#Feeling a bit burned out from trying to do more of the advent prompts too.

[peggyrose19]

Day 19: Soulmates

Jeez formatting this was a bitch. Advent for tonight is a little bit different, because the prompt was an accidental double. So, instead of being a sensible human being and just writing a different one-shot off it again, I decided I should get my O’Knutzy soulmate AU done instead, thinking it’d be fairly simple. Oh how wrong I was. Who knew writing an actual plot and developing a relationship was so hard? Me, but I started it anyway so really I did this to myself. So if it’s complete shit, I apologize in advance. Some day I will go back and edit and add to it. Characters by the always amazing @lumosinlove 

Summary: Finn and Logan were soulmates, and had been since the moment they were born. Both had a journal filled with messages to each other, given to everyone once they turned 18. When Leo turned 18, he opened his journal to discover something rather peculiar. What did one do with two soulmates?

Sorry the summary is shit, I suck at them :) Journal entries are in italics and text messages are in bold because tumblr won’t let me underline. Hope you guys enjoy, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Leo stared down at the paper in front of him. His mind had gone blank when he’d opened the book. His soulmate journal, given to him today, on his 18th birthday. He had imagined this going hundreds of different ways. It had consumed his every waking thought for the past six months at least, what he would say, how his soulmate would respond, the possibility of words waiting for him already. What he hadn’t imagined was the words from two distinct hands written on the pages. 

He thumbed through the book as word after word flashed by. Conversations flowed between these two people, going back nearly three years, according to the dates on each page. The handwritings were different. One was messy, scrawled, and Leo caught a few words of French here and there. The other was neater, script-like, and the ink was dark and consistent.

Unsure what to do, Leo began reading some of the journal. He had never heard of this happening before; he wondered if the other two knew. 

What’re you doing up, it’s nearly 3 am? was the first thing Leo’s eyes fell upon. 

Can’t sleep. What’re you doing up?

Reading. But that’s irrelevant. Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Okay fine. Night, Fish.

Night. 

Leo could feel the affection between the two, even just from those simple words. He kept reading, flipping back through conversations that felt too private for him to be reading. His eyes found the words “I love you” written in big stark letters, filling nearly half a page. He slammed the book shut.

What was happening? Why did these two already seem to have a life? Why were they in his soulmate journal?  He pushed back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly opened it again. Words began appearing on the page. 

Finn, you there?

A moment later, answering words appeared, Yeah, what’s up?

Shit day. Then, I miss you.  

Leo wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this. He didn’t know who these people were, why they were in his journal, what to make of the clear connection they had. The best way, he supposed, to resolve this was to see who they were.

Hesitantly, Leo grabbed a pen and set it to a blank page.

Hello? 

Umm… hi? one of them wrote back quickly, the messy one. 

Who are you? the other, Finn, added. 

I’m Leo, he wrote, unsure of what else to say. I just got my soulmate journal, he added. 

There was no answer for a while. Leo had just about given up when words began appearing on the page.

This is our journal. We’ve had it for about four years now. I’m Logan, by the way, he added. 

I’m Finn.

Uh, well it’s nice to meet you both. 

Neither Finn nor Logan were sure what to make of the situation. Finn grabbed his phone, watching Leo’s words spread across the page, telling them about who he was and what he’d discovered when he’d opened his journal for the first time that morning.

Lo, is it even possible he’s also our soulmate? Is that even a thing? He sent the message to Logan, turning back to the journal.

Leo, where are you from? he asked curiously. 

New Orleans, came the response. Born and raised. What about you both?

New York City, Finn responded right before his phone pinged. 

He pulled up Logan’s response. I’m not sure, maybe? I’ve never heard of this happening before but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t. 

Quebec, came Logan’s response in the journal a moment later. Leo answered, but Finn wasn’t paying attention.

He was focused on the message on his screen, mind running through all the soulmate stories and tales he’d heard over the years. He remembered his brother getting his, being ecstatic at the messages he’d received. His friends all getting theirs, writing excitedly to their soulmates from the first moment. Even his parents talked fondly about it, the two of them meeting after a year and already being in love. None of them had two soulmates.

But then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His grandmother, telling him a story, late one night when he couldn’t sleep, about her best friend from high school. She had had a girlfriend when they went off for college, her soulmate. When they connected some years later there had been a boy too. She had never questioned it. After all, this had been the 60s. People didn’t ask questions like that. 

But maybe it was possible. Maybe this could explain the hole that still seemed to exist between him and Logan, no matter how much they loved each other.

~

As the months passed, Leo slowly made it through the journal. Finn and Logan had both given him permission to read it, although initially he had been surprised. He barely knew these people, why were they trusting him with their deepest secrets? But Finn said that’s what a soulmate journal was for and so Leo spent each night before bed reading a few pages, getting to know his apparent soulmates better and better with each word. 

He learned that Finn was a year older than Logan, 23 now, and his birthday was in August. Logan’s was in December, four days before Christmas. He read page upon page about their siblings, Finn’s older brother and Logan’s three older sisters. He wondered briefly what it was like living with siblings. 

They’d met before, in person, two years ago, Logan flying from Quebec, where he lived, to New York City for New Years. Leo’s heart ached when he read that. He wondered what the city had been like, what it had been like when they met. 

He wished he could meet them. 

He learned the small things about them, too. Logan had a terrible sweet-tooth. He was French-Canadian and could speak it fluently. (Canadian French was very different from New Orleans French). He couldn’t dance to save his life, despite his sisters trying. Finn knew how to figure skate, but had switched to hockey early on. He still kept up with it.The only food he could make without burning was hot chocolate the way his brother showed him. Finn liked to feel useful, to make people feel better. He liked to read. He liked to write letters to Logan while he slept. And Logan would scold him for staying up late, then absolutely melt at the words written on the page.

Leo wanted one of those letters. 

By the time he reached the entry from his birthday, three months had passed. It was quickly becoming summer in New Orleans, despite it being only May. As he got to know his boys better, and they got to know him, Leo wished more and more that he could meet them, see them. He wished he’d known them four years ago when they first met. He wished they’d had that time together. 

He wanted them to fall in love with him.

~

Hey Le! Logan wrote cheerfully late one afternoon. Leo sat outside in the shade of a nearby tree, flipping aimlessly through the journal. He felt conflicted. But the nickname sent flutters through his heart. What’re you up to?

Not much, he replied. Sitting in the garden. What’re you up to?

You have a garden?

Leo chuckled. Yeah. I can see the ocean from here actually.

You can see the ocean?? Jealous. 

Yeah, it’s also 85 degrees.

Nope, I’m out.

That made him laugh again. That’s what I thought.

I just don’t know how you do it! It’s like a million fucking degrees there all the time. I would actually die. 

And it’s always a million fucking degrees below freezing where you live. 

….touché. Leo could sense his reluctance through the paper. He wished desperately to see Logan’s face in that moment, see the pout he undoubtedly was wearing right then. To kiss it away, maybe press him back against his bed…

No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. Because if he started down that path there was no coming back. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that. 

~

Finn we need to talk 

The text came one day as Finn was getting ready for bed. He paused in brushing his teeth, typing out a response.

FaceTime in 5?

Sounds good

If he was being honest with himself, Finn had expected this a while ago. He had known it was coming, knew it needed to happen. From that first message, Logan laughed at something Leo had written. Finn knew in that moment he was gone. They both were. The only problem now was how to say it.

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Lo,” he answered as the call connected. 

“Hey.” 

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from your text.” Logan didn’t laugh, and that’s when Finn knew this was really bothering him.

“Logan, I know what this is about. It’s okay.” Logan’s eyes snapped to his face. 

“What- how?”

“Babe, you’re not exactly subtle. And, well, neither am I. I know it’s about Leo. It’s okay.”

Logan sighed. “I just- I know he’s our soulmate, obviously. But it still feels like I’m betraying you? How can I love both of you? How does that even work?” Finn’s eyes widened at Logan’s words. 

“You love us? Both of us?”

“Harzy, how could I not? You’re my soulmates. But it’s more than that. I love you for you, not just because of some match in the system. And I want us, all of us, to be together.”

Finn was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said quietly, “That’s why we never made sense. Why there always seemed to be a, a hole. We need Leo to complete us.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly.”

~

Leo, you there? Finn wrote.  

Yeah, came the reply a moment later. 

We have something we want to tell you.

We?

Hi Nut, Logan added hurriedly. Finn smiled at him through the phone screen. He wished he was there in person. He wished both of them were. 

Logan?

Yeah, it’s me. Fish and I talked. About this, us. We want- 

“Don’t take my moment!” Finn scolded playfully. “Besides, no one can read your shitty writing, I would know.” Logan pouted, but let Finn continue. 

Sorry about that. What we were trying to say is that we want you. If you’ll have us. I know all of this is new for you, it is for us too. But we need you. You’re the missing piece of our puzzle, and we don’t work if we don’t have you. 

Leo read the words over and over. Silence buzzed in his ears. It didn’t seem real, that these two boys, who had been each other's for so long, now wanted him. His mind couldn’t make sense of it all, of the love he could feel even through the thin pages of his notebook.

Leo, you there?

I’m here, he managed. I just don’t know what to say. 

Good or bad? Finn asked cautiously. 

Good, he laughed. Of course I want you two, do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen? 

Oh yeah? Tell us.

“Logan!”

“Sorry.”

Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please tell me you’ll come see us? I need to see your face. 

Please? Finn added for good measure.

Leo could have jumped up and down in that moment. Of course I will come visit. Of course. Then, a moment later, heart in his throat, he added, I love you guys. 

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Dial Tone by firenxe Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  34699 Tags: Texting, text fic, Drarry, non-magic au, AU Summary:  Harry Potter decides to text the number on his arm. Draco Malfoy finds himself woken up by messages. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Say the words / then stay around by teatrolley Rated:  Not Rated Words:  5703 Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Not That Much Angst Really, a lot of love, and two very confused people, Auror Harry Potter, Office Romance, Ministry Work Summary:  They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad? Or: A few months of the start of the relationship between the fumbling, blind-leading-the-blind and in-love Harry and Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 With A Bite and A Hiss (and Some Curry On Top) by ZandraGorin Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  4779 Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Parseltongue, Pets, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Injured Pets/ Animals, Kissing, Fluff, Parselmouth Harry Potter, HP Fluff Fest 2020 Summary:  Draco keeps bringing animals home and keeps cooking curry for Harry. Harry is of the opinion that it has got to stop. Well, not the cooking curry part. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 the 1 by Darlinxx Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  5913 Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Awkward Romance, Domestic Fluff, Pansy attempts at matchmaking, is this meet cute? idk, Harry sucks at flirting, Draco doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings, Harry is the perfect gentleman, Draco acts like a bitch but is actually a softie, Draco wears earrings on this one, and Harry takes it in stride, if that weirds you out then you can fuck off, haha just kidding I’m not mean Summary:  "You're not terrible. I mean, maybe not everyone's type, exactly, but…you're just a little –" "Insane?" Draco supplies. Harry looks at him. "Intense," he says. "That's not always a bad thing." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Love You More by hedwig4evr Rated:  Explicit Words:  37185 Tags: Love, and marriage, Sickeningly In Love, Engagement, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, bubble baths, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Frotting, Hand Jobs, Shower Sex, Bottoming from the Top, Switching, Top Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2018, sex in the bath, Lots of love and sex, Early Bird prompt, lots of fluff, Tooth-achingly fluffy Summary:  After years together, Harry decides to propose to Draco. Once it's revealed to their families and friends, though, they start to question whether this is what they really want. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Aggressive use of Florists by Mountainwolf Rated:  General Words:  53521 Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Floriography, Snark, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Florist Harry, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Dick Jokes, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Oblivious Harry, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, lots of magical flowers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Godfather Draco Malfoy, Heartbroken Harry Potter, Soft Harry, Caring Draco Malfoy, Drama, Family Drama, A little bit of angst, Reformed Draco Malfoy Summary:  Harry is being lovesick in Neville’s flowershop after having been dumped, and Draco is very aggressively winning over ministry members by sending them fuck-you flowers. Harry is absolutely no help but learns a lot about floriography, stupid purebloods, and Draco. OR; Harry struggles raising Teddy alone, longing for a partner and a family. His future dreams for domestic bliss have been crushed by his ex, who left him for a better looking, more ambitious, less 'damaged' model. A lot of people try to support Harry, but he is, as ever, hiding how truly bad things are going. Then, Hermione -and a few others, set Draco on him and things start developing in a direction neither really expected. Everyone sees how good Draco and Harry could be together, and with some political maneuvering from unexpected sources-and a lot of flower deliveries, they start to see it too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cracking The Code by orpheous87 Rated:  General Words:  12218 Tags: Advent Calendar, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy Summary:  Harry makes an advent calendar for Draco. What we see are snippets of their mornings throughout December. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 This Summer by Saras_Girl Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  39256 Tags: N/A Summary:  This is a summery romantic comedy featuring my favourite ensemble cast, in which Harry is confused, Draco is Draco, and Hermione attempts to eat all the things. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Something Good (The Second Time Around) by Ravenclaw626 Rated:  Explicit Words:  99382 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Harry Potter, Stay-At-Home Parent Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, Research, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Pregnant Harry, Medical Procedures, Childbirth, labor pains, Harry Potter is a Good Parent, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Non-Canonical Character Death, Homophobia, Marriage Proposal, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, Single Parents, Single Parent Harry Potter, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Rimming, natural birth Summary:  After putting his youngest on the Hogwarts Express, Harry feels a little lost and without direction in life. There’s someone on the platform who notices, though, who also knows how it feels to come back to an empty home. Can this someone help Harry find his way? After years of contentment, acceptance, and ‘good enough’ — he never could have imagined that a whirlwind romance with his former childhood nemesis would become his something good after a lifetime of trials. A story about love, happiness, and second chances. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Realisations by orpheous87 Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  15486 Tags: Post-Second War with Voldemort, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Mild Peril, Happy Ending, H/D Erised 2020, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Alternating Summary:  When they return to Hogwarts for their final year, the students are surprised to learn that they will take part in 'team-building' activities instead of contributing to the House Cup. Paired up by Professor McGonagall, they need to work together to complete the challenge. Of course, new friendships and relationships are built along the way. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Bloom by tsauergrass Rated:  General Words:  1473 Tags: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Like you're in for a toothache, Language of Flowers, Harry Potter is an oblivious idiot Summary:  Harry ruffles through the buckets of flowers in the cooler. “What are you looking for?” “Something special. It is a note.” Harry pauses. For days Draco has visited his flower shop, but not once has he ordered anything with a message. Harry Potter has fallen in love. Naturally, the only way to do so is to pine Victorian-fashion, his secret hidden behind blooming flowers. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 These Tender Moments by theartfulldodger Rated:  General Words:  1380 Tags: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, SERIOUSLY ALL THE FLUFF, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Kid Fic, Sickly sweet medicine for all your despair, A warm hug, Domestic Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Summary:  A Christmas Eve filled with overindulgence, a sleeping toddler, creatively altered expressions and slow dancing in the kitchen. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 That Christmas by Janieohio Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  18729 Tags: Christmas, Fluff, Romance, Family, Humor, 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2020 Early Bird, Kid Fic, POV Alternating, Implied Sexual Content, Pets, Married Life, Toddlers, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Protective Siblings, Gay Pride, Referenced Death, Adoption, Surrogacy, Christmas Cookies, Precocious Child, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian, See Notes for Translation Link Summary:  25 years of Christmases in the life of Harry, Draco, and their friends and family. 25 drabbles, one year per chapter, set in my That's Life Together universe. Read on AO3

📜 Blind Hope by cami_soul Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1051 Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Established Relationship, Short & Sweet, Fluff and Mush, Did I Mention Fluff Summary:  Harry is working up the courage to ask Draco to move in with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Fill a Tent with Love (and Wrap it with a Bow) by riddleme_this Rated:  General Words:  1604 Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Quidditch, Setting up tent, Draco and Harry are best friends, Love Confessions, Bad Flirting, so much fluff ahh Summary:  Harry is determined to confess his crush on Draco. Enter a Quidditch Match, setting up a tent, some bad flirting, and things might just actually work out. ❤️ Read on AO3

[loveismyrevolution]

2020 Fic Year in Review

Thank you for the tag, @chriscalledmesweetie ☺💕

Total number of completed works: 

7

Total word count: 

272837 (posted according to Ao3, written quite a bit more)

Fandoms written in: 

BBC Sherlock, Johnlock

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? 

I wrote more fics but different fics than expected. Lockdown and the overall madness made it hard to concentrate on more serious stories and unexpectedly brought forth more lightheartedness and fun.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? 

That's always a difficult one. To quote a well known and loved actor: "I don't do favourites."

If anything, I have some favourite scenes from different fics. 

For example, l loved writing the scene where John and Sherlock finally go back to 221B in "Shatter Me", the way they finally dare to open up by sharing their music and letting their facade down to show their emotions to each other.

And in "Purple Pirate: uncovered", I loved the scene where Sherlock is giving a lap dance to someone else. There is so much more to that than what meets the eye, which all unfolds in the daring but I think very cathartic sex scene in the next chapter.

Or...l loved the experience of (not) writing the words that are left unsaid "between the lines" in the dialogue only fic “More Than Words Can Say" and to see how their emotions came through. 

Did you take any writing risks this year?

Yes, I did. I challenged myself to let go of my beloved descriptions and long winded narratives and wrote a dialogue only fic, which turned out to be a lot of fun! Not easy though. It's my contribution to the 2020 advent ficlet challenge by @missdaviswrites : "More Than Words Can Say". 

Also, I wrote my first full on sex scenes, which I was a bit afraid of beforehand. However, it turned out to be easier and much more fun than expected.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? 

Yes. Lots. Most of all I want to finish my close-to-heart fic "Shatter Me". Also my beloved little whirlwind from "How He Came To Be" (co-written with @shylockgnomes /Littleweedwrites on Ao3) needs their story to be continued.

In addition to that there's a long list of ideas for stories I want to write. For example there's a Tattoo Shop Au plotted out in detail that waits to be written. As well as a S4 fix it I already started writing, for which I'm trying out a new style again I'm excited about. And quite a lot more; some raw, some outlined, some written a couple of chapters in… we'll see which of them will be finished next year.

Most popular story of the year? 

That is  surprisingly "I'd never call you", which started out as a just-for-fun silly plot bunny prompted by a tumblr post about drunk call love confessions. Initially I even asked my betas if it wasn't too silly to be posted. Apparently it was not.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: 

First of all I have to say, I'm immensely grateful for every single person reading any of my stories. Every hit, kudo, comment or bookmark is dear to me and makes writing and sharing my stories an even greater joy. So there isn't actually something as under-apprechiation. If you ask me which story I personally liked to get more attention then there are two:

Talking about finished stories? That's "The Purple Pirate: uncovered" in my opinion. True, it's a very self-indulgent fic which ticks all my personal boxes, but to be honest, some of the reactions surprised me and I think that this story is somehow misunderstood. 

Talking in general, it's my WIP "Shatter Me". It's a slow burn friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending. It's a long fic with lots of introspection. Maybe that's scaring readers away, although I personally think the slow development with all its "two steps forward, one step back" progress is rather natural and needed and the happy ending makes it all worth it.

Most fun story to write: 

Another unexpected and unintended shorty. "The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night" started out with a cute anon on @inevitably-johnlocked 's blog and turned into a fun to write crack fandom-Sherlock-crossover so to speak.

It goes neck-and-neck with the "funny shorties" (as my beta likes to call them) of my "Hairy Situations at 221B"-series. The first one, "Bad Hair Day", was another impulsive writing bout; a plot bunny distracting me from more serious stories. Apparently exactly what I needed this year as the bunnies kept coming and turned into a series with even more stories planned.

Most unintentionally telling story: 

That's most definitely "The Purple Pirate: uncovered". Underneath all the humour and smut, it explored their relationship in a way I wouldn't have expected myself while writing. Also, it deals with the deep rooted need to feel respected as the person you really are and to be seen in your entirety. In the end the content turned out much more serious than initially expected, even though (imo) the humour and smut are still the red thread of the story. 

Biggest disappointment: 

That my muse didn't allow me to finish "Shatter Me" this year. I just wasn't in the right mindset—of course when I started posting the story at the start of this year I hadn't anticipated the impact of a pandemic wreaking havoc . However, I miss those boys immensely and I'm excited to get back to them. Heaven knows, they've waited long enough... 😉😏

Biggest surprise: 

That I'm able to write short and funny and readers seem to like it. I would never have expected it, but I'm more than happy about that accidental discovery.

I'm tagging (if you like to join and haven't done it yet): @loveinthemindpalace @consultingpacha @annecumberbatch @keirgreeneyes @johnlocklover221 @ithinkthereforiamfandom @the-reading-lemon @fellshish @totallysilvergirl @elwinglyre

[spacemilkies]

Red Velvet | rufus shinra x reader

rqst: anything sinful for baby daddy shinra. i beg on my hands and knees D:

a/n: motivation to write comes in mysterious ways. seriously this remake had no business making these men so attractive. i thought advent children was an upgrade, yet here we are.

edit: sorry for the repost, it looked so strange formatted on my mobile so i wasn’t sure if it was the same for everyone or not. but hey, this way i can name it after a cake now and potentially turn it into an accidental sugar daddy series. 

turns out it was the damn image 

implied avalanche!reader

“No, please. Really. The honor is all mine.”

It was ironic really. The term ‘honor’ thrown around so seamlessly as the highest paid men in Midgar sat splayed out on his white couch. Talking confidently down the speaker to an agent of some press company while the fatness of his cock filled the confines of your mouth.

He’d hardly reacted in the slightest to your insistence on breaking his resolve; pulling out all the stops to evolve the slightest embarrassing whimper. Anything to have other other voice on the line question his well being .

But the man was as resilient as always, going as far as to card his hands through your hair in encouragement. It would be a lot more irritating if you didn’t find his display of prowess so fucking sexy.

With a huff, you restrained from biting down and instead drew back far enough to focus some attention on the tip. Your enthusiastic efforts were only proving to tire yourself out and at this rate he was no closer to finishing than when you started.

And if there was any more fitting creed for Rufus Shinra, it was to: ���finish what one started and accept the consequences at the end.’

“Of course. Thank you for your time.”

It was the tightening grip at the base of your skull that signified the ending call before it truly came to a close. Drawing your gaze upwards, you found it met with obvious amusement. His hand now freed of his phone stroked tenderly at your cheek.

“What a naughty girl trying to embarrass me like that. Where are you manners?”

Now you really did bite him, albeit less vicious than your thoughts as you nibbled at his foreskin. His answering huff was certainly heavier than before as if weighed down by the previously possessed prudence. You responded eagerly to the thumb pulling back at the corner of your lip, widening your mouth to the obvious prompting.

“Now there’s my good girl,” he murmured quietly as he fed you his length. The tip you once tortured now did the same to the back of your throat, nudging teasingly against your reflex. You did your best to swirl your tongue where you could, which was ironically everywhere yet nowhere at all. He took up more space that was permitted for flexibility.

The wetness behind your eyes was prominent but not enough to show themselves to the world. Not that it mattered against the sound of your broken gags. The touch still present at the back of your head prevented you from retracting back on his cock. Though quitting wasn’t part of the plan.

Rufus smirked at the mirrored resolve you threw back at him, equally amused and proud. “I can’t decide where I want to fill you.” His hips rolled, edging another inch down your throat. “Seems like such a waste to coat your throat. You wouldn’t even be able to taste it. But we don’t really have time to get you all wet and bothered, now do we?”

It went left unsaid how wet and undeniably bothered you already were.

It wasn’t like you could verbally confirm or deny.

Shifting your weight from where you’d been kneeled for the better part of nearly half an hour you wiggled closer and made a feeble attempt to relax your throat further. Reflexive tears burned the brim as the action slid him in deeper than you could practically accommodate.

“You do this to both of us, you know?” he rasped. Try as he might, he was a mere mortal in the confines of a man. “Always disappearing and showing up when our schedules are the tightest. Rarely ever have enough time to play properly.”

Your occurrences weren’t properly planned nor at your own discretion. Though it truly did speak volumes how your own schedule could compete with the overcompensating agenda of a public figure. The two of you made due, however. Rufus changing an in person interview to an impersonal over the phone just an hour prior to the arrangement.

His grip curled to the knuckle.

“Why don’t we just-”

The sharp buzz vibrated against the backside of your jeans. It was an inconsistent rumble, matching the staccato ringtone of a specific alert you couldn’t easily ignore. It was rather comical how sympathetic you look as you stared up at him from the base of his dick.

Rufus had all the right to look disgruntled but merely raised a brow with a heavy sigh. He certainly made you feel every inch as he withdrew, leaving you more than a little breathless as you fell back.

Wedging the phone from between yourself and the floor, you confirmed your suspicion with a roll of your eyes. There were times that working a regular nine to five came across a bit more appealing.

“What now?”

“Oh touchy, touchy. Did you fail to get your boyfriend’s dick wet?”

The scratch of Biggs tone of aggravating endearment never failed to grate on your nerves. It was common awareness of what you were often off doing, even if they weren’t aware of who it was with. Likely for the best in all parties.

“B-” Closing your eyes briefly, you dared to collect yourself. At this rate, it was pretty apparent that this call meant you were needed. “Give me something or fuck off.”

Peeking up, Rufus made no move to retuck himself, instead relaxing back against the couch as he awaited the conclusion of your call. It was obvious that neither of you were going to get anywhere but you supposed this was his house and he could do what he wanted.

“At least get laid if you’re going to disappear like that. Fuck, now you’re going to be cranky.”

“I’m either going to hang up or give you an earful. Try me.”

The latter was a bluff, but Biggs would know none the wiser.

His frantic tone told as much.

“ Base meeting o’ hurry the fuck up.”

The call ended promptly before buzzing briefly with what you assumed was a location.

“You are such a busy little duckling.”

Rolling back into your haunches, you used Rufus’ purposely spread knees to being yourself up. His untouched cock was just as red and flushed as you left it, certainly not far from bursting.

You could finish it quite easily actually but then you would be the one left unsatisfied and that didn’t seem fair.

Rufus clearly read your thoughts without fail.

“For two minutes of your time, I could spend hours between your legs in return.”

Huffing out a laugh you managed to make it to your feet, towering over him with your own amusement,” You had thirty minutes. No one told you to deny yourself.”

He chucked in return,” Like you don’t enjoy breaking the seal of my restraint.”

You did. Too much really.

You watched mistrustfully as he leaned in closer but his hands remained within sight and out of threatening range.

His lips met yours briefly, a slow and languid appreciation. “You’re right. Thirty minutes of your time was more than deserved. I’ll return the favor.”

A sharp smack against your rear broke the spell and you stumbled back.

“Now run off, daddy has a few things to take care of anyway. Let me know if you’ll be returning tonight.”

At this rate you would take down your own team just to get back.

[bytheangell]

Give Yourself a Try

(Advent Prompt: Presents) (Jimon | Gen | Hanukkah) (Read on AO3)

When Jace asks him about the upcoming holidays, Simon shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m even going to celebrate,” he says noncommittally. His family thinks he’s dead, Clary isn’t around. The whole thing feels like a reminder of everything he lost this year. “Somehow the idea of celebrating Hanukkah alone seems worse than not celebrating at all.”

“Oh,” Jace says, looking surprisingly concerned. “What if I come over and do it with you?”

Simon’s caught off-guard by the offer. “Really?”

Jace nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Simon eyes Jace carefully but his offer seems genuine enough. “Alright,” Simon finally agrees. “Thanks.”

He’s done an impressive job of ignoring his crush on Jace long enough to reach the point of them becoming pretty good friends, and he can’t deny that he’d love to spend the holiday with Jace, even if Jace is only doing it to be nice.

Maybe the holidays wouldn’t be as bad as he thought after all. It isn’t what he’s used to, but if Jace can give it a try, so can he. 

---

Simon can tell that something is off with Jace. He’s been nervous all day, not that he’s said anything about it. Simon tried very hard to ignore it, not wanting to pry into something that isn’t any of his business, but now Jace just keeps staring at him anxiously and he has to know why.

“Is everything alright?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what I said before, but I can do this alone, really, it’s fine.”

Simon wonders if Jace only offered to come out of pity and not because he really wants to be here with Simon, which Simon should’ve guessed from the start.

“What? No, I want to be here. And everything is fine,” Jace adds. “I was just wondering… if I could give you a present?”

Simon nearly drops the packet of matches he’s holding as he walks toward the menorah on the windowsill. “What?”

“Well, I was doing some research, and I know gifts aren’t really traditional. I didn’t want to, like, accidentally offend you or something,” Jace adds.

“You did research? About Hanukkah?” Simon knows he should be having a better conversation about this than just echoing back everything Jace says, but he can’t quite move past the shock of this revelation.

“A little,” Jace says cryptically, and the slightest tinge of red crosses high on his cheeks. Simon’s certain there’s more to it than Jace is admitting, but if there is he isn’t saying any more about it.

“Some families do gifts,” Simon confirms. “It’s a more recent shift.”

Jace nods as if Simon’s confirming what he already found. Simon watches Jace wait expectantly because that’s still not an answer to his question.

“You really don’t have to,” Simon emphasizes. “But yeah, a gift is fine.” He realizes Jace wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t already have one, which makes Simon overly aware that he doesn’t have anything for Jace. Shit.

“After?” Simon asks, motioning to the menorah which is the perfect stalling excuse, given the fact that the sunset just ended.

Jace nods, and Simon watches as Jace begins to fidget again, this time with the hem of his shirt. Simon notices then that Jace’s shirt is blue with thin silver stripes, and wonders if that’s intentional, too.

“You don’t have to say anything while I go through the blessings,” Simon reassures him. Except as Simon lights the shamash and begins to sing through the first of three blessings in Hebrew, he nearly stumbles over his words in surprise as Jace joins in immediately. It isn’t perfect, and Simon catches a few things Jace mispronounces or forgets entirely, but it’s impressive.

“When did you learn that?” Simon asks when it’s over and the candles are lit. “Is there some secret Jewish Shadowhunter course I don’t know about?”

“I learned what I could on my own,” Jace admits. “And called Becky for a few bits I couldn’t quite get.”

“That’s…” Simon starts, but can’t quite find the words to tell Jace how much that means to him. He also wonders when Jace even got his sister’s number to talk to her, but doesn’t want to ask that and derail the conversation too much just then.

“Sorry if it was awful,” Jace says quickly, obviously misinterpreting Simon’s hesitation.

“No, it was amazing! I…” Simon shakes his head a little in awe. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Speaking of thoughtful,” Jace says, walking over to where he left his coat and pulling a small box out of the pocket. “This is for you.”

Simon takes it with a frown. “I didn’t get you anything,” he admits.

“This isn’t my holiday,” Jace points out.

Simon knows he isn’t going to win this argument so he drops it in favor of opening the present. He sees the Star of David and immediately freezes.

“You should be able to touch it,” Jace says. “It’s set on a titanium backing and has a protective coating over the front.” Simon pulls what he sees is a necklace out by the chain. The religious symbol is set on top of a silver background, with a clear coating over it. “I’ve been assured that it won’t burn through, so you can wear it,” Jace adds.

It’s so unexpectedly sweet. Simon looks from the necklace to Jace who, on top of everything else he did to be there for Simon tonight, went out of his way to get this gift for him… Simon is pretty sure he could cry just then. In fact, he realizes he’s about to and quickly sets the necklace down on the table in front of him and excuses himself. He practically runs to the bathroom to compose himself, because Jace is just trying to be nice and he doesn’t want to ruin it by getting all worked up over a stupid necklace.

Except it isn’t a stupid necklace. It’s a really thoughtful, really meaningful necklace. It’s also bringing up a lot of feelings Simon’s been working very hard to ignore because he likes being friends with Jace and he doesn’t want to ruin that by getting too emotional and making Jace regret ever being nice to him. He just needs a few seconds to reel himself back in.

From the bathroom his heightened hearing tunes into Jace’s voice coming from the living room. Simon knows he shouldn’t be listening in just because he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him when he hears what Jace is talking about.

“I told you I thought the necklace was too much,” Jace says, then pauses. Simon realizes he must be on the phone. “Yeah, well, he practically ran after I gave it to him. Maybe I came on a bit too strong...” Another pause. “...I can’t ask him out now! I ruined everything…” Another pause. “Yes, of course I still like him.” Another pause, and then Jace continues very slowly and with his voice much more tense than before, “Yes. I did forget he can probably hear everything I’m saying. Goddamnit, Alec, you set me up-”

Jace curses and falls silent, and Simon imagines that was the very abrupt end of his phonecall. He’s pretty certain it isn’t good for his emotions to swing back and forth as wildly as they are tonight.

Opening the bathroom door, Simon makes his way back to the living room. “Ask me,” Simon says, not even pretending he didn’t hear the conversation.

“What?” Jace asks.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Ask me,” Simon says.

“Do you want to go out with-?” Jace asks.

“Yes,” Simon says before Jace can even finish asking. “I absolutely do.”

Simon watches as Jace smiles back. “Good, because I really wasn’t looking forward to returning the seven other presents.” --- ((a/n - hello friends! I just wanted to note that I’m not Jewish, but this idea wouldn’t leave my head and I wanted to give it a try to show Simon some holiday love! I read some articles a friend suggested and asked some clarifying questions along the way, so I hope I got the parts I mentioned in the fic correct. (It seems to vary as to whether you sing before or after lighting depending on personal traditions/varying teachings, so this is the one I went with!)  However, if I messed anything up, please kindly let me know so I can learn and fix as needed! <3)) 

[hazelandglasz]

Tin-Tanium, A Klaine Advent Calendar

Hi! Yeah, I decided to write all of the Klaine Advent prompts in one story going back the steps of a ten-year anniversary.

Merry Christmas, happy holidays everybody, and I hope you’ll enjoy this compilation!!

Abashed

Over ten years, there are many opportunities for a couple to embarrass themselves.

Kurt has plenty of memories that fit in that category, Blaine too.

Blaine and Kurt together, too.

Whether it’s from their early days (Kurt still can’t believe he used an entire notebook sketching their hyphenated names around hearts) or from the most recent years (Blaine prefers to hide his face in his hands rather than face the recollection of “Glitter Vampire”, no matter how many times Eliott tells him that it’s still a fan favorite), they have managed to feel abashed more often than not.

It’s not like they mind, though. 

Being abashed only lasts a moment--the memory, the joy of it, that lasts forever.

Brake

Slow and steady wins the race, doesn’t it.

So, sometimes, even though neither of them wants to slow down, one of them has to pull the brakes.

Oh, it’s not always when they are tearing each other’s clothes apart, get your mind out of the gutter.

(... they do have to slow down their loving romps sometimes, but it’s rarely because they want to and more because of coitus interruptus.)

They learned how to brake to keep their paths aligned; slowing down in their own rush to get all they want out of life in order to get there together.

And winning the race of life together is the only win Kurt and Blaine are interested in.

Careless

Kurt listened attentively, when his father told him to always be careful about his husband’s needs.

Blaine listened too, when Burt told him that though Kurt doesn’t always say it aloud, he has a way of communicating his emotions that Blaine has to “listen” for.

They do care for each other, throughout the years.

But.

But as careful as they are, or try to be, they can also behave in a careless way. 

Though they always try their best, neither Kurt nor Blaine can avoid letting their worst lashing out.

Eventually, though, they learn the real lesson behind Burt’s words: 

It’s not about never hurting each other--it’s about being able to heal from that hurt together, to talk about it and grow from it, together.

Dispensable

Every Spring, Blaine has the same problem.

Well it’s a problem for Kurt, anyway.

The moment the weather turns for the slightly better, Blaine turns himself into a white tornado, cleaning the apartment from floor to ceiling.

And, without fail, he always tries to hunt for the Dispensables.

“Why, pray tell, is this pile entirely composed of things from *my* side of the closet?”

“Because *you* have almost everything in duplicates.”

“They are collectors! If I ever use them or damage them, I will have a replacement.”

“They are taking too much room!”

“Not as much as your collection of cameras!”

“How dare you.”

“How dare you.”

Blaine pauses, holding a scarf in one hand and an empty cardbox in the other, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Maybe I overdid my impression of Marie Kondo.”

“And maybe I do have a hoarding problem.”

“Maybe we could do that sorting together.”

“Maybe we could find something else to do with all that free time.”

Blaine drops the box on the floor and carefully folds the scarf on the back of the couch. 

“I like the way you think.”

“You even put a ring on it.”

Event

One lesson the Hummel-Anderson household always applies: make an event out of every possible situation.

During the first years, it does make sense. They celebrate their successes, their achievements, as one does.

Then, it grows into something almost like a private joke between them: every little source of happiness becomes the reason for a party, a true event, even if it’s just opening a bottle of champagne while they sit on the floor, munching on a bag of chips, just because there is a Golden Girls marathon.

Because when you find things to celebrate with the person you love most, the sad things are just a little bit less sad.

Farm

Blaine wakes up in a jolt, something pulling at his unconscious mind to pull him from his dream.

Maybe it’s the cold spot in the bed next to him, or maybe it’s the grumbling sound coming from the living room.

“Kurt?”

“...”

“Kurt what are you doing?”

“Nothing?”

Blaine comes closer, and Kurt is sitting on the couch with his laptop on his bare knees.

“Are you watching porn? ‘Cause you know you wouldn’t have to hide it from me.”

“Not porn.”

“Okay?”

Kurt closes his eyes before looking away, turning the laptop’s screen toward Blaine. “Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I--oh.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“I know.”

“Farming Simulator 2010, that’s …”

“I know.

“... vintage, is what I was going to say. Any particular reason you needed to play that game at 2.14 AM?”

Kurt sighs, leaning his head into Blaine’s torso, now that Blaine stands closer. “It relaxes me.”

“Okay.”

“And I have been very tense.”

“Don’t need to tell me.”

“I know; so I wanted to unwind on my own to be a better husband.”

Blaine bends over to press a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “Farm away, darling.”

Grey

TW: anxiety

Most of the time, with the help of his therapist and different techniques he has developed over the years, Blaine can keep his anxiety at bay.

But some mornings, it’s not as easy.

Some mornings, the anxious little voice telling him he’s not worth the space he occupies is the loudest in his mind the moment he wakes up.

Some mornings, the sighting of grey skies without even a spot of blue can send him into a downward spiral he can’t seem to shake out of.

But with each passing year, Kurt becomes more attuned to the little physical signs Blaine’s anxiety lets out.

The tension in his shoulders, even as he wakes up, to which Kurt responds by closing his arms around Blaine’s upper body, forcing him to breathe with him until the tension melts away.

The way Blaine doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look directly at Kurt, to which Kurt responds by putting a cup of coffee in front of him and by kissing his temple.

Yes, Blaine’s anxiety is always around.

But with Kurt’s help, Blaine can keep it at bay.

History

Though they share a love for musicals, Kurt and Blaine don’t always have their obsessions in sync.

Unfortunately, it sometimes clashes.

Fortunately, the married couple has found a solution to keep from fighting over songs.

Medleys meet the Exquisite Corpse.

“I don't wanna talk

About things we've gone through

Though it's hurting me

Now it's history”, Blaine sings.

“History has its eyes on youuuu,” Kurt responds.

“You can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

See that girl

Watch that scene

Dig in the dancing queeeeeeen.”

“Hey not fair, there is no queen in Hamilton!”

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps insisting that Eliza is Queen!”

“True.”

Inconclusive

Around the seventh year mark, they wonder if they should … well, expand their couple’s horizon.

It’s a secret to none of their friends that the Anderson-Hummel have insane chemistry with one Starchild.

One evening, using the pretext of celebrating the comeback of the cronut on the foodie scene with one too many bottle of champagne, the three of them end up in bed together.

Some lubricant, condoms, giggles and panted names later, Kurt looks over the stunned figure of their friend to brush his fingers through Blaine’s sweaty curls.

“So?”

“Inconclusive.” Blaine sighs. “Yet.”

Eliot snorts between them. “Round number …?”

“Who’s counting?”

Join

A good way to keep the spark in its first meet glow is also to surprise each other.

One evening, Blaine comes home to Christmas lights suspended in the whole apartment.

“What the …”

“Welcome, sir,” Kurt says, wearing the Ringmaster’s outfit from his run as Barnum in Broadway’s Greatest Showman. “Would you join me for a very special evening?”

“I would,” Blaine says, smiling as he puts his hand in Kurt’s, and feeling his cheeks burning when Kurt brushes his lips against Blaine’s knuckles.

The evening is very special, Blaine tied to the armchair while Kurt takes off his whole outfit and feeds him bits of cheese and fruits and toasted bread.

Knit

“I’m bored.”

“I know. Why don’t you learn a craft?”

“Remember the last time I tried to learn a craft, like you put it?”

They both turn to the potter’s wheel they recycled into a coffee table. “Right. Maybe something less …”

“Space consuming?”

“Complicated.”

“What about knitting?”

“There’s an idea.”

--

Two days later

“Wha--”

“What?”

“Mon chéri, when we said knitting, I thought it would involve a couple of yarn balls and some needles.”

“This is yarn.”

“No, it’s not.”

Yes it is.

Learn

In a couple, some things come naturally, as easy as breathing.

Loving each other, for example.

For Kurt and Blaine, it’s knowing that whatever the storm, the tide will always bring them back together.

And some things are learned, through time and Life lessons.

What to cook as comfort food, for example.

For Kurt and Blaine, it’s finding out that they needed to be apart to be better for each other.

Some lessons are hard-learned, but eventually, they feel like they have always been known.

Meet

Dan is ready to slip under the table to take his ritual Christmas nap when Cecilia asks the question.

“How did you two meet?”

Now, all Dan can do is groan. “Nooo,” he moans, “why did you ask that?”

“Excuse you,” Kurt says, ruffling his son’s hair. “Don’t you like the way we met?”

“I heard that story at least 221 times,” he says, dropping his head to the table. “Besides, it’s just weird, when you think about it.”

Cecilia cocks one eyebrow at him. “Now you have to tell me.”

“Let me--”

Dan holds up his hand to stop his father in his tracks. “Nah, nah, nah, let me, because they will tell you that it’s so romantic, but in reality, Dad went to spy on Papa and Papa lied to Dad about a shortcut …”

Nip

“What is that thing sitting in that... thing?”

“That is a cat and she is sitting in a basket I knitted, thank you very much.”

“Since when do we have a cat?”

“Since Mrs Gimm’s had a litter and this one picked me.”

“Ah.”

“She went for me like she always knew me.”

“Aww.”

“And then she nipped my fingers.”

“That explains the band-aids.”

“Maybe.”

“So you decided to bring a feral cat into our house with a newborn because the only thing you knitted is that basket?”

“Feral, come on, maybe that’s an overkill, look how sweet she--Ouch!”

“Here, another kitten band-aid. Let me try.”

“Oh right, you’re a big beast tamer, right?”

“...”

“Is that her purring?”

“Either she’s purring or the neighbor just started a plane engine.”

“Oh yes, you’re purring, you little princess you …”

“Ahem.”

Opinion

Any couple counsellor will tell you this:

If you want a relationship to last, the most important thing to do is compromise, to make sure that both parties are happy.

Any couple will tell you this:

Some opinions are better than others. The only thing you can do, before choosing a hill to die on, is take a step back, breathe in and out a couple of times and--

“That’s so stupid it’s a wonder you can still breathe and talk at the same time!”

“I can’t believe you actually think that! What’s between your ears, lukewarm water?”

--start World War Three over the importance of the Beatles versus the Rolling Stones, I guess.

Possible

More seriously though, finding a middle ground is important, in any relationship. And the way to that middle ground can sometimes be summarized in one word.

“Possibility.”

Do you think you could agree to let me cook tonight, even though you say I burn everything?

Maybe.

May I buy regular milk instead of almond, because it gives me stomach aches?

You may.

Isn’t it your turn to change Kitty’s litter?

...Possible.

In just a few words, you can save your relationship from self-destructing, isn’t that something?

Remarkable

Over the years, through thick and thin, through storms and easy flows, the relationship formed by Kurt and Blaine only strengthens.

A fact that seems remarkable for a lot of their friends.

Their New York friends, I should say, since their Ohioan friends are not surprised to see them growing only stronger and more in love as time passes by, leaving them more united than they ever were when they were younger.

Is their relationship remarkable? Of course.

But not because they still look at each other with sparkles in their eyes, especially when they think nobody is watching.

No, it’s spectacular because it reminds everyone lucky enough to be with them that Love does exist.

Sisters

Over the years, Kurt and Blaine consider that they are the ones lucky enough to have been graced by the many women who entered their lives and remained there as chosen sisters.

Mercedes, Tina, Santana, even Rachel, of course, soul sisters who were meant to support them and challenge them to become better men.

Marley, Unique, Kitty, Jane--younger sisters who help both men to grow into mentors and future parents for Cecilia.

Lissa, Annie, Agnes--sisters of all ages who learn from them and teach them in return what they learned during their own lives until they met the couple.

Glee Club had taught them that family didn’t have to be born from blood, but life brought them a constellation of sisterhood that surrounds them and protects them, in a way, from themselves, from ever thinking they cannot get better.

Tub

“Blaine, I know that you’re really going Method for that role, but could you stop with the 1980, 1990 lingo?”

“As if!”

Kurt sighs before deciding to move on. “Do you like that ice cream? It’s from the new shop down the block.”

“It’s da bomb, hubby.”

“‘Da bomb’, really?”

Blaine has the decency to look slightly bashful. “Overdoing it?”

“Just a tad.”

“I’ll keep it to the theater, then.”

“Tubular.”

Ugly

When one uses his body as its professional tool, one is very peculiar about the way they see themselves.

And sometimes, as strong-minded the individual may be, societal expectations can become too heavy.

“Now I get it. I don’t get parts because I’m ugly.”

“Who said that?”

Kurt slams the bathroom cupboard closed, shaking his head at his own reflection. “I don’t need anyone to say it,” he seethes, “it’s obviously why none of the directors I auditioned for ever called back!”

Blaine comes to lean against the bathroom’s door frame. “Kurt …”

Kurt bends his head. “Blaine, don’t start. I know, deep down, that it’s not the reason, and that I’m not ugly. But right now,” he adds, turning his head toward Blaine without meeting his gaze, “that knowledge is buried deep, deep down.”

“Okay.” Blaine stretches close to Kurt, pecking his cheek. “Take all the time you want. But if you need my help digging for proof that you are quite the opposite of ugly, I’m right here. If you want to mull over it in silence, I can let you do it, and just stay here by your side, or walk around the block.”

“No. Stay.” Kurt finally looks up, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s. “I don’t feel so bad when you’re around.”

Vanish

Sometimes, when you are a couple of married actors, you have to accept that your husband is going to get a job when you don’t.

“I got the job!”

“See, I knew you were going to get a break! Which job?”

“The ad one!”

Blaine cocks his head to the side. “Which one? The one for the hotels?”

“No, the one for the detergent. You know, the pink one?”

“Vanish?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Kurt chuckles. “I should try and remember it before the shoot!”

“I’m very proud of you,” Blaine says, pulling Kurt against him for a kiss. “Want to rehearse your text?”

“I would, if you weren’t unbuckling my be-hey!”

“Look, I can make your pants just … vanish.”

“You’re terrib--oh, wow.”

Worthless

Along the years, along the moves, along the different steps in Life, people gather things.

Not necessarily the most expensive things in the world, just mementos.

Little things, really, that most people would discard as just worthless junk. 

But for Blaine, for Kurt, those little things are more precious than any of the things they bought once they started to get financially comfortable.

Like ticket stubs and Playbills from the shows they saw together.

Or like a ring made out of gum wrappers.

Yard

Speaking of financial comfort.

Once they became a household name, and once their student loans were reimbursed, both Blaine and Kurt agree.

If they are to be a family, if they are to raise a kid (or many), they need to buy a house. 

It takes them a while, but they manage to save enough money to put the down payment on a cute little house in Jericho, a house with a luxurious yard where Kitty Cat can pretend to be the tiger she once was, and where their babies will be free to climb the trees and run around and drive their little bicycles or whatever.

“Quite the white picket fence, Hummel.”

“Anderson Hummel, and yes, so what.”

Santana rubs her very round belly. “Not complaining, nor criticizing. Just observing. I didn’t picture you as Wisteria Lane-adjacent.”

Kurt shrugs. “Nothing Desperate about wanting a good environment to raise a family.”

Zealous

As they reach their tenth year anniversary, Kurt and Blaine feel like they have reached a point in their relationship where their ship is sailing on its own, so to speak.

They have found their groove, they can still surprise each other while knowing each other’s habits and needs, and they have their baby.

Who cries every night.

Blaine is at his wits end looking for a solution to soothe his son’s teething pain, but nothing works.

Or so it seems.

“This here's a tale for all the fellas

Tryin' to do what those ladies tell us

Get shot down 'cause you're over zealous

Play hard to get, females get jealous …”

The sound of the song is the only sound around the house.

No cries, no whimpers.

Just Kurt, apparently “bursting a move”.

“Kurt?”

The song stops, along with one of Dan’s hiccups that announce a storm.

“Keep going, keep going!”

Kurt hesitantly returns to the song, coming into view as he bounces Dan in his arms. 

“Young MC, really?”

In the same melody, Kurt replies between his teeth. “I don’t know what came over me, but I just started singing while he was crying and he sto-opped.”

“Magic.”

“Quite.”

“We need to give our thanks to Shuester, uh?”

“Over my dead body.”

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Evening Date - Mikey Way x Reader (Advent Calendar 2020)

Prompt: E: Evening dance (A night at a ball? Or maybe just silly dancing in the kitchen?) from @kairaiimagines​​​ Christmas Alphabeth prompt list on Tumblr  

Reader: wears a dress

Warnings: somewhat angsty? But with fluffy ending

Word count: 1 305

The music was too loud to talk, and the glass in your hand almost empty again. Damnit. You had only gotten a refill a couple of minutes ago, but with the deafening silence between you and Mikey, you had reverted to sipping on your coke constantly, and now the glass was as good as empty.

Glancing over at Mikey, you felt the heat in your cheeks intensify again, just as it had been doing the whole evening long. But he did look so good! The black suit he was wearing seemed a tad bit too big, as if it had been bought for someone with broader shoulders. The white dress shirt underneath fit perfectly though. And his tie was the same silver-blue as the prom dress you were wearing. Embarrassingly enough the whole gym had been decorated in the same colours, making it feel as if you had been planned as part of the interior design; the awkward, quiet high school couple at the Winter Dance, that did not know how to talk to each other, because he had been pushed to ask you out by his friends, and you had said yes because you had been crushing on him since junior year.

If you were quite honest? You were pretty certain he did not want to be here with you. Probably he had his eyes set on some cute cheerleader, or one of the school band girls. Not someone like you. Why had he asked you out anyway? You knew it had been his friends, pushing him. You had seen them literally push you into your direction. And you? had thought they had tried to encourage him, because he was generally very shy, and what else were you gonna say but yes when your crush asks you out to a dance? But now it was pretty obvious by his cold demeanour that he did not want anything to do with you. The burning in your eyes annoyed you almost more than the realisation that you would obviously never get a proper chance with Mikey.

Sighing quietly you took the last sip of your coke, and pushed away from the table. If he already did not want to talk, you might as well enjoy yourself.

“Would you like to dance,” you asked, over the table, almost screaming so he would notice you over the loud music.

Mikey’s head whipped around, his eyes wide.

“I- uh,” he glanced to the dancefloor to his classmates, all swirling girls around, and laughing. “I don’t really dance.” And never before did he regret not having taken dancing lessons as much as in that moment.

“Oh-”

That was it then, right? He had dragged you here, barely conversed with you, did not want to dance? So you might as well go home, right? No need to play the “got asked out as a dare and has to suffer through the even now, poor thing”-kid anymore.

Mikey watched as you picked up your empty glass, and started turning away.

“Do you want me to get you another drink,” he quickly offered, turning his body more into your direction.

“No thanks, I think I’m going home,” you replied without looking at him. Otherwise he would have seen the tears of hurt and frustration swimming in your eyes.

It felt as if Mikey had been thrown into an ice crusted river. All his senses went numb at once, the music got drowned out by the hammering of his heart, the only thing he saw clearly was you, walking away from him, tiny reflections of blue tinsel skipping over your bare shoulders, specks of light from the effect spotlights catching in your hair, a glimmer of blue and silver.

It took him almost an entire minute before Mikey was able to shake of the shock, and his feet followed the direction his heart was leading him in. He caught up with you just outside the doors of the gym, his hand unexpectedly wrapping around your wrist.

“I-”

He stared at you, and felt like he had been thrown into that river all over again, as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“It’s fine,” you told him, your voice cold, your eyes faking confidence, “you don’t have to go to a prom with someone if you don’t like ‘em. Go on, have fun with your friends.”

That you were not trying to pull your hand away from him, gave him the hope that you might not mean what you had said.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, talking suddenly seeming so much easier than it had all evening long. “I really wanted to come here with you, and then I got all nervous and shy, and I know you wanna dance, and I’d love to dance with you, but I suck at dancing, and I suck at small talk. And I’m already quiet at the best of times, but I like you so much, and it just makes me so much more nervous to talk. I get that you wanna go home, but I’d really like to give me a second-” he stopped. No. He had messed up. He needed to live with the consequences of that. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” he sadly hung his head, letting go of your hand. “It’s just pure selfishness of me asking you to stay. I just want to spend more time with you. But I can drive you home if you like.”

For a moment there was silence. From inside there was music blaring through the open door. You had heard what Mikey had said, all of it. And yet your mind was stuck on one phrase.

“You like me?”

Mikey looked at you unbelievingly.

“Of course I do! I’ve... I’ve liked you for a while now,” a blush was rising to his cheeks at the confession.

“But- I thought- your friends... didn’t they dare you to ask me out?”

“Dare?” Mikey’s voice had almost risen an octave at the shock. “They pushed me! Without their encouragement I would’ve never managed to ask you out.”

Again silence fell over the two of you, and Mikey already started wondering if he had said something wrong, when suddenly warm fingers closed around his.

“Let’s go back inside,” you decided, already heading towards the door, but Mikey stayed where he was.

“You don’t have to do that. If you want to go home, i can drive you home. Or call someone to come pick you up,” he offered.

Surprised you turned around to him.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you declared, your eyes no longer glittering with tears but something else. Excitement? “I wanna go back inside, and stand around awkwardly with you while searching for something to talk about, or have you stepping on my feet when I try to get you to dance with me.” You turned to face him and placed a hand on his chest. “I like you too, Mikey. And don’t you dare to think for a second you being shy would change anything about that.”

Your heart fluttered at the happy, slightly embarrassed smile that spread over Mikey’s face, along with a deep red blush. Quickly, before you could change your mind, you got on your tiptoes, and pressed your lips against his cheek. Mikey stared at you for a second, before bending down and kissing you too. On the mouth. It was a short kiss, but it still made your heart leap into your throat, and you found yourself looking at Mikey with the same surprise that was written all over his own face, as if he could not believe what he had just done.

You both broke into a broad grin at the same time, and wrapping his fingers tightly around yours, Mikey followed you back into the gym.

General: @robinruns @starduststyx  @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrostyslibrary @butterflycore​ @vamp-void​ @angelevansfalls​

MCR: @deadlovers​

Picture Sources 1, 2

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm

I’ve known exactly what I was doing for this prompt for a while, though it went in a bit of a different direction. Here’s day 22 of @drawlight‘s advent calendar, and yet another knife to the heart. Shout out to my cousin the herpetologist who has put up with some really weird questions from me the past few months.

22 - Warmth (3,170 words)

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think that a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He turned up the heat in his flat as high as it would go, until even his most tropical plants were struggling to meet his exacting expectations. He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He tried to sit up and engage his mind, especially at night, when his body screamed to just stretch out and rest. He got angry when he discovered he couldn’t concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts, and said some things to Aziraphale he really shouldn’t have.

Later, when the angel tried to embrace him and make up…he said some even worse things.

He tried wearing more layers. He tried wearing fewer layers. Eating hot food. Lying under a tree. Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their last argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the scarf he always wore. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the heat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, worried what he was about to say would make the angel pull away. “I…I don’t even know if I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No,” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Dinner time,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

[thechildoflightning]

Advent

Title: Advent

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

part of the jksf series

~~~

Prompt: 

Heyyy. For your oneshot thing, could you give us some Logan angst please??? Love you babey ~@justgr8

Summary: 

Tradition has always been vitally important to Logan. Routine keeps him balanced and feeling safe. But tradition can change. When treated carefully, and with communication, change to tradition can be navigated. It’s too bad that Logan’s family isn’t willing to put in that effort.

-

Or: Logan’s autistic. His family likes to ignore this fact.

Warnings: Ableism, Internalized Ableism, Meltdown, Breaking Traditions

[ao3 link]

~~~

Advent

It was Logan’s freshman year of high school when he realized that this was going to be the last time his family did advent box. It hit him hard, a striking dull pain in the middle of his stomach.

When he thought of Christmas, Logan didn’t just think of Christmas. No, Logan thought of each of the little traditions that followed the season. They had always been of importance to Logan. His family did them every year. It was tradition, it was routine, and Logan couldn’t break that. Or he couldn’t break it without having a meltdown, usually more than one. 

But as he and his sister had gotten older, most of the traditions had faded or bled away without much care and no one has seemed bothered by it. Accept Logan.

Advent box is one of the few things they had kept.

Every day, in the evening, they opened the box. It contained a chocolate or a small toy or something of equal value. It was silly and somewhat pointless and Logan didn’t quite get why he cared. But he did. He cared so much.

Which is why this year had to be perfect.

Veera was going off to college next year. Logan and her have always traded off days opening the box. Maybe they could continue when she was gone, with just Logan opening until she got back from break and then they could open them together?

Logan had thought about solutions and work-arounds and how to continue forward, but he doubted his parents would see it the same. So he tested his theory.

Off hand he mentioned something about advent box next year and then he watched for the signs.

His mom wouldn’t look at him. Odd, because she was always trying to get him to meet her eyes. She chuckled and gave him a non answer. Also odd because it was a simple remark that Logan had made. His father had patted him on the shoulder (which Logan didn’t like but was normal behavior from him) and then he had said “we’ll see,” which also didn’t make sense considering Logan hadn’t actually asked a question, just made a comment. It didn’t line up and Logan knew they were lying.

Or not lying exactly, but he gathered that it was very likely they would not be doing advent box next year. Hence the stabbing feeling in his stomach and also why this year had to be perfect.

Not all the boxes were opened on the right days. Logan thought that this would have bothered him if it wasn’t also routine for his family to forget or get busy on some nights.  But three days leading up to Christmas (the last day on the box) and they had six days to make up for. Which was a lot.

They decided to do it now, right now, as Logan was preparing himself breakfast in the morning. They usually did it in the evening and if he thought about that too much his hands start itching. Logan’s parents- who were also in the kitchen- insisted that he called down Veera. Logan gulped but nodded. It needed to be perfect and sure it was morning which wasn’t Right, but it was also Logan’s first weekday off from school and routine was already thrown to hell so what was one more thing?

Plus if they didn’t do it now they’d probably forget and they wouldn't do it tonight and then they’d fall more behind and wouldn’t get it done by Christmas. And true, why they had fallen behind before they had never actually failed to complete it. The burning sense of that Wrongness beat out the Wrongness of doing it in the morning, so Logan rushed over to the foot of the stairs.

“Veera!” he called up towards her, “Veera! Advent box!”

She didn’t respond. He frowned and tried again. Still no response.

He turned back to face the kitchen.

“Is Veera here?” he asked his parents.

“Yeah, and Caleb too,” his dad replied.

Logan frowned and called again. They’re was once more no response, though he could see the cracked door so if they were there they should be able to hear him. He looked over at the front door and checked the shoes. Caleb’s converse were there. (He had bigger feet than Logan and Veera and Logan’s parents didn’t wear converse so they were easy to distinguish).

He was about to shout once more when Caleb exited the room.

“Hey Logan,” he greeted, making eye-contact with Logan.

Logan looked down immediately and nodded.

“Hey,” Logan replied, “Veera coming?”

“Yeah, she’s trying to do this thing with her hair.”

“Okay,” Logan left the foot of the stairs and returned to the kitchen, leaving his sister’s boyfriend. Once he had entered the kitchen, he made his way to the advent box. It was an odd number day. That meant it was his turn today. 

He was vaguely aware of Caleb and his parents moving to join him around the box as he counted out everyday and tried to remember what had been in each box previous.

When he finished he turned to face them. Still no Veera.

“It’s your day Logan,” his mother said, “Why don’t you open it?”

“I know it’s my day, it’s an odd day,” Logan said, “And I’m waiting for Veera, we can’t start without her.”

Everyone had to be there for advent box. It was a rule.

“Logan why don’t you just-”

Logan’s mother was cut off by his sister appearing in the kitchen and sliding over to join them.

“I’m opening it,” he announced, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He opened it to reveal a paper. The paper had a brand name on it, which meant that it was a toy, but had been too big to fit in the box. He held up the paper expectantly towards his mom, but didn’t turn to face her.

“There’s a paper.”

He saw her nod out of peripheral vision and she turned to get whatever the toy was. She handed the bag over to Logan first. That was also tradition. Logan was the one who had opened the door so he got first pick. Whoever opened the door got to choose first. It was a rule.

Logan peered inside to see sticky hands. He wondered briefly how they had not fit, considering they were quite small. They should have been able to fit in the box. He picked at one and realized it was due to the packaging. It was unnecessarily large, and his mom probably hadn’t wanted to unpack them for fear of losing their stickiness.

“What is it Logan?” his sister asked, and Logan recognized the impatience at her voice. 

Still considering the packaging dilemma, Logan held one up to show her. 

“Oh cool,” she said. 

Logan thought that was funny. Usually she’d make fun of childish stuff like this. But advent box always had this sort of stuff and it was also tradition to not care how silly it was. It was sort of backwards but it also meant that his family wouldn’t be mean to him about liking childish things, so Logan was okay with it.

He laughed a bit though, because it was funny.

His sister scowled at him and snatched the bag from him. He let her. It didn’t matter anymore. He had his sticky hand. She passed the bag around as he slowly unwrapped his own. It plopped into his hand and it felt horrible. Logan immediately dropped it.

“Logan, don’t let it fall on the floor, it’ll get dirt on it,” his mother chided.

Logan struggled to process her words for a minute. His hands still felt gross. He wanted to move them, to get the feeling off. He wasn’t supposed to flap them though. But maybe just once? It wasn’t like he was flapping them for a bad reason, he just wanted to get the sticky feeling off of it.

He flapped the hand that it had touched and then slid the hand against his pants, hoping his parents wouldn’t notice. He thought his mom was maybe watching him, so he put his hand in his pocket. With his other he was forced to pick up the sticky hand again. His mom had told him to, and she wouldn’t take nicely to Logan ignoring or refusing her.

So he picked it up, holding it as lightly as he could with the least amount of his skin touching it. He tried not to wince. His mom turned away and unwrapped her own sticky hand. 

In response, Veera shot her sticky hand towards her mom. Mom threw hers at Veera in return and then chaos broke loose. The four other members in the house started darting around the kitchen trying to hit each other with the sticky hands. Logan watched them and rocked forward on his feet.

Even Caleb- who was still hesitant to join in a lot of the family interactions- was participating. A moment later they died down a bit and came back over to the advent box, still flinging their hands gently at one another.

Then Veera flung hers at Logan.

It hit his clothes thankfully. Logan didn’t know what he’d do if it hit his skin. Probably scream, and he didn’t think his family would like that very much. He grinned a bit, because Veera seemed to be playful and it wasn’t all that common that she was nice to him. In fact, usually she was quite mean, snapping at him and making rude comments. His parents said that it was college stress and Logan was over exaggerating. Sometimes they even said it was Logan’s fault.

But she seemed happy now. Logan, not wanting to miss out on the rare opportunity, flung his sticky hand back. 

It hit Veera’s hair.

She immediately screeched and wrenched away.

“Logan!” she said, “You’re going to mess up my hair! Don’t do that!”

Logan shrugged and turned to hit Caleb instead. Caleb was looking at him and didn’t react to the sticky hand. Logan frowned and looked back over to his sister. She was glaring at him and desperately messing with her hair.

“Oh, I’m really sorry Veera,” he said, “I didn’t mean to mess up your hair. I won’t do it again.”

She continued to glare and Logan realized his parents were too. He couldn’t help but feel he did something very wrong. He set the hand down. He didn’t think his mom would complain if he chose not to participate andymore. 

Caleb kissed Veera’s cheek and whispered in her ear. She sighed and continued to scowl, but stopped messing with her hair. She seemed okay now. Logan thought so at least.

“It’s your turn to open advent box,” he said.

“Logan you can’t just hit people in the face.”

Logan knew that. Of course he knew that. It’s not like he had been trying to. Plus he had hit her hair anyway. He got that that wasn’t okay, but he hadn’t meant to.

“Everyone was throwing the hands around,” Logan said in an attempt to explain. Everyone was throwing them around. They weren’t very accurate. One was bound to hit someone in the face eventually. It just happened to Veera by Logan’s hand. It wasn’t on purpose and Logan knew it wasn’t okay. He had apologized. “It’s your turn to open up advent box.”

Veera scowled and pushed forward, opening the box. It was chocolate in it. Logan quietly took one from her when she offered them forward. He unwrapped it and ate it and watched the others around him do so as well.

Logan still hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was in the middle of making his when they started. His skin itched.

It was Logan’s turn. He opened it. It was also chocolates. He pocketed his this time and passed the rest out. As he was doing so, another mini fight with the sticky hands broke out.

“It’s your turn Veera,” he mentioned. 

She sighed, stopped her fighting, and pushed forward. She opened the box and then moved back without glancing inside. Caleb whacked her with his sticky hand. She laughed and tried to whack him back but hit dad instead. Seconds later and they were racing around the kitchen once more, having fun.

Logan smiled at them and didn’t join in. They seemed to be having fun. He’d probably ruin it.

He looked in the open box and pulled out a couple of pull back race cars. They were tiny and cheap and they were in advent box every year. Logan sat them down. 

Since it was Veera’s turn, she got to choose first. But she was playing and having fun and his whole family seemed to be enjoying themselves, so Logan let her be. She could choose the one she wanted in a minute, that was fine. Logan could wait.

“Hey Lo,” Veera called, “Go ahead and open the next box!”

Logan froze.

He couldn’t do that. Veera hadn’t chosen which car she wanted yet. She had to choose first before moving on to the next box.

“You need to pick which car you want first,” Logan called back.

“I will in a minute, just open the new box,” Veera said.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Logn replied. Because he didn’t. That’s why the rule was in place. It let the person who opened it choose first, which was polite. Logan sometimes struggled to know what was polite and what wasn’t, and his family often got upset with him about that. But this was an established rule that Logan knew was polite. He could at least follow that.

Being rude was mean and Logan didn’t want to be mean. So he’d wait for Veera.

“Just open the stupid box,” Veera said, coming back over to the advent box.

“Choose a car first.”

“Just take one Logan,” she huffed.

“You’re supposed to choose first,” Logan said, because that was a rule.

“Gosh,” she huffed, “See this is why I hate doing things with you. This is why nobody likes you Logan. You’re making this into such a big thing it doesn’t even matter.”

“I’m j-”

“Here, whatever, I’’l take the blue one you can have the green. Let’s move on now, come on. Open the new box, god Logan.”

Everything was going to fast. Logan stood, blinking for a moment as he tried to process her words.

Logan’s parents stepped forward, recognizing the increasing tension in the room.

“What’s going on here?” his dad asked.

“Logan’s making a big deal out of nothing,” Veera said, rolling her eyes. She stepped towards Dad, “Logan wouldn’t open the new one until I had chosen which car I wanted. Which is just-” she huffed, “So I chose one but he’s still not opening the box.”

His parent frowned.

His mother spoke, “Logan why don’t-”

“I wasn’t trying to not open the box!” Logan protested, finally finding his words. Veera was making him the enemy again and maybe if he could just explain… Because he wasn’t being bad, he wasn’t! But they were frowning at him like he had been but really he was just trying to be polite like they wanted him to be.

“Logan-”

“Veera opened the box with the cars. And if you open the box you pick first. That’s the rule. It’s polite. We do it so we’re not mean. And I’ll open the box now in just a minute- I just wanted to clarify what I was doing. I wasn’t trying to make it a big deal, I-”

“God Logan,” Veera huffed.

“Logan why don’t you just open the box. You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved.”

How was this Logan’s fault? Everything was moving too fast. He didn’t know how to keep up.

Logan’s eyes felt strange and his whole body itched and he could still feel the sticky residue on his hand. He wanted to flap his hands and get it off. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

His parents wouldn’t be happy if he did those things.

He looked at the advent box. He wanted this to be perfect. It was the last year.

(That felt so Wrong).

Logan felt worse. He frowned, looked down at his feet, and with the little energy he had left, he exited the room. 

(Better to leave now with his family just a little upset than to have a meltdown in front of them, causing them to be extremely angry with him).

He could vaguely hear Veera’s complaints behind him.

When he got to his room he threw the stupid pullback car that was still in his hand at the wall. Once he had done that- and kicked his desk for good measure- he immediately got into his bed and cuddled the blankets around him. They were the thickest ones he had. Then, he opened his mouth and shoved a pillow in it.

He began to scream as loudly as he dared, muffled by the pillow. He cried too. He cried a lot.

His brain waged war with him, outlining everything that was Wrong and it all felt off and Logan was falling to pieces and nothing felt right and Logan didn’t know how to fix it.

He wondered if this was his fault. 

He had probably done something wrong again, broken another rule.

But he was too tired to think about that and his brain didn’t like him right now so he screamed and cried and bashed his hands against the wall.

(He made sure to stay quiet enough that the rest of his family wouldn’t hear him, even though that made his body itch unpleasantly).

Eventually, he tired himself out and stopped crying. He was exhausted. His brain had trouble thinking and connecting and his eyes grew heavy even as he kept crying, pitiful whimpers interrupting the tears every so often. He felt himself starting to nod off.

The last thing Logan heard before he fell asleep was his family laughing the other room, presumably playing with the sticky hands once more. Enjoying themselves. Without Logan.

That was also a tradition, his family only enjoying Family Time without him. And he hated how that felt Right.

~

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@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti​ @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo

[roadsterguysblog]

Dear Yuletide Author

You are amazing, and thank you so much for this!

I have details for each specific request below the general things.  So, General Things:

My prompts are just that, prompts to get your brain spinning.  If you have a great idea for a fic that isn’t on the prompts, or one of them sends you off on a tangent, write that!  The best fics come from what moves the author.

For general guidelines, though - I love plot.  I love something interesting and canonical going on that I can really sink my teeth into.  If you write that, and you’re not into slash/ship, then that is amazing and makes my Yule.  I love writing that fills in the world of these wonderful fandoms.  There’s nothing better than a little line or unexpected note that answers a question that canon didn’t - what’s the bathroom like?  What do they drink in the morning?  How do they get the news? 

I like first-time fic.  I love a lot of UST and slow burn and people unable to just say what they’re feeling, until something happens and it does.

I’m a physical H/C FIEND.  I love some nice bloody hurt and some nice stoic comfort. I love that combined with the above.

I love a crusty old bastard with a heart of gold.  Even if they happen to be young (a young person can pull off a Crusty Old Bastard if they put the work into it).  It’s my kink.

I love explicit, in-character sex.  If you’re feeling sex, bring that on!  Bring on every bit of sex, good and bad - teeth bumping, coming too fast because this has been such a long burn, santorum, sweat and hot kisses and oral leading to anal or whatever.  Bring it on.

XCOM: Enemy Unknown/Enemy Within (Video Game) 

I came to this game as an old-school player of XCom:UFO Defense. I really love the narrative additions that they made, and particularly Bradford as a character. I found Zhang and Durand to be great additions to this game too! I particularly love Durand's dialog on missions. She's such a goofy deadly little kid. I like the vague hints at Zhang's past, and would really love to explore that more.

I couldn't choose 'all of XCom' as a fandom, so I chose EW. My 'stretch' ask, then, is for some inclusion of the Legacy missions, XCom 2, and/or War of the Chosen with Zhang/Bradford slash - I love the development of XCom as a guerilla group, I love the classes (particularly Rangers!). I love that Bradford was a Ranger and that he fought as one in Legacy and 2. I'd love to see where Zhang was in 2, maybe even a reunion after the events of 2 and before/during Chimera Squad.

If you're looking to write just EW, that would be fantastic too! I'd very much like some in-EW Bradford/Zhang slash. I'm not one for PWP; I love a good juicy narrative. I love the canon, as discussed above, and would really like a fic that builds off of canon. And there's so much! The downtime between missions and the rapid gear-up for them. Bradford trying to figure out anything about Zhang. Zhang and Durand training - Zhang has the experience killing people but no experience with psionic powers, while powers and fighting are both new to Durand, so there's a lot of possibility there. In-mission and/or post-mission fic. Fic during/after the Base Invasion or the Final Mission. Testing out stuff that Shen is making. Being tested by Vahlen. Or anything else you want to explore!

If you're not into slash, that would be fantastic too! I love a good juicy genfic with a lot of great narrative. All of the stuff I mentioned above! If you want to write a fic from the PoV of some random soldier, that'd be delightful too! Or any canon exploration/gapfiller that grabs you that you want to write!

Do Not Want: Durand/Bradford shipping. I just don't see them as a couple at all and the age difference wigs me. I'm fine with them interacting; in fact, one of the things I love about Durand is how much of an Excited Little Kid she is on the missions! So an older battle-hardened dude helping settle her down and give some guidance would be a nice plotline, and platonic affection would be totally good. Ditto Durand/Zhang - platonic relationship is great, just not romantic/sexual.

Too much Commander. I realize that's a little vague, but since the Commander is the headspace of the player, having too much of their thoughts might pull me out? I'm fully there with the Commander being present to direct missions, chatting around with people, being supportive of characters during the fic, serving as Commander Ex Machina to move the plot along, things like that.

Scat/piss play (I'm fine with playing with the blood (human and/or alien) and sweat of battle as being either potentially sexy or a strange counterpoint to sexiness)

Out-of-character-ness

Homophobia/transphobia/racism by the main characters. As a gay trans dude, I am very down with any of them being gay/trans/queer/etc and experiencing it, and I'm even OK if they accidentally find that some of their activities are - but just no overt, knowing bigotry. (Bradford does have xenophobic tendencies, and I'd actually find that a cool angle to explore, as I think he's a fundamentally decent guy who's had a fuck of a time and suffers from some degree of toxic masculinity.)

XCOM 2 (Video Game)

I came to this game as an old-school player of XCom:UFO Defense. I really love the narrative additions that they made, and particularly Bradford as a character. I love the world of XCom2 - they do such a wonderful job of building Advent's Stepford Cities, the scattered resistance havens, XCom as a guerilla group, the Speaker, the various aliens, the Chosen, the classes of warriors, Lily Shen's badassery, Dr Tygan's smooth stoicism, Advent Burgers (ARE PEOPLE!) - all of it!

I couldn't choose 'all of XCom' as a fandom, so I chose XCom2. My 'stretch' ask, then, is for inclusion of some EW plotlines - particularly Zhang, because I loved him as a character. I love me some Braford/Zhang slash, so if you want to pull him in - see what he was doing in parallel at the time, or reunion after 2/during Chimera Squad - I would be just delighted.

If you're not into writing that or didn't play EW, an XCom2 fic would be fantastic! I loved Legacy, I loved 2 (with the missions Shen and Bradford do), I loved WotC. There's so much there! I love that Bradford was a Ranger (I'd be delighted for fics of him getting down and dirty and bloody with a sword), I loved that Tygan had a Thing for Advent Burgers, I loved that Bradford got mad that the wrappers kept getting left around. I loved that Shen and Tygan kept giving Bradford shit for his flying. I think it's interesting that Bradford turned alcoholic after the base invasion, and I'd be interested in explorations of that, and if he started to get control of it when the Avenger took off and things started to go well. I love the Skirmishers, I love Mox - I'd love some more of their backstory, and/or how things go for them after the events of the game. (Generally, any Adaption To Civilian Life And Living Amongst The Aliens sort of fic really tickles me). If you want to write a fic from the PoV of some random soldier, that'd be delightful too! Or even the PoV of a young civilian who has known nothing but Advent and slowly realizes what's going on. Basically, anything that fleshes out/extends/expands the wonderful rich canon of this game.

Do Not Want: Shen/Bradford shipping. I love love love them as a Surly Old Loving Dad and Spunky Smart Loving Kid, so I love that dynamic, and would love to read some of them awkwardly expressing their mutual affection on that level, but just no to romance or sex.

Too much Commander. I realize that's a little vague, but since the Commander is the headspace of the player, having too much of their thoughts might pull me out? I'm fully there with the Commander being present to direct missions, chatting around with people, being supportive of characters during the fic, serving as Commander Ex Machina to move the plot along, things like that.

Scat/piss play (I'm fine with playing with the blood (human and/or alien) and sweat of battle as being either potentially sexy or a strange counterpoint to sexiness)

Out-of-character-ness

Homophobia/transphobia/racism by the main characters. As a gay trans dude, I am very down with any of them being gay/trans/queer/etc and experiencing it, and I'm even OK if they accidentally find that some of their activities are - but just no overt, knowing bigotry. (Bradford does have xenophobic tendencies, and I'd actually find that a cool angle to explore, as I think he's a fundamentally decent guy who's had a fuck of a time and suffers from some degree of toxic masculinity.)

Ship Series - Anne McCaffrey

What can I say, I'm a Helva/Niall shipper. That being said, I think there's a lot that's dysfunctional about their relationship. The way chastity is valued so highly, the way that she thinks of herself as a chaste armored Valkyrie (the armor protecting her equally from both sex and physical harm). The awkwardness around any thought of physical contact - and yes, it's dangerous for her to be outside of the shell, but there are so many workarounds. Her shell is wired for sensation, after all, there's no reason that creative ways to make love to a ship couldn't be played with. And they never do anything around physical intimacy with their mental connection, even though it's explicitly written that Helva can sense what Niall does.

I'm also very skeeved by the way she turns off his hologram after he's dead. The hologram seems to have some degree of independent thought, the way it's written. Is it a sentient AI, perhaps? Or did he fully transfer to her subconscious after his body died, and this is his way of having some consciousness? None of these issues were explored, and I'd be delighted if you want to give them a go.

I'm also totally down with fics that don't go into the side of things I laid out above. I'd be delighted for mission fics, gapfillers, fics where they have to deal with Central Command. Action and adventure!

I'd love fics that explore some of the issues of toxic straight culture and toxic masculinity. These characters are great and interesting and flawed, and I love fics that acknowledge and embrace the flaws.

Also, I'm fully down with Niall being written as trans and/or bi/pan, if that strikes your fancy (and if you want to put that into the She Can Sense What He Does context). I know he's represented as being with women a lot, but I'd love a subversion of that as being down to some toxic straight culture (already abundant evidence for that in canon!) and/or overcompensation for being the butt of the flavor of toxic masculinity that considers short stature to be a deficit in men.

Do not want: True downplaying of short guys. Niall is sensitive about being tinchy, but I don't want that written as something that's actually, objectively wrong with him. As a short trans guy, I'm on board with him expressing that insecurity, I'm fine with stories playing with that insecurity, I'd awfully like a fic where the insecurity is helped to some extent.

Scat/piss play

Out-of-character-ness

Lucky Starr - Isaac Asimov

What can I say? Never has 1950s sensibility lead to a more homoerotic set of stories!

That being said, I also love how scientifically based it is. That's what I want from this fandom - a true Lucky Starr fic that is solidly grounded in some real science, and has some of the real science come back as part of the Twist Ending. If you want to put some explicit Lucky/Bigman slash in there, I'd be delighted. But if you don't, a gen Lucky Starr story is already pretty damn slashy to me. :)

I love the whole world. I love the Sirians and all of the biological 'lessons' their perceived but not-actual superiority could represent. I love Sten insulting Bigman and Bigman getting his own. I'd love more exploration of Sten's comment about Lucky making an excellent Sirian.

I'd be delighted with a fic that explores the paucity of females in-universe, particularly in positions of leadership. Ditto a fic that explores how white and US/European the culture is.

I particularly love the Bigman/Yonge friendship. Although Yonge is technically the Ideal Tall Strong Man, he'd be a little at sea now that he's left Sirius - he doesn't know the society, the norms, the conventions. I'd love to explore their friendship a little more, with Yonge getting over all he's been indoctrinated to believe about Sirian Superiority. Particularly since that gets at a very valid biological point, to tie into the scientific underpinnings of Lucky Starr episodes!

If you want to write either Yonge, Bigman, or both as gay, I'd find that an interesting fic for sure! Although my preference is Lucky/Bigman, I'm interested in a Bigman/Yonge, especially if it leads to Lucky/Bigman. :)

If you want to write Bigman as trans, I'm totally down with that.

Do not want: True downplaying of short guys. I know there's a fair bit of that in canon, beyond just Bigman's sensitivity about it, but I don't want that written as something that's actually, objectively wrong with him. As a short trans guy, I'm on board with him expressing that insecurity, I'm fine with stories playing with that insecurity, I'd awfully like a fic where the insecurity is helped to some extent. I'm fine with canon-level teasing of him about it, but always in the context of Lucky genuinely caring for him and him bringing real value to Lucky's work.

Scat/piss play

Out-of-character-ness

Homophobia/transphobia/racism by the main characters. As a gay trans dude, I am very down with any of them being gay/trans/queer/etc and experiencing it, and even if they accidentally find that some of their activities are, but just no overt, knowing bigotry.

[eturni]

Day 25 - Love

It’s day 25 of @drawlight​‘s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today is Love.

I may have gone a little sideways in terms of specifically seasonal prompts and a lot of this is more an abstract meandering because, among other things, love can most definitely be a community of people who find beauty in stories and words and images and who use what free time and talent and heart they have to reach out to each other. For the most part this whole fandom is light and love and just wanting two disaster idiots to be happy. We found a love story that’s a call to arms: Be Kind To Each Other. I hope next year we’re even better at it than we have been this year.

The funny thing about love is that it comes in a hundred different ways and a million different forms.

Sometimes it’s an Alright, just this once.

Sometimes it’s I can’t do that. It would destroy you.

At other times it’s offering an olive branch while begging for more time, or setting up shop a 10 minute walk away from an enemy you could be half a world away from.

It’s oysters and making time and soft words and worried glances and knowing a person so well that you do before they ever think to ask.

It’s toasting to the world when your entire world is sat right next to you.

What love also is, is the bits of learning that happen slowly once things are finally out in the open and can be expressed and known.

For some this is the more difficult bit. Actual, straight forward words are difficult after six millennia of forced innuendo and carefully measured gestures.

The midwinter celebrations following Armagedidn’t are almost easier in this way. There’s a sense that it’s normal for them to be a little more affectionate. A little more vocal.

In the first year after the Apocalypse love is still coming in fits and starts. It still happens around nervous gestures and uncertain looks over the shoulder.

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52410544 or:

In the first year love is still the careful placing of mistletoe: as though it could ward the shop from the places that could have, should have, loved Crowley and Aziraphale, and instead turned their backs on them and branded them traitors.

Love is supposed to come from those who made you. In the case of demons, and a fair number of humans, this unconditional love was not the reality. In the case of Aziraphale it was not the idea that he was not loved but the harsh realisation that his own love for the humans was indeed unconditional and that this was not what angels were in fact expected to practise.

So they create wards and hand talismans and follow traditions and there is something of comfort in the light of a Menorah, the warmth of a Yule log fire, the memories captured in blown glass and glittering tinsel.

There is comfort in these old traditions and they wrap themselves in them like a blanket, holding hands underneath and whispering things into the darkness of the longest night that feel too fragile to say in the light of day.

“I thought I lost you angel, and I don’t know what I’d do. You’ve always just been there y’know?”

A hand reaches and brushes fingers through fine firelight hair. “I’m sorry. From now on it’s our side, I swear.”

Crowley shakes his head regardless, throat thick with words he still doesn’t know how to say. “No, when it was burning. I thought it was hellfire. Thought- ‘M sorry too, about the holy water. I know what you meant. I never wanted it for that but I know what you meant.”

Aziraphale’s answering smile is an uncertain line painted in a trembling hand but it’s loving and real in the firelight. “Yes. I couldn’t think of a world with you destroyed either.” He admits quietly.

It’s as close as they get, that year, to the words that they want. But love is patient and it hopes and perseveres. It is also many things and many forms The words wait for another year.

Crowley had felt every second as the love he was built with was ripped from his chest. Felt himself sundered from the host that had been a continuous echo chamber in his ethereal core. Then the garden. Once again he had known love, of a type. He hadn’t the words then but the song bubbled in his chest and at his lips. It was strange and new, and for millennia he hadn’t felt it returned even as it grew and changed in his chest

Love is a funny thing. It doesn’t always come back to you from the people it should. It doesn’t always manifest for the people or in the ways it should. It does, however, always find it’s way in in one form or another. Only so long as space is left.

By the second year of a post apocalyptic world words have had time to become difficult. The gestures are always there, as they always have been, but more frequent and more open. I’m here for you. Anything. You can come to me with anything. Picnics, the Ritz, a last minute rescue: I’ll remember your plants like you remembered my books. The Word for love, though, is still difficult even with all of the gestures there.

Communication has never been their strong point. Everything understood below the surface in things they cannot ever say. Things they missed because they were supposed to just know somehow.

Love, more often than not, is a thing that you choose. It’s the thing that’s found and cobbled together, and it’s made into a better one even than you thought you deserved. It’s found family and learned self care, and it’s our side.

But Love is still something that Crowley learned to grab at and store up for the lean months; so it only makes sense to him to continue. To never push and accept only what was given to safely tuck into his aching chest. There is more of it by the second year but it’s still difficult.

Midwinter had always been a tricky time. The human psyche seemed designed equal parts to pull together and to backstab each other. The leanness of the season brought stress and anger but also brought humans to their best when they truly chose love

Aziraphale and Crowley had been using it as a way to choose kindness (perhaps, choose love) for millennia. Ever since their first truce with mistletoe it had been easier to settle in each other’s company and set aside the usual judgements over midwinter. Humans rarely needed much nudging to either side of good or bad anyway.

In the second year they trim up and there is no mistletoe on the wreath on the door. None directly inside or sheltered in the window.

“You giving it a miss this year? Suppose we don’t really need it on our side.” Crowley finally finds the place in him to ask. Straight forward question, really. It just makes him nervous that they’re missing a tradition, especially given that Aziraphale was usually all too happy to continue with all of his comfortable behaviours (and clothes, and things) well outside of what was fashionable for comfort’s sake alone.

“Not quite,” Aziraphale smiles, looking smug enough that Crowley feels a thrill rush through him at what the bastard might have potentially done “just relocated it my dear.”

Aziraphale looks up. Crowley knows what he’ll find but he looks up too; feeling the heat of a blush even with just less than a year of kisses behind them. “I mean come on angel. It’s not like we’ve never-”

“Well no,-” Aziraphale allows with the slightest tilt of his head and a sigh that tells Crowley that this is another thing that he should be understanding without the words. “I suppose that I just thought it was a lovely alternative to the tradition that I would like to try with you.”

Crowley blinks, uncertain about the odd sense of formality that it brought to actually turn up with mistletoe for kissing.

With no other answer Aziraphale reaches out and carefully cups Crowley’s cheek. “May I?” He prompts.

There shouldn’t be nerves. There still are, but Crowley tells them where to stick it and leans in regardless. He had sworn on more than one occasion to commit every moment of Aziraphale to memory and to never waste an opportunity. He isn’t about to start here.

Their lips meet under the mistletoe and there is, in fact, something quite novel in the whole thing that leaves him smiling against Aziraphale’s lips even as his tongue tries to work his way in. There are hands on his body, moving a slow searching shift of his torso. His own go to press at the back of Aziraphale’s neck and his waist to keep him held fast.

When they part Aziraphale is still holding Crowley and the demon can feel the clear imprint of every single finger against the back of his waist as he’s held, secured and cared for. He feels Aziraphale pull away and feels his unnecessary breath go with him. Being pulled out of him in an “I love you.” That he hadn’t meant to say but would never want to take back.

There’s a moment that he looks like he might; mouth dropping open and closed. He feels Aziraphale’s hands tighten reflexively; sees the worry in his angel’s eyes, and strangles any denial that might have been trying to climb his throat.

The set of Aziraphale’s shoulder relaxes and he lets out a breath of air that sounds almost thankful, if a single huff could convey that. “I’m rather glad, Crowley. I love you too, and it would be a terrible shame if it was all to waste. I would very much like to love you until the next Armageddon. After that, if it could at all be arranged.”

It was the first time Crowley considered singing for his angel, to open up fully to him. He didn’t sing. That wouldn’t happen for another few years yet, but that was okay. Love lives and grows wherever it is nurtured, and it’s languages are many.

[notfunnydean]

SPN Advent Calendar - Day 11

The Tangerine Bear

Day: 11 Giftee: @iashstuff-blog​ Prompt: Christmas Story Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: sad!Cas, sad!Dean Word Count: 1.247 Summary: Since Castiel is human a lot of things changed. Dean seems to be constantly annoyed with him and one day he takes it too far. Luckily enough he also knows how to make everything better again. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760855

“Oh no!”

Castiel looks down at the shards on the ground, that was once a mug, that Dean really liked. Castiel had just wanted to make Dean some coffee and instead he destroyed the mug Sammy had given him for his birthday.

“Cas?”

Of course Dean heard that. Castiel hastily bends down and tries to at least clean up his mess, when Dean opens the door to the kitchen. He seems worried, but his face changes when he sees what Castiel did.

“Dean- I didn’t mean to.” Castiel tries at least to apologize, but the older Winchester seems already annoyed, his mouth only a thin line. Since Castiel is human, he doesn’t really know what Dean feels.

As an angel, he had always known, he had felt it himself. Now it only remains for him to guess the mood.

“It’s fine.” Dean finally says, before he walks over to one of the cupboards. He is probably looking for a dustpan and the brush. Castiel never really remembers what to do in certain situations. He sucks as a human.

“I just wanted to make you coffee.” Castiel whispers quietly, he doesn’t even know if Dean hears it. Dean had spent his day researching with Sam. They both wouldn’t tell Castiel much about the hunt. They rarely do anymore.

He feels more like their housemaid like this, but as it seems he doesn’t think he can do this ‘easy’ job. Castiel tries very hard to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyelids. 

Dean walks back over, brush in his hand, and starts to sweep the shards into one heap. Castiel reaches out for the shards and one cuts his finger. Castiel grunts and looks down at his finger. It’s bleeding.

“Dammit Cas!” Dean curses and he helps Castiel up, before he pushes him on a stool. Castiel continues to stare at his blood, while Dean gets their first-aid kit. It doesn’t really hurt that much, but Castiel knows that Dean will fuss over him now.

“It’s okay.” Castiel says, when Dean comes back, but the hunter is having none of it, he just grabs Castiel’s hand and starts to clean the finger. Castiel almost growls. 

“It’s not okay, Cas, and we both know it.” Dean answers and this time he is angry. Castiel wants to leave it at that, but Dean takes a deep breath.

“How do you even manage to fuck a cup of coffee?” Dean asks and Castiel gets up. Dean hisses a bit, when Castiel pulls his hand away. The wound is clean, but still not bandaged, but Castiel doesn’t care about that.

“It was an accident!” Castiel says and Dean snorts.

“Like the nasty wound you got from that ghost a month ago?” Dean wants to know and he sounds challenging. Castiel shrugs, angry himself.

“Is that why you never take me on a hunt anymore? Because I’m too stupid? Because I’m not enough when I’m not an angel?” Castiel knows that he is getting louder and apparently that is enough for Dean.

The hunter snaps his mouth shut and glares at Castiel. He already knows what comes next, it doesn’t make it easier.

“Yes! You know you can barely handle being human! Two weeks ago you asked me why you’d need to drink water! Try at least to act normal!” 

It’s quiet after Dean’s outburst. Castiel just turns around and leaves. He knows when he is not needed.

*

It’s almost ten when someone knocks on Castiel’s door. A while ago he would’ve known who was  waiting at the other side of the door. Now he guesses it’s Sam. Dean never comes to him after a fight. He loves to sulk and apologizes the next day.

“Come in.” Castiel says. He is sitting on his bed, in warm pajama pants and reads a book. At least one good thing about being human. He has time.

“Hey Cas.”

It’s Dean.

Castiel wants to tell him to leave him alone, but Dean looks extremely sad and uncomfortable. Castiel tries to smile but it doesn’t work. 

“Hey, uhm… I… Can I sit down?” Dean whispers and Castiel nods before he even thinks about it. Dean walks over to him and Castiel realizes that Dean holds something behind his back, Castiel can’t even see it when Dean sits down opposite from him.

“What do you want?” Castiel asks and yes he sounds a bit snappy.

“I have something for you.” Dean says and now he holds out his hands to Castiel. At first he isn’t sure what that means, because Dean holds up a teddy bear to him. Castiel wants to reach out, but he doesn’t. 

Does Dean want Castiel to cuddle his teddy bear to feel better? Isn’t that what human kids do?

“I don’t think I understand.” Castiel admits and he shrugs. Another thing about humans, that he doesn’t understand. No real surprise.

“When I was little my mum bought it for me and she always told me this Christmas story. It’s to this day my favorite one.” Dean explains and Castiel is still not sure what this is all about, but it really looks as if this is something important to Dean. So he’d listen.

“Tell me the story?” Castiel whispers and Dean nods, before he crawls over the bed and sits down next to Castiel at the headboard. Castiel takes the teddy, when Dean holds him out again. He is warm and soft.

“It’s a story about the tangerine bear. He has his mouth sewn upside down, so he looks as if he is frowning.” Dean says and points at the mouth. Castiel holds the teddy up and sees that Dean is right. Castiel tilts his head, frowning himself at that, and Dean laughs.

“What happens to him?” Castiel asks, because he is sure that it’s a sad story. Dean smiles.

“Nobody wants to buy him for Christmas, but then he finds himself in a cute little store where every toy is kinda different and he realizes along the way that he isn’t broken. He is different and that’s okay and… if other people don’t understand that, then that’s their problem and not his.” Dean explains quietly. 

Castiel isn’t sure what to say, because Dean is wiping over his eyes.

“I didn’t have any friends when I was in kindergarten and I always… I hoped to find my own home, just like the tangerine bear. Where we all would be weird.” Dean says and when he looks up his green eyes are wet.

He looks beautiful.

“Dean…”

“No Cas. I’m sorry. I know you aren’t the ‘normal’ human and I’m glad you aren’t. It’s okay to be weird, hell I love it when you get excited over bees. You know that I’m pretty idiotic myself, so… I just… I never take you on hunts because I’m worried. I don’t wanna lose you.” Dean admits and Castiel has to smile at that.

“You are weird.” Castiel answers and snorts.

“Seriously. I would never… hurt you on purpose, I’m just an idiot and I hope you can forgive me someday.” Dean whispers. Castiel kisses his cheek and presses the teddy, back in Dean’s arms. 

Dean blushes badly and Castiel snickers, before they both lay down on the bed. Dean still holding the teddy and Castiel has to say he loves the little frown.

He pulls Dean against himself and cuddles him. It feels just as good as the teddy and he thinks that is now his favorite Christmas story.

[pixiealtaira]

Becoming We

Hummel Holidays prompt 15 - traditions

Pairing- Kadam.

Summery: Kurt wants this relationship to last.

Adam considered laughing when Kurt sat him down in September for the first annual “Hummel and Crawford” relationship maintenance and planning meeting.

Until Kurt spoke about it, then Adam smiled and kissed him on the top of his head and asked when Kurt would like to have it.  How could he have any other reaction after “I think I love you and I want this to last a long time and one of the most dangerous things about relationships is navigating expectations, especially around holidays. I need this, Adam.  I need to know what is important to you and you should know what is important to me. I don’t want to mess up.”

Kurt chose a Sunday Morning over a huge meal.  Kurt had spent the night and got up early and when Adam got out the table was covered with food…and notebooks and calendars and pencils and boxes of tissues.

“I guess mostly we need to talk about holidays and traditions,” Kurt started out. “I mean, if we ever moved in together, we’d have to have one to set household rules.  So maybe we should have relationship house rule rules?”

“Like what?”

“Hmm…well, at home they were things like ‘if you break it you replace it or at least tell someone about it and work it off’ and ‘chores done before 10pm, unless a reason is already noted on the calendar or you don’t get paid’. Not sassing too much and no name calling too much and don’t throw things at each other and no pushing, hitting, kicking, shoving or biting.  We didn’t start with no biting but Finn bit me when I told him Rachel was a banshee and not allowed to haunt near my room because he couldn’t kick me anymore.  I bit him back. I left deeper marks.  Curfews and things like that.”

“I thought you became family when you were already 17?” Adam asked.

“We were seniors when that happened.” Kurt replied. “I can’t explain it.  Finn made me revert back to being three…maybe even two.  Don’t relationships need rules?”

“Well, maybe we could set some….like, If you are running late you should call and tell the other that you are if it will be over 15 minutes.” Adam said. “That way I wouldn’t worry you and you wouldn’t worry me.”

Kurt smiled and relaxed a little in his seat.  “And we should decide how to do clean up for dinner.  I mean, I feel bad not helping.”

“How about the cook does dishes but the guest can set and clear the table?” Adam said.

Kurt beamed.

“Do we need more of those yet?” Kurt asked.

“If we realize we do, we can remember to talk to each other and make a list.” Adam said.

Kurt beamed.

“I guess that brings us to Holidays.  What do you celebrate and what has to be done?”

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

“What would you like to do for Valentine’s Day?” Kurt asked.

“Spend some of it with the one I love.” Adam said.

“What type of gift do you need?  Chocolates? Flowers? And outfit? Dinner out someplace where meals cost more than 50 bucks and need reservations months in advance? Jewelry?” Kurt asked.

“None of that is needed. Maybe a card would be nice, that I could look at over and over again.” Adam said.

“A card?” Kurt asked.

“I wouldn’t say no to chocolates.” Adam chuckled.  “Kurt, close your eyes and tell me YOUR perfect Valentine’s Day.”

“Breakfast with someone I love and who loves me. We have strawberry or cherry and whipped cream filled crepes. We exchange cards.  My dad always gave me a small box of Chocolates at breakfast, and when I got old enough I gave him one, too…so an exchange of a box of chocolates picked out just for the one I love. We spend the day texting each other little notes or messages. We spend the evening together, or as much as we can if someone has to work.  Dinner would be nice, movies are too crowded.”

“Dinner out at someplace expensive?” Adam asked.

Kurt hummed. “It doesn’t matter.” He said quietly. “I just want to be with who I love.”

“Open your eyes, love.” Adam said.  He smiled at Kurt when Kurt looked his way. “None of the rest is important.  Time with my loved one is.  Could that time be a fancy dinner and dancing?  Might be, but not having that won’t break my relationship.  Might also be a pub and karaoke, or the Lover’s Charity ball, or dinner at home by candlelight at midnight because my love worked a late shift. If my love can’t afford lavish gifts, I don’t expect anything lavish.  I would like a bit of warning for lavish gift giving…as I know you would…as neither of us like getting if we don’t have a gift to give in return.”

Kurt smiled.  He had tossed a bit of a fit when Adam bought him the steampunk top hat he’d been looking at but hadn’t saved up enough to buy the month before.  Adam just shrugged it off and told Kurt he wanted Kurt to have it but he knew the boutique they’d seen it at sold limited pieces and often things didn’t stay long.

“New Year’s Eve?” Kurt asked.

“I’ll go with you to Time’s Square ONCE, if you feel some bizarre need to do so.” Adam said.

“If I wanted to stay home and watch the ball drop on TV?” Kurt asked.

“I’m good with that.” Adam said.

“Host a party where we play card games and board games and sing all night long until the sun rises?” Kurt asked.

“That sounds fun.”

“Even if we didn’t have any alcohol?”

“Have I struck you yet as a big drinker?” Adam asked.

Kurt smiled. “No.  You generally get one beer or two when we are out, but only if it’s good beer.  I’ve seen you have a cup of wine here or there.  We had those daiquiris at that one bar.”

“I don’t care one way or the other, but if we have alcohol we’ll switch to non-alcohol as soon as the ball drops and everyone will stay for another several hours, if not all night.”

Kurt beamed.  “Ok, St. Patrick’s Day?”

“I’m not Irish.  I can take it or leave it.”

“Easter?”

“Ehh…we need peeps and chocolate covered marshmallow eggs.  Blame the Apples for those. The rest…Easter was a Religious holiday in my family and I’m not religious right now.”

“If I wanted an egg hunt and Easter basket?” Kurt said.

“I’d make you an egg hunt and Easter basket.  We can also do a Grand Easter Dinner if you’d like, but you’d have to tell me what YOU eat at one.”

Kurt shrugged. “Really, the only thing that was a must was deviled eggs made from the eggs we had dyed.”

Adam smiled. “We can dye eggs and you can make me your best deviled eggs for Easter.”

“Birthdays?” Kurt asked.

“Whatever we want to do.” Adam said. “I do love birthday gifts though.  My favorite was you asking me to coffee.”

Kurt laughed. ”Seriously, though, what type of things do you like for your birthday?”

“One year we went to a show in London.  One year my mum bought me a new suit.  Once I got a new bike.  I’ve received books or clothes or movies.  There isn’t a set recipe for Birthday gift giving.  Unless it’s an American thing I’m missing.”

Kurt sighed. “I have a feeling I just know too many people with extreme expectations.”

“To quickly cover it, there isn’t really anything from home I celebrate here, although last year I did find a bonfire to attend in November for Guy Fawke’s night. Also…I’ll go along with whatever is important to you for your American Holidays.  Just tell me when and where to be and what is needed.”

Kurt laughed. “I might just stick you with the Turkey with that attitude.”

“Bring it on, love.” Adam said.  “I’ve never made one yet, but I could certainly try.”

Kurt nodded.  “I guess that leaves Halloween and Christmas time.”

“I appreciate a good Halloween party.  I’m a theater lover, darling, we live for dressing up.  As for Christmas, my mum had a rule of gift giving we all followed. A game or toy, something we needed and something we’d wanted really bad, something to watch, two new books…one that was fiction and one that wasn’t, and clothing.  Always socks, underclothing, and a knitted jumper.  Father Christmas brought new outerwear, sweets and coins, and something for hobbies.  Often he also brought new outdoor items, like a sled or skates…or tickets to a museum or something that we could do over the holiday.  For us kids, we had to give each other gifts.  Right now we have to spend more than 15 but less than 100. On Boxing day we went to my grandmother’s and had a huge family party there where we exchanged gifts…small things like puzzles or comics or marbles or such…Aunt Emily’s family always got each person a cookie tin and filled it. My father’s family gathered for twelfth night and we exchanged gifts then…there it is was always hobby related. Neither of those days are big here. I send my mum a box to take to each gathering.”

“What about Christmas Eve?” Kurt asked.

“We hung stockings and went to bed.  Father Christmas prefers mince pies and mulled wine.  Currently, I wake up, open my box from my mum which has Father Christmas gifts and a stuffed stocking, eat breakfast, and open anything from other people. Then I do whatever for the rest of the day. How about you?”

“I did an Advent Calendar…we actually did about three. I had one for activities so things would get done. I started that when I was nine. My mom made one when her and my dad got married.  It hung on the wall and you put little things on it each day.  Then I had a treat one.  Most years my dad would fill it, some years I filled it myself…like last year and senior year. I lit advent candles.  Dad did them when he was little, but not when he got bigger.  My mum didn’t do them growing up as they were too tied with religion. When they got married they started the candles up again. She used the themes…love, hope, peace, joy…but not the religious aspects of it.  On the love week we focused on finding love and spreading love in our lives, on peace week we focused on finding peace and balance, on joy we focused on sharing and finding joy, on hope we focused on goals and looking to the future. I still do that, but only by myself and not where anyone can see me.  We also burned Christmas smelling candles all month long...and had a candle in the window.  We did a solstice thing. I bake all month long.  I go see the Nutcracker…doesn’t matter where.  I’ve been to some spectacular small company shows. We listened to Christmas music all the time and watch Christmas shows…there is a list.  We opened a gift Christmas Eve…pajamas and a book.  The rest we opened Christmas day, Santa left a full stocking and presents…but Santa didn’t leave big things. My dad shops much like your mom, but probably a bit less. Dad was big on experiences.  He left a lot of family things under the tree, things we could do together.  He always gave a ‘memory’ gift.  The day after Christmas we always went shopping. I get one or two memory ornaments each year; we had the tree in the living room and a memory tree. When my mom was alive we just had the one tree, but it made Dad sad, so we had two for a long time. After he married Carole that all changed. Everything changed.  Because we did it all wrong.”

“Wrong?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, because it was just me and my dad for so long, so we got everything wrong about Christmas and even Thanksgiving.” Kurt said.

“Wrong according to who?”

“Carole and Finn, Rachel, Quinn and Blaine and Santana.” Kurt said.

“I don’t understand. How can you get it wrong?” Adam asked. “And isn’t Rachel Jewish?”

“Well, if you have multiple trees they all have to be properly themed and coordinated. You must have only baking days…you cannot bake all month.  If you bake all the time it is not special and therefore can’t be holiday baking.  Advent calendars cheapen the holiday, as do anything else like that. Candles are either pretentious or just for poor people…I’m not sure which one. Christmas Music will get too old too quickly if listened to in the house, so must be reserved for in the car. Solstice is only for devil worshipers…”

Adam snorted and Kurt stopped and looked at him.

“I’m sorry but just because your traditions were different didn’t mean yours were wrong.  I know you realize this in your head…you said you still do several of them.  So how did you end up managing?”

“We did things Carole and Finn’s way or not at all.” Kurt said. “In the loft we did things Rachel and Santana’s way or not at all…mostly Rachel’s way.”

“Tell me about it more.”

Kurt sighed. “Christmas to Finn and Rachel was about what they got.  They wanted big things and lots of them.  Newest, biggest, best. Finn told his mom what he wanted and he expected it under the tree.  Rachel gave people lists and she was to have received it all. Santa brought big things…like TVs and such.  To Finn. Carole let Finn open whatever he wanted that was under the tree from Christmas Eve day on…if he got bored. Even things not to him were fair game because things under the tree were supposed to just be to Finn, as it had been that way since he was little and he couldn’t be expected to look at tags when excited. Rachel was the same way.  Everything under a tree where Rachel lived was obviously to her.  The trees had to be themed and everything on them had to ‘go together’.  Carole bought new stuff every year and gave what she had used to her Aunt to do with whatever she liked.  There were to be colored balls and lights and maybe a few other things but not much, except that first year when she decided since she had Dad who could afford it she could do her dream of purple and pink Victorian.  That involved lots of lace and fake roses and satin cones filled with treats and dolls and shoes and old fashioned hat boxes and tassels and puffs and it was horrid.  She also spent like 800 bucks on it and then went and tossed half it out. I was allowed to bake just five days in December. Finn could not see the advent stuff at all…and dad could not put it together for me, it wouldn’t be fair to Finn.”

Adam moved over to Kurt and pulled him up and off the chair and then sat down and pulled Kurt into his lap.

“I want a relationship that is even, darling.  I don’t want you to do everything MY way and I will not do everything just YOUR way. We will find OUR way and do it together. Sometimes OUR way might be doing things your way, because it works best.  Sometimes we might do things my way, because it works best.  But we will figure it out together and it will be what is best for us.”

“Even my night time ritual?” Kurt asked.

“When I stay over do you do your nighttime ritual the same as when I don’t and do you regret it if you change it?”

Kurt leaned his head on Adam’s shoulder. “I do everything I normally do, but I do it with you there with me talking to me and I talk to you.  It is a great sharing time.”

“So…we do it OUR way…a way that works for both of us.” Adam said.

“I’m being silly about this aren’t I?” Kurt asked.

“No.  I don’t think so.  You had a relationship start up and because of that had to give up traditions and listen to how wrong you had been about them.  To me it sounded like many you were told off about had been things you shared with your mom.  That hurt and left scars, even if you got over the initial hurt.”

“And then there was Blaine.” Kurt said.

Adam hugged him tight. “Yeah, and you haven’t even talked about that.”

“He never got me anything. I never got a Christmas gift from him…or graduation gift or birthday gift or Valentine’s gift. However, I always had to buy him gifts and give them to him.  If I didn’t get the right thing or give it at the right time or with the right amount of flair…it was an issue.”

“It was all about him, then. Not surprising…everything always was.” Adam said. “I want us to be about US…both of us.  We’ll work traditions out as we go.  They will change as our circumstances change.  We will make it a mash-up of epic awesomeness, though. Especially doing it together.  Now, tell me more about your advent treats…”

Kurt launched into descriptions of different ways he’d done his advent treat calendar and his activity calendar as Adam held him. Adam made note on Kurt’s papers and thought about all the ways he could bring some of the traditions Kurt had not been able to enjoy back into Kurt’s life…and what to introduce him to from his traditions. He was looking forward to mending some old wounds.

[profoundnet]

Profound Member Post - December 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirely during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR DECEMBER 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

lunastories - @lunastories - lunastories

Inked Feathers, Wounded Skin

Summary: Retired hunters Dean and Sam live in a cabin in the woods, only occasionally taking cases from nearby villagers and those who need their help. Castiel is the very protective harpy that has been awkwardly following (stalking) Dean for years. After Castiel injures a wing, he is taken in by the Winchesters. As Dean tends to him, they form a relationship, and Dean slowly falls for the harpy. But the unique peach cream color of Castiel’s wings hides a secret; one he isn’t sure Dean could accept.

SFW Accompanying art by @correlia-be

supernatural9917 

Supernatural Advent Calendar 2018

Summary: A collection of art and ficlets for every day of advent! A mix of fluff, a lil bit of smut, ugly sweaters, extra fluff, a pinch of schmoop and, oh yeah, more fluff.

NSFW

Accompanying art by @foxymoley

Strangers in the Night

Summary: Dean meets Cas in a bar. They both have rings on their fingers, but that doesn't stop them sharing a night of passion. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: Roleplay as strangers in a bar.

Tags: roleplay as strangers in a bar, mention of infidelity, but it isn't really, Crash and Slow Burn verse

NSFW

Locked Out

Summary: Dean is always getting drunk and locking himself out, then calling his locksmith buddy Castiel to get him back in. This time is a little different, though.

Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: One is a locksmith and the other is locked out and naked.

NSFW

iCeDreams - iCeDreams 

Fully Booked

Summary: Dean just wants to buy a book for Christmas. Is that too much to ask for?

Tags: Bookstore Setting

SFW

MarshiarasDream & HeartsandThumbs 

Who Needs 12 Days of Christmas Anyway? 

Summary: Cas has finally told his parents that he’s gay. That promptly led to him being uninvited from the family Christmas. So he plans on spending the holidays on his own, grading papers. Enter Dean, who will not let this stand. No way will he let his best friend - who he may or may not be harboring a crush on - be alone for Christmas.

Tags: AU, College AU, ChristmasFluff, Pining, yes there’s mistletoe, Gratuitous Hamilton References, Idiots in Love, alternating pop

SFW

mrshays - @mrshays - mrshays

Elves

Summary: The elves take over the bunker for the Holiday Drabble Prompts list. 39. How many elves on the shelf is too many? 11. When I think about you, I touch my elf Prompts written by @kpopfanfictrash, @knockknocksoosthere, and @chanesollins

Tags: Double Drabble, Christmas Fluff, Jack's Three Dads, Elf on the Shelf, Dadstiel

SFW

artbloggouinetteparletrop - @artbloggouinetteparletrop - gouinette-parle-trop

Under the Pillowfort 

Summary: A quick comic type of drawing i did to celebrate my first week on pillowfort. Dean and cas (college AU) are enjoying a cosy night under a pillow fort.

Tags: destiel, destiel fan art, destiel college AU, castiel, dean winchester, destiel fluff

SFW 

Dummies in love in the coffee shop

Summary: A fan art i made to thanks deliciousirony for their lovely fic. It's a realistic painting of dean and cas taking a coffee while both waiting for their blind date to arrive ;) Tags: destiel, destiel fan art, destiel college AU, dean winchester, castiel SFW

Accompanying fic by @delicious-irony

BlazeEBlake - @blazeeblake - BlazeEBlake

Winchester Circus & Its Fantastical Fallen Angel 

Summary: For nearly a decade Castiel has strayed further and further from home, doing his best to drive himself to distraction from what awaits upon his return. When a circus comes to town, he sees little more than another temporary means of escape. At least, until he lays eyes upon the troupe's handsome ringmaster. Dean Winchester has learned to trust little and expect even less from life as he struggles to keep his family's traveling circus afloat, so the sudden appearance of a wild eyed stranger looking for work has him both wary and certain of it being little more than a passing fancy. But as time passes and bonds are forged, Dean is forced to confront old wounds and new feelings for the enigmatic Castiel Novak.

Tags: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Circus, Post American Civil War, Trapeze Artist Castiel, Ringmaster Dean, Less than period typical homophobia, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending

SFW

waywarded - @wildsofourhearts - waywarded

Falling Awake

Summary: After Michael is killed by Team Free Will 2.0, Dean ends up in the Empty, Michael's grace pulling a sliver of his consciousness there. The Cosmic Entity calls him out on not realising Castiel is in love with him. Dean needs to decide what to do with that information as he wakes up home.

Tags: Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Protective Cas, Cas and Dean Being Idiots

SFW

Entwining Your Broken Parts With My Love

Summary: Castiel hates his broken wings and a fading spell has rendered them in their corporeal form. Dean wants to show how beautiful they are to him and to help Cas feel better about them, even if just for a while.

Tags: Gentle Dom Dean, sub Cas, but Cas usually Doms for Dean, Rope Bondage, Wings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Safe Sane and Consensual, BDSM

NSFW 

CRNoble - @hardertobreatheat-night - CRNoble

Skin Wars

Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?

Tags: Angst, Angst with a happy ending, Skin Wars!AU

SFW

Lock Me Up

Summary: Dean and Cas have been together for a few years now, exploring their D/s relationship, mostly trying things that Cas suggests, until Dean finally finds something he really wants to try. Written for the SPN Kink Christmas Exchange

Tags: BDSM, Male Chastity, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Suspension, Bondage, blindfolds, toys, dirty talk, dirty pictures

NSFW

Caged Heat

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Cas team up with Meg to kill Crowley, but they get WAY more than they bargained for. Especially Dean, but how was he supposed to know one little kiss would make him feel this way?

Tags: Canon-typical violence, episode rewrite, angst, angst with a happy ending

SFW

LeafZelindor - @leafzelindor​

Holiday Card

Summary: Art drawn for the 2018 holiday mixtape!

Tags: fluff, destiel, family vibes

SFW

Merry Christmas Cas

Summary: Fluffy Dean gives Cas a Christmas Present Picture

Tags: Destiel,  Cutness

SFW

Snowy Kisses

Summary: Dean and Cas stealing Kisses in the Snow

Tags: Destiel, Fluff

SFW

profound-boning - @profound-boning - profound-boning

and being apart ain’t easy on this love affair

Summary: One shot ficlet featuring long distance boyfriends dean and cas being reunited!

Tags: no triggers, established long distance relationship, reunions

SFW

interstitial - interstitial

A Simple Plan

Summary: Cas and Dean have been driving Sam crazy for a decade with their pathetic mutual pining, so Sam's slightly manipulative sex party solution seems more than fair. Now it's just a matter of some shopping for supplies, and a bit of reverse psychology.

Tags: Crack, Brief Mention of Various Theoretical Future Sex Party-related Ships, Many of Them Crack, List Available In Notes For NoTPs

NSFW

Nera_Solani - @nera-solani - Nera-Solani

Embrace of Wings

Summary: When Dean and Cas get married after one year of domestic bliss, they do it both the human and the angel way. Just that the latter has an unexpected side effect... but that can't exactly be called bad.

Tags: Established Relationship, Angel Castiel, Marriage, Soul Bond, Winged Dean Winchester, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Angelic Grace Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

SFW

Pride

Summary: Just a 100 word drabble for the prompt Carnival

Tags: Drabble, Profound100 Challenge, Prompt: Carnival, Pride Festival

SFW

Bright as a Candle

Summary: Just a 100 word drabble for the prompt Candle

Tags: Drabble, Profound100 Challenge, prompt: candle, candlelit dinner

SFW

Potlight

Summary: Just a 100 word drabble for the prompt Potlight, that was later expanded to a ficlet

Tags: Drabble, Profound100 Challenge, expanded afterwards, prompt: potlight, Soul Bond, Angelic Grace Bonds

SFW

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160

True Loves Kiss

Summary: Dean finally tells Cas how he feels... after Cas made that deal.

Tags: Major Character Death, Season 14 Spoilers, Podfic Available

SFW

Lay Me Down To Sleep

Summary: With Castiel's deal with the Empty, how long do Dean and Cas really have left?

Tags: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Suicide, Season 14 Spoilers

SFW

The Final Moment

Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped by a monster. Based on a dream I had.

Tags: Major Character Death

SFW

Schoolyard Angel 

Summary: Castiel is the ring leader of Dean's biggest bullies, the angels. Dean gets to know Castiel blindly but can this newfound love prevail?

Tags: Highschool AU, Angst with Happy Ending

SFW

Cookietacular

Summary: “Did you take the decoder ring out of the box?” Jack asked. “Maybe,” Cas answered. It was a lie.

Tags: Season 14 Spoilers, FLUFF

SFW

Of Monsters and Angels 

Summary: Dean's back in Purgatory but something is wrong. He can't find his angel.

Tags: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence (typical for show), Eventual Happy Ending

SFW

I Love You, I Love All of You

Summary: Dean and Cas go on a routine hunt alone. Their feelings become clear.

Tags: Major Character Death, Heavy Angst

SFW

Dean // Only Human

Summary: Fan Video made by RavensCAT and MaggieMaybe160 Song- "Human" by Christina Perri 

SFW

Collaborator: @ravenscat-tumbler

EllenofOz - EllenofOz

Drunk Texts and Midnight Snacks 

Summary: Cas is just trying to get his paper finished, but a certain best friend of his keeps sending him texts from the campus bar. When Dean’s texts abruptly stop, Cas reluctantly goes to check on him.

Tags: Alternate Universe - college, friends to lovers, Castiel and Dean Winchester use their words, drunk Dean Winchester

NSFW

Four Hours

Summary: Castiel is cursed, after Rowena turned him into an attack dog and set him on her own son. Dean and Sam find him later in the bunker, but Dean notices something new that the curse has brought out in the angel— an irresistible amplification of his scent. It seems Castiel is now definitely an alpha, and being around Dean is dangerous. For Destiel Smut Bingo, prompt: “It’s been almost four hours and it won’t go down”

Tags: A/b/o dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, season 11, Porn with Plot, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean

NSFW

cutelittlekitty

Life of a Couple ch7 - Take Me Home, Country Road part IV

Summary: wedding fluff and smut episodic chapter in my Heavenly Body series (the chapter can be read as a stand-alone story)

Tags: Destiel, AU-modern, wedding, fluff, sweetness, top!dean, bottom!cas, shower sex, cas is on the autism spectrum but it's mild, no major warnings other than tooth-rottingly sweet :D

NSFW

fangirlingtodeath513 - @fangirlingtodeath513 - fangirlingtodeath513

Sunshine

Summary: Cas comes clean and the Shadow tries to claim it's reward.

Tags: Post-episode: 14x08 Byzantium, no archive warnings apply

SFW

The Christmas Date

Summary: Christmas is one of Dean's favorite times of the year. It means spending some quality time with his family and enjoying their company, even though it's only for a few days. So when Cas mentions he's not going home for Christmas, the thought's barely crossed his mind before he's asking Cas to come with him to Kansas. Maybe there was an ulterior motive, like spending more time with the guy he's come to like a little more than just a roommate, but Cas doesn't need to know that. At least, if Dean's kind but meddlesome family can stay out of his business, that is.

Tags: no archive warnings apply, mentions of homophobic family, christmas fluff, platonic bed sharing

SFW 

Wake Up

Summary: Dean's trapped in his own mind, and it's up to Sam and Cas to get him out.

Tags: post-episode: 14x09 The Spear, no archive warnings apply, needle use, possessed dean winchester

SFW

Home

Summary: for the Supernatural One-Word Bingo  Prompt: cotton

Tags: no archive warnings apply, first kiss, sharing clothes, human castiel

SFW

A Thousand Years

Summary: Dean burns the dinner he'd been making for his date with Castiel, so he calls his mother for help.

Tags: no archive warnings apply, first dates, weddings, wedding fluff

SFW

turningthepages - turningthepages

Too Damn Young

Summary: Twenty years ago Castiel had been a version of himself he wishes he’d never lost. Looking out at the lake that he spent the best summer of his life he could still feel a glimmer of the man he used to be.

SFW

anyrei - anyrei

Snow Angel

Summary: Dean and Cas are out in a forest in winter, hunting a creature and Dean finally realizes that he needs Cas to know about his feelings.

Tags: First Time, Case, romantic scenery, snow, canon-verse, no warnings

NSFW

Fix You

Summary: Dean finally allows Cas to heal him. Set right after Episode: s11e04 Baby.

Tags: Season/Series 11, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, Smut, First Time

NSFW

Not Enough Brain Bleach

Summary: When Sam walks to the kitchen at night to get a snack he witness something unexpected.

Tags: Season/Series 11, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, voyeuristic!Sam, but not really, Sam Needs Brain Bleach, PWP, Destiel from Sam's POV

NSFW

dean-cas-in-the-impala - @dean-cas-in-the-impala - Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala

And Nothing Else Matters 

Summary: Castiel always pays his debts.

Tags: Angst, Romance, 14X08, Based on 14X08

SFW

kradarua - kradarua

Something Dark

Summary: Castiel looked even wilder in person. Dean let his eyes roam over his (now fully clothed) form, smiling appreciatively. He inhaled deeply, curious to find no real trace of a scent. “He’s on scent blockers,” the employee explained. "Running this auction is involved enough without having to settle claim disputes if an omega’s scent triggers some alpha’s rut.” That suited him fine; both he and Sam were on scent blockers most of the time and he’d planned on requiring that Castiel stay on them too. It helped with anonymity. “Thank you,” he said, “That will be all.” The employee gave a small bow and left to service the other high bidders. “Well, Cas,” Dean said cheerily, “Let’s go home.”

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, abo, rough sex, criminal activity, dark fic, torture

NSFW

canadduh - @canadduh - canadduh

Memories Made

Summary: Castiel Remembers. Just as he's done every year.

Tags: Major character death - Freeform, Sick Character, Sick Dean, Cas POV, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff

SFW

The Unexpected Holiday

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Dean and Cas enjoy an unexpected holiday.

Tags: holiday fluff, Post-Case-Fic, injured cas, Dorks in Love, Original Character(s), Cabin Fic, Cabins, Christmas, Injured Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Cas is in the closet (Literally), holiday fic, canon-verse

SFW

tfw_cas - @punk-is-notdead - tfw_cas 

Dean’s Christmas Cookies

Summary: Dean Winchester presents his Christmas cookie recipe, with a little help - or is it hindrance - from Castiel.

Tags: Baking; Christmas fluff; Established Castiel/Dean Winchester; Human Castiel

SFW

Snowballs Hurt, But Snow Angels Can Make It All Better 

Summary: All Dean Winchester wants is a traditional family Christmas; that's not too much to ask, is it? But when things don't work out how he had hoped, he can count on his family, and some snow, to lift his spirits. Maybe Christmas won't be too bad after all.

Tags: Snow; Snowball Fight; Snowmen; All The Snow; Christmas Fluff; Fluff; Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss; Snow Angels

SFW

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Challenge - “Overcoming Hurdles” (Rated PG13)

Blaine has a milestone he's trying to reach, something he's excited about, something he hopes will help him as a performer, but he's nervous - afraid that he won't be able to do it. But his supportive, and more experienced, boyfriend is there to help. (1064 words)

A/N: This was written for some of the prompts from the @klaineadvent challenge, but I can't remember which ones they are. Plays the pronoun game a lot. Sorry, but not sorry.

Read on AO3.

“Mmph … grrr! I … I can’t, Kurt!”

“Yes, you can,” Kurt says, running a soothing hand down his frustrated boyfriend’s bowed back. “Take a deep breath …”

Blaine complies, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Now, concentrate on opening up as wide as you can and slide it in. After that, everything will feel 100% better. I promise.”

Blaine nods. He takes a second deep breath, returning to step one when he tries steps two and three and they fall flat. “It … it feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

“It stings! But also … uh … I’m having a hard time putting my fingers … there,” Blaine admits, cheeks burning so hot with embarrassment his eyes water, which doesn’t help his predicament any.

“I understand. It is kind of awkward and uncomfortable to begin with, but once you get used to it, that will go away in a blink.”

Blaine’s lips tighten in an attempt to smile, but he still looks painfully unsure of himself, of his abilities. “I guess … I don’t trust myself.”

“Oh, honey. Do you want me to put it in for you?”

“That’s sweet of you to offer, but … I don’t want you to accidentally hurt me and then feel guilty about it. Besides, this is a part of growing up. I’ll be going to college soon. I’ve got to be able to do this for myself. I mean, what if I need do this on a day you’re not around?”

“Sweetheart” – Kurt chuckles, pecking a kiss to the nose, then the lips, then the exposed neck of his shirtless boyfriend – “we’re going to be living together. I’m going to be with you a good portion of the time. But, you’re right,” he agrees when he notices how stressed out Blaine has become. Kurt is trying not to turn this into too big a deal, but it is. It’s an opportunity. Tackling this hurdle will pave the way to Blaine landing big parts in productions on Broadway.

For all his want to take care of his boyfriend, he can’t rush him.

And he can’t treat him like a child.

Kurt believes in Blaine, but Blaine needs to believe in himself, too.

And from the look on his face, the constant shaking of his head, Blaine is far from doing that – at least, where this is concerned.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, Kurt.”

“How in the world do you think you’re disappointing me?”

“I was the one who was so hyped up about this, and now … I’m backing out.”

“Blaine, you’re having an issue. It’s taking you longer than you thought it would to adjust. But you’re not backing out. And you can’t disappoint me. Not over this.” Kurt sighs, resting his head carefully on the back of Blaine’s neck. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know. I know you do. And I want this, too.”

“Then we’ll stay here, in this bathroom, until you get it right. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Blaine says, hands gripping the porcelain of the sink, steeling himself before giving it another go – his last go, he’s determined.

This time, he gets it right.

Kurt positions himself behind him, rubbing Blaine’s back as he tries to hold himself steady, tries to keep his hands from shaking. “Should I put on some music?” he asks. “Maybe something slow and romantic to take your mind off things?”

“No. No, I don’t want the distraction. Just, hold me? The way you were before?”

“Alright.” Kurt rests comforting hands on Blaine’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “Do you want me to count to three?”

“Yes, please.”

“One … two …”

“Three,” Blaine finishes, arching his back, tilting his face to the ceiling, and completing his task in one swift but smooth thrust. He stands stone still, staring at the ceiling, examining his body with his brain to make certain everything is where it’s supposed to be. He remembers what Kurt says and breathes, then he blinks. Then the world becomes clear. “I think … yes … I did it! I finally did it!”

“You sure did.” Kurt sighs, kissing Blaine softly on the nape of the neck. “How do you feel?”

“I feel … relieved. Confident. And a little stupid, to be honest.”

“Don’t be. It takes practice. But you’ll be doing this for the rest of your life, so you’ll get plenty of that,” Kurt teases.

“Plus, I had you to guide me.” Blaine peeks shyly over his shoulder, placing a kiss to Kurt’s fingertips. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s middle and hugs him. “I remember what my first time was like.”

“Was it bad?”

“Yup. God, did it hurt!”

“But you started early,” Blaine acknowledges with a swallow. “I never thought I’d have to do this at all. It sort of crept up on me.”

“Damn stupid astigmatism.” Kurt frowns. “You’re lucky. I had to start wearing contact lenses in middle school. But I didn’t want to mess around with glasses. I didn’t think it matched my aesthetic. Not for all of the spilling saline solution on my clothes.” He glances at Blaine’s discarded polo hanging over the shower bar. “Good thing it doesn’t stain.”

“I thought you liked my glasses,” Blaine says, turning in Kurt’s arms so he can flirt with his boyfriend face to face.

“I do.” Kurt nibbles Blaine’s earlobe, doing his best to keep him relaxed. “They look adorable on you. Me, not so much. Trust me.”

“Fair enough,” Blaine says with another kiss, still stubbornly thinking that Kurt in a classic pair of gold wire rims might be the realization of many a wet dream.

“Well, now that you have that mastered, let’s get the second one in.”

“Hmmm … and after that?” Blaine slides his hands up Kurt’s back, nuzzling his neck with his eyes closed since having one clear eye and one blurry eye is giving him a mild headache. But he can think of a few things they can do with their afternoon that doesn’t necessarily require him to see.

He hopes Kurt might be thinking the same thing.”

“Then” - Kurt grabs Blaine’s hips and turns him back towards the sink, in a bit of a rush ever since Blaine peeled his polo off and tossed it aside - “we can have sex.”

[kaliiwashere]

dating site for seniors over 60

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