever he looks at Alec, but this time it hurts a little more, because when Alec looks at him, he doesn’t feel the same way.

“Let me call your sister,” Magnus says gently. “I imagine Jace already felt something through your bond. If I’m right, he should be here soon.”

Alec nods sharply, still on guard, and Magnus closes his expression down so that Alec won’t see the desperation in his gaze, before he goes to find the phone.

*

The door clicks shut behind the Lightwood’s with a resolute snap. The loft seems still, empty. Magnus is alone again, for the first time in a while, and he can feel it all around him, the soupy silence and treacle-thick tension. He very gently presses his forehead against the door, feeling the smooth grain of wood under his skin. His eyes slip closed, and a dry sob works its way up his throat before he can push it down. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, opens his eyes, and steps away.

He’s never felt more tired.

Alec had glanced at him, just once, before leaving. The suspicion had disappeared, replaced by curiosity, soothed away by Izzy’s warm words and Jace’s steady presence. He had been hoping that Alec would suddenly snap out of it, that the spell would wear off and recognition would fill Alec’s eyes, that he’d come storming over and grab Magnus, kiss him like he had at the wedding, at the end of the aisle. Magnus dreams of that kiss, sometimes.

He has a feeling his dreams are going to be a lot less pleasant from now on.

He lets himself have another few moments, and then he makes his way over to the desk in his room. The facts, when laid out on a piece of paper, are simple. A spell Magnus was working on for a client went wrong, and hit Alec in the head. Alec was staring right at him when it happened. As a result, Alec no longer remembers Magnus, or their time together. He no longer remembers that they love each other. For Alec, there’s nothing between them but a cut temple and a moment of suspicion.

Magnus sits down heavily in the hard-backed chair and grips his knees. He has to fix this. Alec had said, before, in a neon-lit alley, that he didn’t think he could live without Magnus. Magnus has never thought to tell him that it’s mutual, that the idea of living in a world where Alec doesn’t remember him, doesn’t know him, makes something crack inside him. He thought Alec knew, that he would always know.

He has to fix this.

*

The bed feels empty, so Magnus doesn’t sleep in it. The sheets are cold and the space that Alec used to fill feels vast and wide, like a chasm. He’s grown used to his presence in the loft, to the warmth of another person in his bed. He grabs fistfuls of sleep on the couch, instead, curled up on the cushion that Alec used to favour. He’s moping, certainly, but he thinks it’s understandable. He draws the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over him. His eyes itch and he’s restless, but he’s been alive long enough to know that lack of sleep is not a good thing. It won’t help him solve this.

He’s finally drifting off when someone knocks on his door, and an undignified groan passes his lips before he can stop it. He climbs to his feet and takes a deep breath. It takes a little more effort than it should to get his magic to work, to paint on a perfect face, to rearrange his hair and conceal the dark circles beneath his eyes.

He opens the door and deflates a little. Disappointment wells within him, and he realises he was expecting, hoping to see Alec on the other side, memory restored, searching for him, coming home. Instead, he gets Simon.

“Wow,” Simon says, hefting his bag a little higher over his shoulder. “That level of disappointment is great for my self-esteem, just so you know.”

Magnus levels a tired look at him, and then steps back, waving a hand for him to enter. He’s long since learned that Shadowhunters and Mundanes and Vampires don’t actually know how to leave him be when he wants to be left alone.

“You look awful.”

Magnus quirks an eyebrow. “I look fantastic, actually.”

Simon grimaces. “Well, yeah. You’ve done that magic thing. But you still look awful. On the inside.”

“I had no idea that being a vampire came with X-Ray vision,” Magnus says, closing the door and relocating to the couch. He’s fond of Simon, even if he does purposely tease him by forgetting his name all the time. He’s fond of all his Downworlders.

“It’s a skill I was born with,” Simon says, cheerfully enough. He drops a bag by the door and then throws himself onto the chaise lounge, wincing as the hard back digs into his spine. He wriggles around uncomfortably, and Magnus watches him with tired amusement.

“Why do you have this?” Simon complains.

“For aesthetic purposes,” Magnus says simply. “It’s not supposed to be comfortable, it’s supposed to look good in my loft. You’re going to put a dent in it with all that writhing around.”

“Oh, the horror,” Simon says, wriggling with purpose now.

Magnus sighs, exasperated. “Simon, what are you doing here? I know it’s not simply to destroy my furniture.”

Simon straightens up suddenly, a serious look falling over his face. “I came to see how you were doing. Clary told me what happened.”

Magnus stays silent, focusing intently on a chip in his nail polish.

“I went to see Alec,” Simon says hesitantly. Magnus can’t help the way he stiffens, the way his gaze flickers towards Simon. Simon stares back, watching him carefully.

Magnus clears his throat. “How is he?”

“He seems fine,” Simon says. “A little confused, but mostly his same old self. They’re trying to find a way to fix his memory, but he doesn’t understand why they’re so insistent on it, since he doesn’t know what he’s forgotten.”

Magnus lets out a slow, measured breath. It hurts, to know that Alec could simply go on with his life, that he could carry on without this affecting him in the slightest.

“So, he’s fine, then. That’s good. I was afraid there might be some side-effects.”

“Side-effects,” Simon repeats incredulously. “Magnus, I think there was a pretty big side-effect to that spell hitting him, don’t you?”

“There may not be a way to fix that one,” Magnus points out, although he doesn’t want to think about it. “I was referring to smaller, mendable side-effects.”

Simon chews on his lip for a moment, thinking hard. Then he claps his hands together and gets to his feet.

“Well, you’re not going to find an answer like this. Come on, I’ll go and buy you some coffee while you grab some sleep. Clary and I will help you with whatever you need. There must be books we can look at, research we can do. We can help you with this, Magnus.”

Magnus lets his gaze drift from Simon’s eager expression. There are a pair of shoes – not his – hidden under one of the side-tables, laces splayed haphazardly all over the place. A book sits on the coffee table, a blue bookmark poking out of the thin pages, because Alec always insists that it’s a travesty to damage a book in any way. Flowers fill the vase on the windowsill, a remnant of a spontaneous impulse buy whilst walking back from one of their dates.

There are little pieces of Alec littered all around the apartment, and Magnus abruptly realises that he doesn’t want to lose this. A part of him has been insisting that maybe this was for the best, that maybe things happened for a reason.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Simon says earnestly.

Magnus tips his head back against the back of the couch. There are a million things running through his mind, but despite everything, he knows he can’t afford to give up. He doesn’t want to lose Alec.

He discards the blanket, ignoring Simon’s little moue of protest. “You go and get coffee, I’ll find the information we need.”

“I’ll fetch Clary too,” Simon says, practically beaming as he crosses to the door. “She’ll want to help.”

Magnus smiles at him fondly, watching him go. Then he summons everything he needs from his study, spreads it all out over the table, and gets to work.

*

Magnus isn’t feeling quite so fond a half hour later, when Simon returns.

“I thought you said you were fetching Clary and coffee,” Magnus says, out of the corner of his mouth. “Nowhere in that statement did you mention you would be bringing the root of the problem to my loft.”

Simon stares at him, wide-eyed. Clary takes a sip of coffee and studiously avoids his gaze.

Alexander lifts a page in a book, brow furrowed. He’s hunched over the table, one hand planted firmly next to a packet of dried herbs, his hair falling over his eyes. The cut on his temple is gone, replaced with smooth, clear skin. There’s no smile on his face when he glances up at Magnus, only intense curiosity.

“I panicked, when he asked where we were going,” Simon says, clearly still panicking. “I told him we were going to help you with something, and he offered to come with us. He seemed pretty keen to meet you again. I think he’s curious.”

“Yes, well, curiosity is not quite the emotion I was hoping for, the next time I had to see him again,” Magnus says.

Simon grimaces, offering him a sheepish shrug. Magnus sighs, pasting on a pleasant smile, and moves around the table to pick up a book of his own. Alec looks up as he draws near, letting the page slip through his fingers.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Alec says, holding out a hand. Magnus feels his heart falter. He can sense Clary and Simon watching him, even as they talk quietly amongst themselves. When Alec’s hand dips slightly, Magnus shakes himself and reaches up to grasp it. He keeps his touch light and clinical, because any more than that and he may break, but Alec surprises him by letting the touch linger.

“Magnus Bane,” he offers, when Alec does let go.

Alec cringes back as soon as the last syllable leaves his lips, and Magnus stares in surprise and concern as he grips his head with both hands.

“Sorry,” Alec grits out. “My head starting hurting.”

Magnus wants to reach out. His hands are halfway there, poised in mid-air to hold him, envelope him, soothe away his problems, when Clary clears her throat from the corner. Magnus freezes, and then lets his hands drop, dusting off his clothes. He let himself forget, for a moment.

Alec straightens up after half a minute, and he fixes Magnus with a wary look. Magnus makes sure his hands are in Alec’s line of sight.

“I always seem to be in pain around you,” Alec jokes, and Magnus flinches imperceptibly. He tries not to delve a little deeper into those words than called for.

Simon makes a strangled noise, and claps his hands together loudly. “So. The pain thing, has that been happening often?”

Alec frowns slightly. “A bit, yeah. Every time I start to think too hard about what I’m forgetting. It’s like there’s this blank space where something should be, but I can’t think what it is, and when I spend too long thinking about it, I get this sharp pain in the middle of my forehead.”

“Sounds delightful,” Clary says, sipping her coffee.

“You said you were a Warlock, and this was your spell,” Alec says, turning back to face him. His eyes flit all over Magnus’s face, like he’s looking for something, and Magnus hopes to high heaven that he finds it. “Can you fix it? They’ve tried telling me what I’ve forgotten… but it hurts when they bring it up. But there’s a piece of my life that I’m missing, and I want it back.”

I want it back.

Magnus inhales sharply, trying to compose himself.

Alec is still looking at him curiously, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “So, can you fix it?”

Magnus finds himself winking, strength filling him for the first time in a few days. “Alexander, darling, I think you’ll find there’s not much that I can’t do when I put my mind to it.”

*

It’s Clary who figures it out, half an hour later. She puts her now-empty coffee cup down slowly and says, thoughtfully, “What if it’s not a memory spell? What if it’s a blocking spell?”

The room grows still and silent.

Clary taps her finger excitedly against the page in front of her, pointing at a particular passage. “Think about it. If it was a memory spell, then it would have affected all of Alec’s memory, wouldn’t it? But he can still remember everything except… that one thing, and the moments surrounding it. It’s blocking something specific.”

Alec glances sharply at Magnus. “Is that possible?”

Magnus murmurs under his breath for a moment, running it over in his head. “It definitely makes more sense than a memory-altering spell. The problem is, I’m not quite sure how to combat it. It may take a while for me to think of an antidote.”

Alec deflates, all the energy leaving him in a rush.

Magnus doesn’t quite know if it’s his place to reassure Alec. Before, he would have stepped in with no hesitation, held Alec closely and soothed him, just as Alec would have done for him. Now, he glances to the side, and Simon pastes on a cheery grin.

“But that’s one step closer to an answer! Now all we have to do is figure out the antidote.”

“No pressure,” Clary adds, with a small, comforting smile, and Magnus sighs. He’s got his work cut out for him.

“I’m staying,” Alec says suddenly, standing up straight. Magnus feels his insides freeze as the words sink in.

“Pardon?”

“Until you think of an antidote,” Alec explains. “I’m staying here. I want to help, however I can, and I want to be close to the solution.”

Clary’s eyes flick between them anxiously. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Alec furrows his brow. “Why not?”

There’s a small silence. Magnus can’t think of a reason that isn’t ‘because you used to love me, and now you don’t remember who I am.’ He dismally wonders when this became his life.

When it becomes clear that Alec is still waiting for an answer, Magnus clears his throat and waves a hand dismissively.

“It’s perfectly fine. I have a guest room down the hall you can stay in until I can find the antidote. You’re always welcome here, Alexander.”

The last part is too warm, too caring, because Alec looks surprised, and then thoughtful.

“Thanks,” Alec says slowly, and Magnus hurriedly turns to face Simon and Clary.

“Well, allow me to see you out. It looks like I’ve got a busy few days ahead of me.”

*

Alec confronts him a few days into their new living arrangements. He’s spent the past few days skirting around the edges of the loft, examining things and asking Magnus the odd question, and Magnus honestly can’t take much more of it. He keeps expecting Alec to drop a quick kiss on his forehead, or offer an opinion on a book he’s reading, or take his hand absent-mindedly to examine his new nail polish. He expects quiet laughter and unashamed flirting and even the odd complaint, but this Alexander is different. He’s reserved, and quiet, and stoic, and it takes a piece of Magnus with him every time he sees the curious wariness in Alec’s eyes.

And then Alec confronts him, as Magnus is combing through a stack of books, and he remembers just how smart and direct Alec can be.

“I’m not stupid,” Alec says quietly. “I know this has something to do with you. I was in your house when the spell backfired, and you knew who I was, but I don’t remember getting there. I don’t remember your face or your name. I was too confused, at the time, to think much of it, but you’re a part of this, somehow.”

His face creases up in pain, and Magnus hushes him. He puts the book down on the table beside him and steps forward.

“Just try and relax,” Magnus says soothingly. “Thinking about it is only going to cause you more pain, Alexander.”

“There’s that, too,” Alec says, through gritted teeth. “You call me Alexander. Not Alec, like everyone else does. And you always reach for me. I don’t think you even know you’re doing it.”

Magnus stares in surprise at his hands, which are poised in mid-air. He lowers them, and sits heavily on the nearest chair with a deep sigh. Alec watches him, his eyes intent and his expression pained.

“I’m right, aren’t I? It’s you that I’ve forgotten.”

Magnus clears his throat. “It appears that the magic has blocked me from your memory. All those missing spaces in your past are spaces that I used to fill.”

Alec sits down opposite him. There’s only a table between them, littered with herbs and books and vials, and yet it feels like an immeasurable distance, vast and wide. Magnus wants to reach out, but the idea of rejection fills him with dread.

“So, you were a friend? You must have been a good friend.”

Magnus doesn’t know how much of the truth will hurt Alec. He has a feeling that Alec already knows the truth, but is skirting around it.

“My things are here, my shoes and books. Or at least, I think they belong to me,” Alec muses. “So, we must have known each other well. Magnus, I—”

And then he drops his head into his hands, tension in every line of his face. His shoulders grow rigid with pain.

“That’s enough,” Magnus says firmly. This time, he does reach out, regardless of his own hesitation. He slides a hand across the table and prises one of Alec’s hand away from his face, revealing a miserable expression. Squeezing his fingers gently, and ignoring Alec’s startled look, he says, “I promise, Alexander, we will find a way to fix this. We’re so close to an answer. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

Magnus can hear the love in his own voice, the warmth and softness, the ache. Alec must know what he means to him by now, he must, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply leaves his hand loosely in Magnus’s grasp, and nods.

*

It takes Magnus three more days before he figures out the antidote. It involves a convoluted recipe, a list of ingredients that spans the length of the living room, and a bout of vicious threats towards inanimate objects when the first batch spills all over the carpet.

It takes three days of Alec ghosting around the edges of Magnus’s life, three days of him walking around the loft, picking things up that used to belong to him and frowning at them. Three days of him sparring, shirtless, in the middle of the living room, testing not only Magnus’s self-restraint, but also his sanity.

It takes three days before Magnus carefully pours the antidote into a vial, stoppers it, and breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s going to get his Alexander back.

*

For one heart-stopping moment, nothing happens. Magnus’s stomach sinks as Alec continues to frown, gazing off into space, and then the potion bottle slips from Alec’s fingers. Magnus darts forward to catch it, and when he straightens up, Alec is gazing at him in awe.

“It wasn’t that impressive,” Magnus jokes, waggling the bottle, but he can feel a spark of hope catch alight inside of him. There’s really only one reason why Alec would be staring at him like that, and he’s proved right a second later, when Alec surges forward to cup Magnus’s face with his hands. The bottle slips again, landing with a dull thud on the thick rug.

“Magnus,” Alec says hoarsely. His hands are warm and callused, and his thumb smooths a pathway Magnus’s cheekbone. Magnus lets his eyes fall close and leans into the warmth. He can feel his heart hammering away inside his chest, and he swears he’s never been this nervous in all his life.

“You remember?” He has to check. He has to be sure. “You remember me?”

Alec’s laugh is shaky and a little breathless. “How could I forget?”

Magnus swats him on the shoulder gently, opening his eyes. “Now really isn’t the time for teasing, love.”

He raises both hands to cling to Alec’s wrists, drawing them away from his face. He can feel Alec’s pulse stutter at the touch, under his forefinger, and he slides their hands together until they’re holding hands, fingers tangled together.

“I remember you,” Alec promises him. “I remember meeting you. I remember you making an awful joke about meat, of all things. I remember you teasing me about how you like a dirty lair.”

“Love a dirty lair, actually, darling,” Magnus corrects him. There’s relief in him, growing, blooming. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in days.  

Alec’s eyes crinkle when he grins. Then he grows serious, his eyes shining. “I remember a lot of things, but mostly, I remember that I love you, and I wouldn’t be without you, whether I could remember you or not. I kept wanting to come back here, even when I didn’t know you. I wanted to be here, with you. I love you, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus breaks Alec’s hold on his hands to rush forward and kiss him. Alec inhales sharply as their mouths meet, and Magnus closes his eyes, hands stroking up Alec’s arms as they kiss slowly, shuffling forward to get as close to each other as possible, to breathe each other in. Alec sucks gently on his bottom lip, and Magnus pulls away with a tiny gasp before diving right back in again.

“I missed you,” Magnus says breathlessly, between kisses. “I missed kissing you, and I missed talking to you, and I missed picking up your god-awful socks from around my loft. I missed telling you that I love you.”

“You haven’t actually said it yet,” Alec teases, redirecting his attention to Magnus’s neck. “Not since I remembered you.”

“I love you,” Magnus says immediately. “Allow me to show you just how much.”

And then he pushes Alec, laughing giddily, in the direction of their bedroom.

*

In the morning, things grow a little more serious.

“What would you have done?” Alec asks, his voice deep and warm with sleep. They’re lying on the gold sheets, and Magnus’s eyes are half-mast. He feels pleasantly sleepy, but not tired. The bone-deep exhaustion has faded.

“If it hadn’t worked,” Alec continues, when Magnus quirks an eyebrow at him. “What would you have done if the antidote hadn’t worked?”

Magnus sits up, the sheets pooling around him. Alec stays where he is, gazing up at him seriously. Magnus knows there’s no right or wrong answer. He knows that Alec would understand, regardless of the answer he gives.

“I would have tried again,” Magnus says. “Until I found one that worked.”

“And if you didn’t find one?”

“I have a very long life ahead of me,” Magnus says, deflecting slightly with a teasing grin. “I would have found one eventually.”

Alec sits up slowly and cups his chin with a gentle grasp. He presses a soft kiss to Magnus’s lips, and then draws back slowly, thoughtfully.

“If something like this ever happens again, you have to promise me something,” Alec says. “You have to promise me that you’d do what’s best for you, in the long run. The last thing I want is to lose you, but I want you to be unhappy even less. It would kill me if you spent your life hurting because of something like this.”

“It would kill me to spend my life without you, Alexander,” Magnus says gravely, and Alec’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

They both know there’s no easy answer here, so Magnus takes the most obvious route, brushing his fingers along Alec’s cheek.

“How about we both promise to do what’s best for the both of us, if something like this ever happens again? Does that work?”

Magnus knows there’s no easy answer. He knows there’s no way either of them could be truly happy if something like this happened again, if it weren’t resolved. He also knows that right now, Alec is here, with him, whole and safe and sound, and for right now, that’s more than enough.

Alec smiles softly, that familiar, loving smile, and his eyes fix on Magnus, recognising him, knowing him. He tilts his head and kisses Magnus’s palm reverently, and Magnus sighs happily.

“Yeah, Magnus. That works.”

#arrowsandwhiskeykisses #malecsanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

[janeykath318]

Meet Your Daughter: A Pirk Fic

@mrseclipse9856

“I see congratulations are in order, Kirk,” Admiral Richard Barnett told the young woman in civies with a baby strapped to her chest. After resigning from the fleet seven months ago, Jen Kirk had come back to San Francisco to see her mother get her captain’s stripes, undeterred by having a two week old newborn in tow. Her abrupt departure from Starfleet just after the Nero tragedy and graduation had been the topic of much speculation, but Jen had hidden away from the world in her old hometown of Riverside, Iowa until her daughter’s birth. She had braced herself for a barrage of questions and eyebrow raising silent judgment from the brass, knowing most of them already had a pretty low opinion of her. The worst part, however, was facing baby Emma’s father, who just so happened to be one of said Admirals now and had no idea he had offspring.  

“Thank You, Admiral,” she said graciously. “I thought this might help explain why I chose to leave the Fleet.”

“Very good reason,” he smiled back at her. “You doing okay?”

“We have our ups and downs,” she admitted, looking down at Emma’s little head, “but we’re getting along okay. She’s a pretty content baby. Adjusting to the weird sleep schedule has been the challenge for me.”

“Ah, yes, I remember those days,” he replied fondly. “She’s a real cutie, though.”

“I think so too,” Jen agreed.

Nearby, she could see Admiral Pike engaged in tense conversation with her mother. The man had barely acknowledged her presence and when he’d seen what she was wearing, well, he hadn’t so much as looked at her. It was deeply Disappointing, but not surprising, given how things had ended between them. Nevertheless, she’d have to find a way to talk to him.

Politely taking her leave from Barnett, she approached Winona and Chris, steeling her courage to face the man who’d broken her heart.

“Excuse me, Admiral,” she announced in her most polite, formal tone, cringing at how stiff she sounded. Pike looked like he wanted to flee, but Winona’s stern gaze held him firmly in place and he finally nodded, not really looking her in the eyes.

“Of course. Here, or in private?” he asked.

“Private.” Jen admitted.

“Very well. We’ll go to my office. Captain?” he asked Winona, indicating she could come too if she wished.

“Nope. This is between the two of you,” Winona declined. “I’ll wait out here. Try to act like adults,” she implored them and they both flushed. Chris still looked spooked at being near her, but slowly made for the door.

“After you,” he said, waving her to go first. He’d always been the gentleman like that, Jen recalled with a pang of nostalgia for the good old times before he’d let the fear of what the brass would do ruin everything. He’d used to treat her like a queen when they were alone.

Now, they were just two awkward exes and she was about to unleash the proverbial elephant in the room.

Once in his office, they faced each other with a silence so thick, Jen felt like the gravity had been turned up. Unable to stand it long, she took a deep breath and spilled her secret.

“Chris-- I mean, Admiral,” she began, bouncing on her heels a bit to settle down Emma, who stirred restlessly.

“I hate to spring this on you like this, but I tried repeatedly for months to contact you and was ignored so I decided now was as good a time to spring this on you as any: Meet your daughter, Emma Renee Pike.”

She let these words sink in as the Admiral turned a sickly shade of whitish green and gripped the edge of his desk for balance.

“You’re kidding me.” he said faintly. Jen shook her head. There was no other possible man it could have been.

“How?.......” He looked like he was going to pass out. Jen felt slightly sorry, but it was his own fault he’d ignored her calls and changed his number.

“Oh, you know how, Christopher,” she said with an evil grin. “I could give you the exact details of the exact night she was conceived if you wish. I figured it out when I was trying to keep myself from puking my guts up early in the pregnancy.”

The greenish white shade swiftly changed to a dark red as he flushed at the suggestive tone and use of his full name. She knew how it riled him up being called Christopher and she’d once taken full advantage of said knowledge. Even now, it was still useful.

Chris sat down hard, swallowing and staring at the baby as if he was just now seeing her.

“Daughter.” he said faintly. “So this is why you disappeared after you resigned.”

“Yes,” Jen admitted. “I decided I couldn’t end it--end HER, but with all the publicity and still hurting from the breakup, I went home to Iowa.”

“Makes sense. When was she born?”

“Two and a half weeks ago. Bones was there and helped me through it, best friend that he is.”

“So that’s where he went all in a hurry,” Chris mused. “About bit my head off when I asked where he was going. Now I know why.”

“Yep. Bones doesn’t like you very much at the moment,” Jen informed him.

“That’s putting it mildly,” her ex admitted with a rueful expression. “Glares daggers at me whenever I run into him. If looks could kill, I would be murdered many times over. Did the labor go okay?”

“I was told It was typical for a first time birth,” she sighed. “But for a few hours, it was indescribably awful. I probably cursed you in twenty different languages. When they mention a ring of fire, they aren’t kidding!! But she was more than worth it, the sweet little darling.”

She dropped a kiss on the baby’s head. Emma had fallen back asleep and was the epitome of newborn angelicness.

Chris cleared his throat and looked awkward again.

“You were pregnant when we were fighting Nero then.” he stated. “When did you find out? Before or after I ended our…...thing.”

That irked her. How dare he call it a thing?

“A relationship. We had a relationship, Chris,” she corrected him coolly. “As for when I knew, I found out after I collapsed on the bridge on the return to earth while you were still in surgery. When I woke up in sickbay, Bones yelled at me, fixed me up, and then told me I was pregnant. He offered to murder you in cold blood. Be glad he takes his oath as seriously as he does.”

“I am,” the repentant looking admiral admitted.

“I should have just told you once you were awake and cognizant, but I couldn’t deal with facing you then. If you thought us being together was too risky, what would you have said about me carrying your unborn baby? By that time, I decided I was going to go through with it and didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

“Jen, I’m very, very sorry you had to go through that alone,” he apologized.

“Don’t be,” she said firmly before he could continue. “She’s a precious baby and the light of my life. All I need from you is to know whether you want to be involved in her life or if you’d rather treat her like a dirty little secret, in which case we’ll get out of your hair and never trouble you again. I’m not here to blackmail you or beg for money. Much as I hate the way you dumped me, you do deserve to get the chance to know your kid.”

She could see him wince as her pointed words hit home. The ball was in his court now. Gently adjusting the sling so Emma’s head was visible, she turned so Chris could get a better look. The look on his face went from weary regretfulness, to interest, to fascination, to awe in a matter of seconds as he looked his fill of the adorable infant.

“Wow!” he breathed, getting back up and moving around his desk. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen one that small. She’s beautiful, Jen. Takes after you.”

“I think she has your stubborn chin and scowl, though,” Jen commented, trying to ignore the pang of bittersweet joy at his subtle compliment. She was relieved to see he was beginning to relax a little.

Cautiously, Chris took a few steps closer and Jamie’s heart lurched again as the smell of his cologne brought back more memories. She’d loved his scent and used to nuzzle against his jaw on purpose to smell it. Chris would usually kiss her head and pull her close with a light chuckle.

“I, uh, hope you don’t mind I gave her your last name,” She said, scrambling to think of something to break the awkwardness.

“Of course not,” he said softly, still gazing at Emma. “It’s amazing she survived all the stuff you went through during the Nero crisis. That’s one tough little girl.”

“Her dad survived Romulan torture and her mother survived ice monsters, and Vulcan beat downs, so I’d say she comes of strong stock,” Jen agreed proudly. “Speaking of which, I’m glad to see you walking so well,” she continued, genuinely glad to see the progress he’d made. When she’d left, Bones hadn’t been able to say whether he’d ever walk again. Now, he was getting around pretty well, with only the occasional use of his cane for support.

“That’s the result of six months of pain, sweat, and a general desire to spite the entire universe,” Chris admitted ruefully, glancing down at his legs. “My therapists were saints to put up with me for so long.”

“Now that sounds more like the Pike I know,” Jen grinned. “Bones said you’d surpassed his wildest expectations.”

“He hasn’t said a thing like that to my face,” Chris snorted. “Just gives me a hard time. He may have saved my life, but he definitely wasn’t happy about it.”

“What can I say? Bones is loyal to a fault. The one person I can always count on,” Jen added, perhaps a tad passive-aggressively. “It might be awhile before he forgives you.”

Chris wiped his hand over his forehead in a troubled manner and sighed.

“Jen, I admit I made a terrible mistake by underestimating how much you’d be hurt by ending our relationship, but I don’t know what I could have done that wouldn’t have threatened everything you worked so hard for.”

“You didn’t KNOW that, you just assumed it,” Jen retorted. “You didn’t even give me an option of riding it out with you. Whatever it was, we could have faced it together. You know they would never have had any evidence that our relationship influenced my grades or was coerced and technically, Bones got my on that ship against your knowledge when I was supposed to be grounded. Sure, we would have probably taken some crap, but they wouldn’t have enough to kick either of us out. It’s all a moot point now, since I ended up leaving anyway. Your doing the “right thing” had the exact result you were trying to avoid. We thought we were careful. I still don’t know how my birth control failed, but it did and here we are.”

“If I’d had had the self-control to wait until after graduation, to act on my feelings, we wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.”

“Maybe, Maybe not,”Jen shrugged. “But the question remains, will you accept Emma as your daughter or try to pretend she doesn’t exist?”

Chris paced back to his chair and sat down, leg starting to stiffen up from standing too long. He was very taken with Emma, but clueless about fatherhood. And how could he be involved without embroiling all of them in a scandal? Jen didn’t need that stress on top of caring for a newborn.

It came down to a simple choice: take responsibility and be a good father, risking censure and scandal, or protect his career by turning away and permanently breaking all ties with both Jen and Emma?

The stifled part of him that was still very much in love with Jen violently objected to this as well as the newly awakened part that had a definite interest in helping parent this tiny little one, who was now blinking awake and revealing big, beautiful blue eyes.

“Oh, my.” he whispered, eyes suddenly welling up. “Jen, I have no idea how this will work, and I have no clue how to be a…..dad, but I would like to be in her life, and maybe in yours again, if you’ll let me.”

Jen wasn’t sure about that last part, but for Emma’s sake she was glad he’d offered. She allowed a relieved smile to curve up her lips.

“Thats…..wonderful, Chris, and way more than I expected when I came out here.” That stung him, but he knew he deserved it and bowed his head in acknowledgement. He used to be the one she confided in, looked up to. He’d been both dazzled by her and very proud of her as she’d headed for the career he knew she was capable of. Now, he’d only just met their child two weeks after her birth.

“Tell me what I can do, Jen.” He implored, meeting her eyes full on and getting lost in their blueness for a moment.

“You can start by communicating. Maybe give me your new number? Come to Iowa for occasional visit. Tell the Brass the truth when they ask why you’re always going to Iowa. Maybe ask Phil for tips: he’s got experience in the parenting department.”

Chris smiled. That he did. Phil had a grown son from his late wife Alicia and very lively twin red-headed daughters from Cait. He’d heard plenty of crazy tales of mischief, cuteness and woe from his best friend. Phil had stuck by him after Nero and made him get the right help as he worked through the trauma and difficult physical therapy. He’d also disapproved of Chris’s treatment of Jen, but didn’t say much about it, preferring to let McCoy do that part.

“Certainly. Is yours still the same?” he asked, pulling out his device and looking at the contact list.

“Yeah,” Jen confirmed, getting out her own and carefully punching in the code he gave her. “There we go! The first step.” She slipped it back into her belt just as Emma started to fuss.

“Uh-oh, sounds like someone’s ready to eat again,” Jen crooned. “You’ve been such a good girl for mama! Time for a well-deserved meal.” Reaching around her back, she untied the ends of the long piece of fabric that held the baby to her chest, then sat down in the chair across from the desk and eased Emma out of it onto her lap, pulling her out of the wrap and grinning down at her.

“Hi, honey, you getting hungry?”

Emma confirmed this with a little wailing sound that melted Chris’s heart. Heaven help him, he was falling for her already. He got up from his chair and engaged the privacy glass.

“You go right ahead and feed her here, if you want to. I’ll clear out and try to pacify her grandma by informing her of our agreement. I forgot how intimidating that woman was until I caused you grief.”

Jen smirked. “Maybe don’t do it in the future, huh? Just a thought. The whole “mama bear” saying exists for a good reason. We protect our offspring fiercely.”

He smiled at her and Jen’s own heart melted a little. She’d never been able to totally resist his smile, even now when she wasn’t sure if she would be able to forgive him for a while.

At least, he’d accepted Emma and not forced a paternity test. That would have been the ultimate sign of distrust and made her even more wary of him.

“Thanks, Chris,” she told him. “We’ll plan on talking more before I go back, right?”

“For sure.” he confirmed, and slipped out the door, leaving Jen alone to feed the baby.

Wide-eyed, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath as he slowly processed what had just happened. Jen had popped back into his life. He was a dad. She didn’t punch him in the face. She was going to let him co-parent their daughter. Their daughter was beautiful and tiny and precious. He was suddenly terrified.

“Hey, breathe Chris,” a voice said beside him. Winona and Phil stood there, looking both worried and amused at the same time.

“I was an absolute IDIOT.” He declared, once he’d calmed himself down. “Utter, utter fool. She’s gorgeous, Winona. I think I already love her.”

Winona’s expression softened. “I’m glad you’ve seen the error of your ways and yes, Miss Emma Renee Pike is the most beautiful baby in the galaxy. Did you and Jen reach a truce?”

“I think so,” he said, still a little dazed. “I’m gonna need help, though. Phil, I have no clue. How do you be a dad?”

“Trial and Error and a lot of love and patience,” Phil answered. “I think you’ll do fine. Congratulations, by the way. What a way to find out, huh?”

“Like I said, I was an idiot. Thought she’d be better off without me in the long run.”

“And maybe she will,” Winona put in. “But that’s a later discussion. I’m thankful you two are talking again. She missed you terribly.”

“And I missed her,” Chris said honestly. “I’m going to start by working on winning her trust back so we can be civil and cooperative parents at least. Anything else…….well, it’s much too soon to say.”

He tactfully left out the part where he was still hopelessly in love with her and wanted to win back her heart as well as her trust. No more cowardice for him. Chris Pike was on a mission.

#my fics #pirk #the longest one shot I've ever written #pike x kirk #Female Kirk #baby Emma #angst #cuteness

[whoareurl]

Pretty in Pink (2)

so @kotyonoksnz commissioned me to write another part to her giveaway fic so here it is. sorry i’ve been painfully slow on commissions. i’m moving out next week and man this whole month has just been lskadjsf but i’m on it don’t worry!!!

[commission info] [buy me a coffee]

-

A cough gives Yuuri away in the end. His throat has been unbearably itchy all day but it finally bursts from him around four in the afternoon and he finds that he just can’t stop. He’s doubled over with his hand against a tree trunk for support and Viktor is hovering worriedly beside him, asking questions he can’t answer because his head is spinning and his lungs are aching with the pressure.

“Yuuri? Oh, Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Viktor’s voice is starting to get shrill the way is does when he’s feeling panicked. He says something else in Russian and runs a hand through his hair.

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath and purses his lips before letting his breath out carefully and slowly. When it doesn’t trigger another awful cough, he wipes at his leaking eyes and offers Viktor a sheepish look.

Viktor’s eyes are full of concern and he’s biting his lower lip so hard that Yuuri is worried he might draw blood.

“Are you…” he begins but his voice cracks and Yuuri’s heart clenches in his chest. Viktor clears his throat. “Are you alright now?”

Yuuri swallows. “I’m alright,” he says.

“Good,” Viktor says then slaps his arm. “Then what were you thinking?”

Yuuri’s mouth drops open in surprise. But isn’t that characteristic of how Viktor Nikiforov makes him feel?

“How long have you been sick? No, don’t answer that. We’re going home.”

And Yuuri tries to take him seriously because he knows that Viktor is worried but the blossom flower crown adorning Viktor’s head just makes the whole picture indescribably funny and Yuuri lets out a snort.

At Viktor’s glare he says, “I’m sorry, it’s just…” he taps his own head and Viktor’s fingers wander in his hair until he finds his flower crown. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. But then he’s laughing too and they’re giggling against the tree until it catches in Yuuri’s throat and he lets out another itchy cough which thankfully doesn’t descend into a full blown fit.

(He stifles a few sneezes but they just hurt. At least he doesn’t have to hide them anymore.)

Viktor presses his hand to Yuuri’s forehead and sighs. “You don’t feel warm,” he says and his frown lines lessen a little. “Still, you’re obviously getting a cold. We should get you home.”

Yuuri doesn’t mean to deceive his fiancé but he just can’t being himself to say actually it’s not a cold it’s hayfever without feeling like he’s saying something which isn’t appropriate outside the bedroom. His cheeks flush just at the thought of it.

So he lets himself be led away from the festival and towards the street where Viktor bundles him into a taxi and pets his hair, insisting that Yuuri try to get some rest. Though he isn’t actually ill, the day has taken quite a bit out of him and Yuuri finds himself dozing against Viktor’s shoulder despite himself.

Hiroko greets them as they walk into the inn but when she sees her son’s red-nosed face she disappears into the kitchen and returns not a minute later with a damp cloth and starts wiping Yuuri’s cheeks, cleaning away the pollen. At first, Yuuri leans into the cool touch of the cloth but he very suddenly remembers that he’s standing next to Viktor Nikiforov and his mother is treating him like a child.

“Okaa-san! I’m not six!” He whines, completely cancelling out the point he’s trying to make.

Hiroko rolls her eyes. “Of course you’re not. You had much more common sense when you were six.”

Yuuri chokes while Viktor chuckles beside him, clearly enjoying watching Yuuri be thoroughly embarrassed by his mother. Yuuri feels like he’s twelve years old again and he simply cannot believe his mother is embarrassing him in front of Viktor Nikiforov, the coolest person in the world.

Eventually, Hiroko tosses the cloth aside and cups Yuuri’s face, gently running her thumbs under his eyes and tutting.

“You need a shower,” Hiroko says, swatting at him until he scurries off to the bathroom to do just that. She turns to Viktor and eyes his flower crown with a strange look somewhere between fond and exasperated. “Did he make that for you?”

Viktor’s expression turns dreamy as he remembers Yuuri clumsily twining the blossoms together with unpracticed fingers, setting the flower crown on his head reverently like Viktor was truly a king at his coronation. Yuuri made him feel so special that his heart hadn’t stopped singing in a whole year.

“Yes!” He grins. “Yuuri is so sweet.”

Hiroko smiles and shakes her head. Before she can say anything, Viktor speaks up again.

“Hiroko-”

“Vicchan, what did I tell you?” Hiroko asks with a fond smile.

Viktor flushes slightly. “Okaa-san,” he says, pausing to take in the novelty. He loves living here in Hasetsu with Yuuri and his family. He loves calling Yuuri’s mother his own. “Do you have any medicine for Yuuri?”

Hiroko shakes her head. “Oh no, he already had some this morning.”

Viktor frowns. “But won’t it have worn off by now?”

“No, dear, it lasts all day.”

“Wow!” Viktor says. “I didn’t know there was cold medicine like that.”

Hiroko’s confusion is written all over her face.

“Yuuri doesn’t have a cold, Vicchan,” she says slowly and Viktor is starting to feel incredibly stupid. Clearly he’s missing something here but he can’t figure out what it is.

He narrows his eyes in thought and bites his lip. “But, I thought…” he starts, remembering Yuuri’s flushed pink nose and awful cough.

“I don’t know the word in English,” Hiroko admits but she gestures to Viktor’s head. “The flowers. They make him sick.”

Viktor’s heart stops in his chest. Shit.

Hiroko puts a hand on his arm. “He didn’t tell you?” She frowns and Viktor shakes his head. She sighs. “He’s always been embarrassed about it but I thought he would have been sensible at least.”

Viktor feels awful. The guilt settles in the pit of his stomach like he’s just swallowed a boulder. The cherry blossom festival had been Viktor’s idea. He thinks back to when he’d first proposed it and Yuuri’s hesitance which he’d put down to Yuuri having been so many times that it wasn’t exciting anymore. But Viktor had persisted and waxed lyrical about how romantic it would be and how he wanted to see how Yuuri’s skin shone amid the petals. He’d been such an idiot and now his poor Yuuri was suffering and it was all his fault.

“Vicchan, it’s alright,” Hiroko says, obviously seeing his distress. She takes both his hands and squeezes gently.

Viktor swallows. “It’s my fault. I should have-”

“No, it isn’t,” Hiroko interrupts with a shake of her head. “Yuuri is a grown boy now. He has to take care of himself.”

Her words don’t make Viktor feel any better but he nods and forces a small smile anyway before untangling himself from her hands and excusing himself to check on Yuuri. The shower is still running when he gets there but he can hear Yuuri’s echoing sneezes over the jet.

Feeling guilty still, Viktor hangs his head and the lower crown comes tumbling off but he catches it before it hits the floor. He quickly goes to put it in his room and gets changed while he’s there. He knows well enough that pollen on his clothes will probably set Yuuri off just like cat hair on Yurio’s clothes does him.

He looks at Makkachin fast asleep on Yuuri’s pillow and smiles. She still has a cone around her neck from her last visit to the vet which was why Viktor had left her at the inn. (She’s also still a little grumpy with him for letting the vet put the cone on in the first place but she’s mostly over it now.).

When the shower shuts off, Viktor sits to attention. He hears Yuuri stepping out and the fwumpf of the towel being pulled off the rack. Another unrestrained sneeze-

hiYISHHEW!

-and a harsh nose blow which only worsens Viktor’s guilt. Yuuri sounds terribly stuffed up and miserable. Viktor wishes he’d known and they could have done something else romantic like go for a walk on the beach or on a coffee date or have Yuuri lead him through Hasetsu’s quaint little lanes and teach him how to read the street signs.

The bathroom door clicks and Viktor bites his lip. Yuuri looks much worse than he did just fifteen minutes ago. The way he’s fiercely rubbing at his eyes explains why. He must finally be giving into the itch and his eyes are growing puffy and angry.

(Though Viktor can’t help but take a brief - BRIEF! - moment to enjoy the sight of Yuuri’s uncovered abs.)

“Hey, no,” Viktor says softly, startling Yuuri as he crosses the room and pulls Yuuri’s hands away from his eyes.

“V-Viktor!” Yuuri squeaks as Viktor presses a soft kiss to each of Yuuri’s closed eyes. “How long have you been there?”

Viktor frowns. “Long enough. You sound miserable, darling.”

Yuuri sniffles and swipes at his red nose. Even in the throws of allergies, he looks beautiful. Post-shower Yuuri is one of Viktor’s favourite Yuuris (though he loves them all equally, of course). His hair is somewhere between his Eros look and his normal look with wet strands falling into his eyes from where they’ve been pushed back.

“It’s not too bad now,” Yuuri says.

Viktor pouts. “I’m sorry I made you go!” He wails, plopping back down onto Yuuri’s bed with his face in his hands. “I didn’t even notice you were feeling so awful. I’m a terrible fiancé.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything for a moment and Viktor’s mind immediately wants to take his silence as confirmation that he is, indeed, a terrible fiancé and Yuuri thinks so too and he’s probably going to break up with him and he’ll be alone again and-

Yuuri sits next to him and kisses him on the cheek.

“You’re not terrible, Viten’ka,” he says gently, using the diminutive he tends to save for when Viktor is particularly upset or depressed. It makes a little flame settle comfortably in Viktor’s heart. “I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Viktor asks before he can stop himself.

Yuuri blushes and looks down at his knees. “I...I was embarrassed,” he admits. “It feels wrong to say stuff like that.”

Viktor nods. He thinks he understands.

“Is this because of the-” he trails off and gestures vaguely at Yuuri whose flush deepens as he nods.

In a clear attempt to change the subject, Yuuri asks, “Where’s your crown?”

“In my room. I- I thought you wouldn’t want to be near it but I didn’t want to throw it away because-” he stops.

“Because?” Yuuri prompts patiently.

He’s so beautiful, Viktor thinks.

“Because you made it,” he says at last and, instead of blushing, Yuuri smiles.

“I wish more people knew how sweet you are,” he says absently, running a slightly damp hand through Viktor’s hair, eliciting a soft involuntary noise of pleasure. “But then again, maybe I’d rather have you all to myself.”

It’s a sweet moment, a romantic moment; it’s exactly the kind of moment that Viktor had planned for the day before everything went wrong. But it doesn’t last because Yuuri’s nose has other ideas and he whips his hand out of Viktor’s hair as he pitches forwards, fingers curled around his nose.

hiiSHHEW! ihKISHHEW!

“будь,” Viktor says, glancing around for the tissue box and finding he can just about reach it without getting up of he stretches far enough…

(He ends up on the floor.)

Yuuri cleans himself up and smiles down at Viktor fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’ve said that before,” Viktor muses, settling himself on the floor with his legs folded beneath him. “But I think you like me this way.”

Yuuri’s smile only widens until he’s grinning, eyes twinkling in that beautiful way that makes Viktor weak at the knees. “Of course I do. I only ever wanted you to be yourself.”

And for that small kindness, Viktor is forever grateful.

#acefic #snzfic #allergyfic #commission #acefic yoi

[blacknovelist]

For the title game? "Winter's Curse", "The Gift of Words", and "Spark Unrelenting."

“Winter’s Curse” feels like it’s either some vaguely angsty introspective thing on a character concerning their experiences with winter/the cold in general, or the tale of how one character is extremely spiteful towards winter, almost just ‘cause they can be.

Something like The chill cut them to the core vs “fucking winter, god, why does it have to come every goddamn year?!”, probably. I kind of like both, but moreso when they’re separate. 

-

“The Gift of Words” is a Pyre fic, i’m calling it now

I think I like the idea of something where, um, the Reader is maybe thinking about their reading skills, maybe while the other Nightwings are asking about it/learning how to read a bit? And the others, since they’re all in the Downside and they’re all saying how “everyone is an equal nothing, here”, and, while the Reader is kind of ridiculing themselves for it (in that kind of “wow haha i’m kind of a fool lmao” way), some of them give the Reader a little bit of their own outside perspectives of it? 

There’s something kind of magical about being able to glean so much meaning from all these scribbles on a page.

And maybe later, in the future, they look at the city that used to be the Commonwealth, changed, and think about what used to be forbidden to them, and be awed by it.

-

“Spark Unrelenting” is the title to an introspective fic that follows a character, pushed to the ground and shoved aside; how they grow, how they learn, how they stay smiling and kind and prepared to change the world, even if they don’t quite realize it. They will become the person they've always needed. At the end, another character would acknowledge or mention this, and the feeling that brings the first character is indescribable. The kind of idea that makess me feel warm and content and happy, I think, haha.

#novelist answers #ask meme #insp #guardianlioness #for the last idea; am i talking about izuku? kirishima? hedwyn? the world may never know tbh #winter's curse was the hardest tho lmao. there's a few directions that feel cliche to me bc of my time in the rotg fandom i think #ah well

[cottagecori]

Who are your top 10 friends on here and why?

Okay so I have a lot more than ten friends, but I’ll do the first ones I can think of rn. (there’s another ask like this, so I’ll add more people

@linmanuclmiranda -Kate is the definition of talented. All of her fics, and all of her ideas in general, are so incredible and well thought out and well written. She is a self-described hoe and honestly same?!? like she basically talks about all the sings I would say if i weren’t scared of people judging me. She is so fucking kind to me, and is always ready for me to scream random things at her. I am so grateful for her. Without her, I probably wouldn’t still be on this site. She brought me into the hamfam and gave me friends that I will fight for. She’s a gem

@hxmiltonmusicxl - Mikayla is a blessing to humanity. She’s an actual cinnamon roll with the biggest heart, and always knows what to say. Everything she does makes me smile and our daily conversations bring me lots of joy. Her art is beyond incredible and just wow. It’s indescribable. It’s almost as beautiful as her. Oh wait, that’s a lie cause she’s the prettiest little bean there ever was. If you aren’t friends with her than what the fuck are you dying with your life. She is one of the greatest friends you’ll ever have.

@hamiltryingmybest - MY MOTHER EFFING PRINCE

Scratch that, Elliot’s a king among us mere peasants. He’s constantly astounding me with his talent, charisma, and wit. Like what the hell my dude, leave some scraps for the rest of us?! But seriously, this precious babe is a truly kind person. Like we were facetiming the other day, and his laugh?? is everything?? And his smile could cure all diseases, it’s that powerful

@angerybisexual - I love Frankie with all my heart, but like I have no words. She took them all when she made lincado. and when she made those shirts that I actually really want.

@icanneverbesatisfied - ASDFHLKTJPOMPRE’NOIBGDSGFOIJREFOGMAE

ROSE. IS. A. GODDESS. IN. EVERY. WAY.

@raise-our-glasses-to-freedom - BJ is funny, relatable, smart, clever, and somehow we’re friends??? Like he’s so awesome and a fantastic writer, and I’m not but he always says I am (he’s lying), and so I don’t get how I am even allowed to be friends with this guy. He is my Enjolras and a damn good one at that. Thanks for dealing with my shit and screaming with me :)

@pretztato-cake - MerriKate is the cutest y’all. Her snaps are some of the highlights of my day. Angel in the flesh 💛💛

@secretschuylersister - HOLY FUCKING SHIT. IT’S BEEN HOW MANY MONTHS AND I’M STILL SHOOK. TO. THE. CORE. THAT TAYLOR AND I ARE FRIENDS?!?!?! She’s everything I want to grow up to be: unendingly kind, ridiculously gifted at writing, heartstoppingly gorgeous, and in love with Lin. She’s the definition of goals. She’s such an amazing friend and I can always count on her if I need some support or encouragement. 100000000/10 will be friends with Taylor for as long as I can

@sarajanesmith42 - Ren is a precious, extremely wonderful human who doesn’t deserve all of the shit life throws at him. Ren has an AMAZING musical idea that everyone should go ask him about. I could say a million different things about his wonder and how he always leaves me in awe, but that would take over a day to complete