#but sometimes it hurts when I can't escape being aware of the differences between how they react to me and how they react to others

[atomicrainbowlight]

.

[burning-fcols]

「 ☆ 」 Surprised by Stolas’s refusal to pull off his dick, eyes study the royal with concern. Checking his expression for discomfort as Stolas swallows the potent load, flinching at the barbs coughed and scattered on the floor in a lewd clue of what happened. Damage isn't as great as Blitz always assumed it would be, the Imp habitually urging partners away whenever climax was near. Ingrained paranoia shooting through him at the thought of purposely causing them harm. Physical, at least... As if drawing that line may somehow make up for everything else he did.

Throat bobs in remembrance of the feathers he'd sometimes cough up. They didn't hurt, per-say... but they could scratch a bit on the way out. Gaze flits to the others beak when Stolas's smooth voice comes out hoarse, overcome with an urge to kiss him. As if that may soothe whatever discomfort the owl is experiencing. To ease his mouth with a caring tongue, to pepper well-meaning affection down Stolas's throat despite knowing it can't reach the irritation inside.

Before he can give in to the embarrassing urge, Stolas is moving things along... As expected. As he WANTED. They both did. With a shaky exhale, a shiver courses down his spine and ends with a flick of his tail. Brows crease, gaze averting to the side as he weakly responds, ❝ Uh... Y-Yeah. Yeah, sure... ❞ Not the most convincing answer, but easily dismissible considering the situation. Under normal circumstances, Blitz would think nothing of the offer. Hell, he'd be eager for it. The chance to lay claim to Stolas's dick in a way NO other Imp has. With the tension between the pair, he should even be elated at verbally lashing into the royal.

... The last few instances he screamed at Stolas, it left him feeling sick. Chest hollow and stomach overfilled with churning emotions. Stolas had left both times. As he should have, reluctant as Blitz is to admit it. Who wants to just stand there when being verbally ripped into? Stolas wasn't the sort to scream in circles. Once it became clear the conversation wasn't going anywhere, he ended it... Unlike Blitz, who would have been stuck screaming for hours if given the chance. Clinging to the possibility of the argument somehow turning out differently.

Stolas's dick is inside him before he can say anything else. Not that Blitz even knew what he WANTED to say. Breath catches with a stuttered gasp, muscles easing to welcome the shaft like an old friend. Tight but not painful, hot and wanting for the others touch. Claws dig into the feathers of Stolas's form as Blitz adjusts to the long-awaited sensation, vividly aware of how much he missed it now that he's finally being granted it again. He wonders if Stolas feels the same rush of dizzying relief. ❝ Yeah. You are. ❞ He mutters, lifting his hips before SLAMMING them down.

And with that— he tries to quiet his thoughts.

Breathing heavily, attempts to take in air are broken by unfiltered moans as the Imp rides his lover's partner's dick. Feverishly bouncing himself upon the throbbing length, body dapples with sweat as Stolas's shaft becomes drenched in pre as well as the Imp's cum. Aiding in his pace, filling the air with the unmistakable sound of the royal's cock claiming Blitz as deeply as it's able. Blitz taking ownership of it as well, guiding it to reach his innermost sensitive areas. ❝ Y-You're such... an asshole... You know that? You— ... Fuck, you feel so good. This feels so fucking good... ❞ He hisses through gritted teeth, eyes forced shut as he pleasures himself.

But even with his nerves screaming from the attention, it can't entirely distract from the looming reality. From the words trapped within Blitz's chest, ironically finding escape now that they're in the midst of something so achingly understandable familiar. Grip on feathers grows harsher, hips picking up their pace as he growls, ❝ You better feel good too. You better be fucking enjoying this. I swear to FUCK if my ass isn't driving your dick crazy then— then... ❞ Swallowing thickly, he gasps through a broken pant when a thrust blinds him for a moment.

❝ ... Why'd you have to do it? ❞

Eyes flutter open, hazed... pleasure and pain intermixed in a way Stolas brings in overwhelming amounts. Voice breaks at the question; movements falter but don't stop. Blitz terrified to take the pleasure away and leave not the SLIGHTEST apology distraction from what comes next. ❝ Why'd you have to go and change things? Make it all so... so fucked up. ❞ It always was fucked up. Stolas had even admitted as much... but at least it was in a way Blitz could handle. A way he could keep going. ❝ We had a GOOD thing going... I— I thought it was... good. Yeah, you didn't seem like you actually gave a shit but— ... And now everything is— ❞

Blitz falls quiet. He doesn't really need to say it... Stolas was there. He knows what happened. Knows how Blitz barely managed to get THIS much from him. ❝ Earlier... You said you loved me. Love-d. ❞ Past tense. A single line in a bombardment of drunken emotions, but it stood out to Blitz. Hasn't stopped echoing in his mind since. Blinking back tears, he feels like the most pathetic person alive for getting THIS emotional over— ... well, emotions while currently riding another man's dick.

❝ Do... Do you not love me anymore? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

Stolas had always been the more dominate one between them and even with blitz being the one who was getting fucked tonight the little imp still managed to take the more dominate role. It warmed his heart just how jealous and pissed off the imp got at the mere idea of stolas hooking up with someone else. As much as he was irritated at the time the fact that he killed a man for just making out with him was very arousing.

He also liked the idea of fucking the imp on a man's corpse if they ever dared to take what was his precious blitzy's again. He let the smaller demon do what he wished with his throat. The harsher hold and pull of his head feathers only arousing him more. Filling him with a deep desire.

He had both a throbbing cock and wet cunt to deal with on his own. The quicker the red hot demon would cum the quicker they could get down to business. In the past when blitz was reaching his peak he would always usher the goetia to move away so he wouldn't get hurt by the dick barbs that would be released upon his climax.

But even with his lover's warning he didn't move an inch off his dick. Quite frankly if he got hurt he considered it just punishment for how he'd been treating blitz. He wasn't the only one at fault in this sort of breakup.

Oddly enough while they are a mild irritation they aren't a bother to his throat enough where the entire evening would be ruined. The pain minimal. At worst he'll be dealing with a sore throat. Once he swallows his load properly humming at the taste he pulls off. Coughing out the dick barbs the way blitz has been known to cough out the owl's feathers.

"Not as painful as I thought." He said his voice coming out a bit horse. "Now for the main event blitzy. You get all the control. You ride daddy as hard as you want. You can yell and scream at me. Use me as your personal dildo. Wouldn't you like that?" He cooed into his ear. Lifting him up until the prince himself could settle himself on the mattress. Using some of the imp's remaining cum on his dick as lube he slowly eased his dick inside him. "I'm yours. Aren't I darling?"

[moonagedaydreamohyeah]

Hi!! Welcome back! I saw you'retaking prompts, so I hope it's okay for me to send a lil one 🥺 I have this idea where Bucky has nightmares constantly, and they get so bad he can't wake up. So after a couple of weeks, he's barely holding on, Steve tries something though. And now wherever he has a nightmare, he grabs his hand, to soothe him while telling him various memories of them, their wedding, their childhood. It works, Bucky calms down eventually and then wakes up. Telling Steve his dream shifted at a certain point and stopped being scary. I had this idea but I truly cannot write at all, if you choose to do it (it's totally fine if you don't though) I know you'll do a great job! Tysm

Hii Nonnie! Thank you soo so much for your prompt, I’m sorry it took so long! Here it is though, it turned out pretty long but I hope you like it!!🙏🌼💗

Trigger warnings for some angst and trauma related stuff and a close-to panic attack - I promise it gets fluffy before long☺️

_____________________________________________

The first thing Steve registered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings was the darkness of their room, suggesting that it was nowhere close to being morning yet.

He slowly blinked his eyes open and as he reached his hand out he came in contact with heated and sweat-clammy skin at the same time as he heard the tell-tale whimpering sounds from beside him, which instantly alerted to the cause of him having woken up in the first place.

As he sat up and turned the lamp at his bedside on, Steve looked at the distressed face of his boyfriend, at the way that his hands are opening and closing around the sheet in tight fists as if battling through a pain that was only a memory, but probably felt just as fresh and real as the approaching dawn.

Running a hand tiredly over his face, Steve suspected the bone deep exhaustion which is the product of almost two weeks of sleepless nights, for the fact that he didn’t realise what was happening the moment he stirred into wakefulness.

Steve took a deep breath in a lost effort to gather himself for what appeared to be another sleepless night with Bucky reliving the worst moments of his life while Steve sat helplessly beside him, unable to wake him up from the horror he was reliving and bring him back to reality.

When this specific brand of night terrors had first started, Steve had gone through any and all means that he and Bucky could come up with to wake him up, finding that not one of them was enough to tear Bucky from the deep sleep he was caught up in and the painful memories that came with it.

It wasn’t like nightmares were any kind of new experience for either of them, which of course couldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. They had both experienced stuff that would bring anyone nightmares, and Bucky’s mind especially only had to dig through what seemed like a bottomless pile of more than 70 years incomparable trauma and replay it, whenever it wanted to procure night terrors of the kind that would have most people opt for never sleeping again, if it meant they didn’t have to relive it - which is what Bucky would have preferred too, if it wasn’t for his therapist having put him on a strict sleeping schedule and medication to ensure that he would actually sleep within those set times, in a sympathetic voice ensuring him that the only road to recovery was through.

Usually the other would be there to wake up whomever of them were unlucky enough to run into a nightmare bad enough to wake the other up, and they would be able to hold each other until they could talk it out and eventually go back to sleep, until they were ready to go back to sleep.

They even had a ritual set up for the really bad ones. They would put on a pot of coffee and have a cup each, indulging in plenty of cream and sugar and drink them while watching an episode or two of Steven Universe on the TV.

As none of that was something they’d gotten to enjoy before waking up in the 21’st century, due to rationing and what not, that usually brought them had suffered right back to reality, reminding them that they had both escaped the pain of the past, and were now back together in the somewhat peaceful life they had managed to create for themselves in this new time and place.

But since these particular nightmares had started, none of that had been of use anymore. No matter what Steve tried, Bucky simply wouldn’t wake up and all Steve could do was sit helplessly by his side while the whimpers and cries for help rose in volume,

That didn’t stop Steve from trying though. Reaching out to try and shake Bucky out of it, Steve tried to keep the desperation out of his voice as he spoke.

“Bucky, baby, come on wake up. You’re dreaming sweetheart, you aren’t there anymore, you’re right here with me, all you gotta do is wake up.”

As he’d come to expect though, it was no use. If anything, the nightmare only seemed to be intensifying, if the full body shiver and increasingly loud whimpers of pain was anything to go by. Steve could feel his voice wavering as he shook him a little harder while he tried to speak over the devastating sounds coming from his love.

“Bucky, please. C’mon, baby, wake up. Sweetheart.”

It was when Bucky, still not showing any signs of waking up, let out a loud, high pitched cry of ‘please, no, no more, no more please, it hurts!’ that Steve suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. His breath hitched as the sob he’d been trying to hold back suddenly tore from his throat and without thinking, he was throwing the covers off and leaping out of their shared bed and into the living room where he braced himself on the back of the couch and took in gasping breaths as he tried to control the sobs that kept coming.

As his breathing only picked up the pace, Steve felt himself steer into what would no doubt become a full blown panic attack if he didn’t get a hold of himself. He slid down to sit the floor and placed his between his knees while back and forth to eight in his in a last ditch effort to slow his breathing; ‘breathe in for eight, and then out for eight’ he recited in his head.

Finally feeling his breathing start to even out, he remembered something that Mary-Ann, Bucky’s therapist, had stressed in one of their shared sessions;

‘You can’t cure another person’s pain or trauma, and the minute you catch yourself trying or beating yourself up over not being successful in doing so, you’re only making the situation worse by creating more pain for yourself along side with the pain your loved one is already in. Working through this stuff is only something you can do for yourself. The best you can do is be by their side to support them through it and try to diminish the strain of negative thoughts and other practical stuff that takes energy away from the effort that it takes to get better.’

Bucky and Steve both had trauma to work through, and figuring out to best help each other without putting too much strain on themselves and taking on the other’s struggles as well, had been a difficult balance to achieve when they had first been brought back to each other. But through therapy and conversations they had managed to get into a pretty good rhythm when it came to balancing their relationship and everyday life which all the baggage they each brought into it, by being there for each other in the best way possible.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t still hard sometimes, and these nightmares had taken a serious toll on both of them, so it wasn’t any wonder that Steve was at his limit. Had it only taken out on the nights, that would have been a different thing. But Bucky had been restless and tired in the day too, often staring off into the distance seemingly caught up in his own head. Steve, having been kept up by Bucky’s nightmares, had slowly felt the weight of Bucky’s struggles and the overall gloomy mood in their shared home, become to much to bear with his sparring energy resources.

Reminding himself once again of Mary-Ann’s words, Steve tried to shake off the feeling of inadequacy as he slowly got up from the floor. ‘The only way to get past this is through,’ he thought decisively, ‘and we will get through it.’

Even though Steve suddenly couldn’t bear to not be by Bucky’s side for one more moment, he opted to take a quick detour into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, before he braces himself and returned to the bedroom.

By now whatever Bucky was reliving had sent him into a state of thrashing around on the sheets, throwing the covers halfway off to reveal his sweat soaked shirt, accompanied the sound of pleading, painful sounding whimpers that bordered on sobs.

Sitting himself back on the bed, Steve used one hand to grab a firm hold of Bucky’s that was now clutching the sheet hard enough that it was a wonder he hadn’t torn a hole in it yet, and started rubbing soothing circles over the back while he smoothed Bucky’s hair away from his sweaty face. Steve took a deep breath to collect himself before he started talking in a soothing voice.

“It’s okay, Buck, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere sweetheart” He didn’t know if he was still talking to Bucky or mostly trying to convince himself, when he continued, “I can’t take the pain away, but I can at least be here by your side through it, huh? Just like your Mary-Ann told us: that’s all I can do, and I’ll do it sweetheart, I’ll stay right here. I’m sorry I had to leave for a little while, but I promise I’m here now, okay? Just like you were always right there for me.”

Thinking back to the first of those awful winters when Steve had been so sick that not one doctor dared reassure his ma that he would be sure to pull through, Steve continued in that same, low voice, mostly just thinking out loud by now. He almost didn’t notice that Bucky’s whimpers had toned down a little bit and the thrashing was starting to calm down again into those god awful full body shivers.

“I guess I know how you felt now, going though those winters back then, huh? Oh god, how awful that must have been for you, baby, I get that now, don’t I? Sitting there, unable to do a damn thing but always reassuring me that I would get through even when everyone else doubted it. You always stayed, and I swear baby, that must’ve been what got me through at least the half of it.” Steve had to breath in deep again to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Remember that first winter? We can’t have been that old, maybe nine or ten I think..” Steve mused, caught up in the memories. “Yeah, that must’ve been it. I remember ‘cause we had been playing all day out in the rain and we didn’t even notice how cold it was. Your ma gave us such an earful when we came home, soaked through and teeth chattering. I remember her going at us while we stood in the bathroom, naked as the day we were born and shivering, while she got the bath ready. She had that voice on, the one she used when we’d been exceptionally stupid”, Steve scoffed quietly. “‘You boys, I swear,’ she would always say, ‘it’s barely forty degrees outside and you run around in the rain like that; you’ll get sick, that’s for sure. You boys don’t think we have better things to spent all our hot water on?’ and I remember her voice soften when she told us, ‘you gotta take better care of yourselves, especially you Steve, with how skinny you are.’ I think she was probably more worried than mad though. God, I miss your ma sometimes. She was such a wonderful woman. Always had a thing or two to say about the shenanigans we got up to, but you could always tell she wasn’t really all that mad. She was right too, of course. I spent the entire winter in bed, doing my best to cough up half a lung while you sat by my side with that determined look on your face, like you were prepared to fight off death himself if he ever even thought of bothering to show up.”

By now Bucky was visibly calming down, the only signs of distress being the furrow of his brow and the occasional clenching and unclenching of the fist that Steve wasn’t holding onto, so Steve kept talking in the hope that that was what was finally doing the trick.

“And you never let me go out after that, without being practically bunched up in a hundred layers, even if it meant you had to freeze your balls off.” Steve chuckled to himself, suddenly recalling a very fond memory. “Oh, and then when it finally got hot outside again and we were out playing - we were with that girl, what was her name again..” Steve thought back, trying to remember. “- Laurel? Loraine? You know, the one with the pretty curls you were always pulling at when her family sat in front of us in church and no one was looking. Anyway, you found that penny on the ground and decided you were gonna buy us ice cream cones, but of course one penny turned out to only be enough for one. And I remember the look on her face when you said I should have it, god, she was so disappointed. But I had lost weight from being sick all winter and I was even skinnier than usual, and you were all like ‘look at him, he needs fattening up, it’s only fair, here you go Stevie, you have it’ and you wouldn’t hear any complaints about it.”

Steve was brought back from his reminiscing by Bucky rolling over onto his back and letting out a small sigh, any signs of the nightmare having disappeared from his features. Steve was flooded with relief as he smiled down at him and continued softly. “It was all there, right in front of my face, even back then, wasn’t it? I can’t believe I spent all those years being jealous of all the ladies who were always keen on dancing with you when we went out. You only ever had eyes for me, huh?”

Steve startled at the sound of Bucky’s sleep rough mumble. “‘Course, you punk”

Squeezing his hand, Steve checked to make sure he had heard right. “Bucky? Hey, you awake honey?”

Bucky squeezed back, letting out a grumbled “Mmh.. wha’s going on, why’re you up?” but he seemed to quickly rise from his sleepy state at Steve’s choked “oh thank god”

“Hey, Steve what’s wrong, huh? Look at me, what happened? You have a nightmare or somethin’”? Bucky asked, wiping away a single tear of pure relief that had apparently escaped and was trailing down Steve’s left cheek. His look of worry turned into one of realisation though, when it dawned on him. “Oh shit, it was me having a nightmare again huh? It happened again, didn’t it? Aww I’m sorry Stevie.”

“No no, please don’t apologise,” Steve hurried to reassure him. “It’s not your fault Buck. I’m just so relieved you’re back with me. It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you in that much pain and not being able to do a thing about it,” Steve sniffled.

“Yeah, I know Stevie, I know.” Bucky expression briefly shifted to one of confusion. “How’d you wake me up? I thought we’d practically tried everything by now.”

“I didn’t, at first,” Steve said, “I just starting talking to you and then when it seemed to calm you down a bit I kinda just kept going with like, talking about memories that came up, you know from back when we were kids.”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky furrowed his brows in thought. “I don’t really remember what the nightmare was about, only that it was awful and then the dream sort of.. shifted. Something about my ma giving us an earful and then something about ice cream cones and brown curls?” Bucky’s face shifted, as if he’d remembered something funny. “God, you remember that time I found that penny? And that girl, Loraine I think, she got so mad when I bought you ice cream instead of her,” Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s the story I was telling,” Steve smiled. “To be fair, that was kind of dick move, Barnes. Ain’t no way to treat a lady.”

“Hey! You were so skinny! You clearly needed it more than her!” Bucky defended himself. “And by the way, it wasn’t exactly her I was trying to impress.” Bucky said, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve snorted. “Yeah, alright, you’re a real charmer.”

“Don’t you know it,” Bucky said. Smiling more softly, he leaned in so his forehead was resting against Steve’s. “I’m really sorry for waking you up honey. It sucks that you have to be here through all that Stevie, I know it ain’t easy on you.”

“Nah,” Steve answered. “I’m right where I want to be. Till the end of the line and all that, remember? Not planning to go anywhere”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed softly, and then in an almost whisper, sounding suddenly vulnerable, “I love you so much, Stevie.”

Sensing that Bucky was finally feeling some of the raw emotion that was left over from the nightmare he’d just endured, now that he knew that Steve was okay, Steve lifted up to plant a lingering kiss on his forehead. Rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Bucky’s back, he noted that his t-shirt was still soaked from sweat. “Me too, Buck. Me too. Hey, why don’t I go make a pot of coffee and turn the TV on and you come join me once you’ve cleaned up a little?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, burying himself a bit closer into Steve’s embrace before pulling away and offering a grateful smile. “That sounds good.”

[falsegoodnight]

a new header??? it matches better <3 these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with a star (*). 

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 28th only

—

main list ~

✰ Don’t Wait Up by reliablyimperfect | NR | 1k

Without Harry’s warmth next to him, he felt the chill of the air creep over his skin. He tugged the blanket down from where Harry kept one draped over the back of the couch for him, grateful. With the blanket, he instantly felt warmer, but it backfired when his eyes began to droop again. Trying to keep his eyes open was impossible, and he was consciously aware of how long his blinks were becoming. They stay closed longer and longer until, eventually, they didn’t open again.

so soft and sweet and lovely! made my heart feel so warm <3 will return to this for some quick comfort in the future!

✰ my ugly mouth kept running by @hadestyles | E | 4k

Sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

rori’s lush writing + abo + exes to lovers = absolute perfection. my fic cameo gives it a bonus too :’) definitely one of my rori favs 

✰ i’ve loved you three summers now honey, i want them all by @softloubabie | M | 4k

The restaurant was small and bright, soft colors filled the walls and tables and fairy lights hung from everywhere. From what Harry had read, the food wasn’t overly expensive but it was still comparable to what you would get at one of the more expensive places. If Harry could he would take Louis to the biggest most expensive and extravagant restaurants to do what he planned to tonight, but this would do.

After being led to their table Harry nervously tapped his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the small box still there. Tonight was the night. He couldn’t wait till it was time to surprise Louis with all the gifts he got for him. Then finally the big surprise.

so cute and sweet! their kids were so adorable and the proposal so lovely!! they love each other so much <3

✰ love me in between the future and the past by navigator & quitter | E | 11k

Harry's scared of history repeating itself.

this honestly hurt to read but in such a raw and emotional way?? was mad at harry and then sad for him :( this writer duo’s fics never fail to amaze me!

✰ sunshine on my mind by @raspberryoatss | E | 13k

Louis visits Harry in Portland

this was so sweet and lovely! the perfect addition to this wonderful universe! pip’s characterizations and fluff never fails to make my heart feel warm <3

✰ rapture in the dark by @stylinsonsupporter | T | 13k

Harry Styles is a breakout musician who has shed his boyband label in favor of embracing his inner brooding rockstar. His PR team think that his rebrand is the perfect time for Harry to come out of the closet and have devised the perfect plan for doing so. Enter Louis Tomlinson, up and coming (and very openly homosexual) model whose public image as America's Sweetheart is the perfect foil for Harry's new edge. From a PR standpoint, it's a dream come true - a power couple that can slowly coax the public into accepting Harry's altered image. The only problem? They hate each other.

always love a good fake dating au and this is no exception! and model louis >> really enjoyed this!

✰ Maybe, Baby* by thoughtsickles | M | 16k | mpreg

It all feels too easy, too good to be true. It all feels like a scene from Louis' daydreams, the kind of life he'd always imagined he'd have when he was younger and bored at his momma's work, sneaking around the hallways of the maternity ward until the nurses let him in to hold the babies. He'd felt so important being allowed to touch them. He'd told them stories of the lives they were going to have, houses with nice wallpaper that wasn't peeling, yards filled with sunshine and flowers and grass that never went yellow. A hammock to nap in, cuddled up with his husband.

You can't stay here, he tells himself, but Baby doesn't want to listen.

have reread this one quite a bit of times now and it still makes me so happy <3 this Louis and Harry deserve the world <333

✰ Let Me Inside by reliablyimperfect | E | 18k

Louis is Harry’s boss, but Harry is the boss of Louis. 

loved this one! really enjoyed the balance between h&l and how they maintained their dynamic in subtle ways outside of the bedroom while also keeping it separate. very much enjoyed the jealousy as well <3

✰ a scintilla of predilection by @dehydratedpoolfics | T | 20k

There, in the far back of the room, next to the only available seat left, is none other than Harry Styles. Harry, who grew up next door to him, who knew all his secrets as a child and played FIFA with him on Saturday mornings after he would spend the night Friday evenings every week, whose curly hair would tickle his nose as they held each other during bitter cold nights that made his room glow a haunting blue.

love ex-childhood friends with misunderstandings!! louis was so cute and i loved his poetry <3 harry too was so stupid but so smitten and lovely :’) really enjoyed this!

✰ Keeping The Flame Alive by @crazyupsetter​ | E | 20k

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

✰ like it’s a game* by @soldouthaz | E | 32k

There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare.

And Louis.

queen of enemies to lovers! it’s been a while since i’ve reread this but too absolutely no surprise, it’s just as amazing as always <3 sarah never misses!

✰ Too Young To Know by @2tiedships2 | M | 35k

Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

really enjoyed this as per usual! exes to lovers is my jam and the added angst of Louis dating someone else at the beginning... love <3

✰ Some Things Take Root* by  navigator & quitter | E | 50k

Louis' ex doesn't get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

stumbled upon this randomly and decided to reread on a whim... ended up staying up to read it in one sitting! so good!

✰ Safe and Sound (You’ll Always Be) by @all-these-larrythings | E | 58k

When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

i don’t know how i’ve never read this before??? it was absolutely amazing though! perfect blend of humor and fluff and tension and angst <3

✰ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) by @youreyesonlarry | E | 74k

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. 

the slow burn in this fic killed me - which is to say, it was perfect! loved how they progressed from working together to being friends to something more and how much they genuinely cared for each other! the hockey was so fun too!

✰ Call Out My Name by frenchkiss | E | 102k

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

ellen truly knocked it out of the park with this one!! had everything i could ever want: abo, famous/non-famous, fluff, humor, angst, drama, and more! i loved it from beginning to end!

wips ~

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 64k | 7/11

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

am thoroughly enjoying each chapter!! it’s been a wild ride so far and although things are currently calm, i am still on edge!! but i trust mar with my life <3

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 83k | 8/16 

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

caught up last night! still really enjoying every chapter and can’t wait to see what happens next!! things are *happening* with h&l and answers are being given!! (love the jealousy too!)

non-1d ~

✰ Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by @princelouisau | E | 23k

Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love and in doing so, had broken the one rule he knew he couldn’t come back from. As quickly as he realised, he decided that he must never dare speak it. He resigned himself to loving Draco in silence.

first foray into reading drarry... and, to no one’s surprise, i loved it! beautiful writing as always and beautiful atmosphere! it’s really not a shock that i fell for these characters and their story when danielle is behind it <3 it had me entranced from beginning to end!!

finally, i myself actually posted a fic this month:

my fics ~

✰ yesterday came suddenly by me | E | 49k | mpreg 

Harry the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ OH, SHE ISN'T PLAYING ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY @ocetevasgirl: Hola preciosa! Can I request prompt 8 from the fluff list with Voight? Love you 💖

❚❙ PROMPTS: “You're jealous, aren't you?” “You're calling that jealousy? If she/he can still use her/his legs, I'm not being jealous”.

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you saw this morning Olivia Benson walking downstairs accompanied by Voight, your good mood got burned into ashes just in a sight. He hadn't told you that she was going to come and, actually, he hadn't why to tell you. For him, it's only part of his job. But you know it's something else for her. You have seen her how she looks at your man. The unjustified and unnecessary touches on his back, on his arm. The stupid smiles she draws to him, that you would be delighted of erasing using your fist.

You have never, ever, been the kind of jealous girl. You trust your boyfriend blindly, but you don't trust her. You can't. You have tried it with all your efforts, but then you heard her laughing for no reason and Hank responding with a fleeting smile. You haven't talked him about how you feel, because the age gap between both makes you look stupid sometimes. Fortunately, you're professional enough to not let these things affect your job and your relationship. You have learnt how to hide your emotions, even if sometimes your friends suspect that something is going on by the tic that makes you blink your left eye unconsciously.

Aware that he must be there with his amazing friend, Kim places a hand on your shoulder trying to encourage you to cross the entrance and come into the Molly's. Licking your lips as you calm yourself a little, you nod pushing the door to be embraced by the warm atmosphere inside it, covering you from the cold breeze of Chicago. Letting your eyes travel around the place, you greet some of your friends waving a hand, before landing your gaze on your boyfriend. He turns at that exact moment, not even trying to contain a smile. You show him another back, but his disappears when he sees you passing him away straight to the Unit's table without greeting him. And Olivia notices it, but you don't care.

“What's up, trouble?” Jay pulls down your hair, earning a laugh from you.

“Platt said you crashed a patrol”. Wrinkling your nose in a funny gesture, after Adam's words, you take a seat next to him.

“These aren't the things you have to learn from us, you know it, right?” Antonio makes you all chuckle, calling to his sister raising a finger to ask for more beers.

“I caught the bad guy, didn't I?”

“Yeah, crashing a car”. Atwater raises his eyebrows, leaning over the table.

“But I caught the bad guy, that's my job not to take care of the cars. I'm not a mechanic…”

“BUT A COP!” You all say in unison, as always, like a famous quote.

As soon as the beers arrive, you make another toast for your car lost in action. And everything is fun until you feel a presence behind you and the silence gets installed around your table. Gulping and licking your bottom lip, as your friends drink from their bottles trying to pretend that you all weren't doing what you were doing, you turn around over your stool forcing a smile.

“Having fun, officer (Y/L/N)?” Platt's voice gives you the kind of shivers you can hide.

“No, no, n— I mean… yes”. The look on her face causes you to swallow again. “I me—mean, no?”

“It's a simple question. Yes or no”.

“Trudy, leave the kid alone”.

Saved by the bell. Your hero.

“Crash a car is part of our tradition, ain't it?” Hank tries to put some humor in the situation, traveling his eyes from her to you.

“Hm”. The woman just replies, before walking away.

You don't know about what kind of tradition he is talking of, but at least he has saved your ass. Again. Not being able to look at him, you sip from your beer trembling yet. Probably, tomorrow Crowley will ask for a convincing explanation. I caught the bad guy will not work with her, that's for sure. Feeling a soft touch in your lower back, you raise your orbs from the bottle to your boss, who makes a brief move with his chin to point at the back door at the end of the bar. You don't want to go, you know exactly what it's going to happen and you just want to forget the intense day you have had. But he raises his eyebrows with that cockiness usual on him, about to drag you if you don't put down from your stool.

With an imperceptible sight, you end up obeying in silence under the attentive eyes of your friends. Hank walks behind you with both hands in the pocket of his jeans, as you wear your jacket to zip it above your chest. The fresh air hits your face once you reach the Molly's back alley, resting your back against the wall with your face bowed to your military black boots. Placing himself in front of you, he studies thoroughly your gesture, your lips pressed and the lack of eye contact.

“What's the matter?”

Shaking your head slightly, you cross one leg behind the other, putting your hands on your lower back.

“You're jealous, aren't you?”

Letting go an exaggerated chuckle, you roll your eyes before gluing them on him. “You're calling that jealousy? If she can still use her legs, I'm not being jealous”.

“It ain't a good moment to be sarcastic, sweetheart”.

“I'm not. She is just a colleague, right?”

Hank nods in silence tilting his head closer and you're sure he can hear your heart speeding up under your skin. He always does that, putting you nervous only to prove the power he has on you, on your body, on your senses. And you hate him. You hate how proud he feels because of it. The grin on his face causes a chill down your spine, standing up from the wall to pretend that he is wrong, that he doesn't control your reactions.

“Hm… Good to know you're conscious of her position. She's gonna stay in my house tonight. We didn't plan to need more than one day and she doesn't have a place”.

For a moment, the image of you punching his face runs your mind, keeping your hands inside the pockets of your jacket to close them in two fist until you feel your nails hurting your palms. There are a lot of replies to his words stuck in your throat, but if it's a proof of trust, you would fail miserably. This is a clash of titans and you're not going to let him win.

“That's fine”. You respond squinting at him, taking a step ahead almost facing Hank. “Anything else?”

“No”.

“Okay”.

With a feigned smile, you turn to the left to leave the alley and come back to your private party, which means to get drunk until Burgess and Hailey have to carry you home.

“What an interesting night is gonna be”. Hank whispers seeing you grabbing the doorknob, teasing you as only he knows how to do.

Kissing your lips as your steps stop dead, you turn your head about to lose your calm.

“If I see her putting a hand on your leg again, I'm gonna break every single fucking bone of her body”.

You couldn't help it. He knows exactly which words he has to use to push you to the edge. The worst part is the fun he usually has doing it. Walking towards you moving his head as if he was nodding, Hank caresses his bottom lip with a forefinger looking thoughtful.

“I didn't think of you as someone violent”.

“Fucking watch me, Voight”.

“Hm…”

Containing a laugh, he opens the door for you, pointing at the inside with a hand. Clearly challenging you. But before you can pass him away, the sergeant grabs your forearm to push you back and lean his lips over your ear.

“She booked the hotel yesterday”. His raspy voice touring your head makes you feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He has won already and you know it. Wanting to leave him again, he pulls you back again hearing the heavy snort escaping your mouth.

“She knows who you are. Told her this morning”.

Did really he? Arching up one of your eyebrows, you can't help but turn your face slightly at him. Your parted lips reveal the surprise and the confusion. Why can she know it, but not your friends? Just because she doesn't work in Chicago? It isn't fair. At least, under your opinion. It's not like you're going to act like Voight's girlfriend and take the advantage of what it means. But it allows you to smile at him when you cross your eyes in the hallways, it allows you to don't have to hide if you want to have lunch together, it allows you to not have to drive two different cars and leave his house before him to work. Small simple things that for you means a lot.

“Cut off the show, boss. Everybody is looking at us”.

It isn't the first time that Hank can't avoid touching you somehow in public, finding the stupidest excuse just to feel you. And he really enjoys putting you nervous, watching the way you lick your lips and bite the bottom one, feel the way your body gets tense when he lays his hands on you, the short frights he gives you coming behind you and whispering ‘officer (Y/L/N)’ in your ear.

Actually, there's no reason why you decided to hide your relationship. You haven't even talked about it. You haven't thought if it's because of the age gap, because of his past, because he is your boss (...). You haven't given it any importance, till you met Olivia Benson a couple months ago. That kind of sergeant who comes from New York and thinks that she runs the Chicago police department. Hank hasn't told you how they met, imagining they did when he was working on the Gang Unit.

“Admit your jealousy”. Tilting his head enough to look into your eyes, the challenging grimace comes back to his face.

Knowing that he's not going to stop, you simply nod. “It isn't fair that other women can… touch you, and I have to wait more than twelve hours just… simply to smile at you without looking suspicious”.

Hank can hear to perfection the hopelessness in your voice, feeling your fingers loosening his grip around your other forearm. It's not a question of possessiveness, but of insecurity; and he's discovering it now, thinking about since when you feel like that.

“Do you wan'me to take you home?”

You shake your head, now with guilt running under your skin because you know it has ruined his night.

“I'm okay, boss. Gonna have some fun with my friends after a long day”.

“Will you have some fun with your boss after that? End the night in my house playing pool, drinking whisky? I will let you win”.

You can't help but show him a fleeting smile, almost curving your lips. That's a yes for him and Hank feels satisfied. Holding your right hand on his, your boyfriend brings it to his mouth placing a tender kiss on the back of it, before letting you go.

Hailey and Burgess are squinting at you, knowing that their suspicions weren't wrong at all. Not saying a word and pretending normality, you sit back on your stool to have a sip from your beer. You're literally sweating right now, and it isn't because of the jacket you are wearing but because of the petty smiles appearing on the other cops.

“You know that we work in Intelligence, right, little trouble?” Antonio is the first one talking jokingly.

“Yeah, and we don't need to be detectives to know what's going on”. Hailey hums resting his arms over the table.

“How is Voight in private? I've always had curiosity. He takes off the stick of his ass when he comes home, or…?”

“Halstead, I can hear you”.

“Yeah, that was the intention, Sarge”. He replies, lifting up his beer in a silent toast.

Turning at Hank just for a second, you can't help but shrug with your eyebrows briefly frowned in a funny grimace that makes him giggle. It was inevitable, since they have seen the way and how close he has talked to you. But now, the pressure within your chest is dropping down, feeling better.

[yandere-sins]

Since your request's open, I was wondering if you could do a geralt yandere where he's in a village with darling, when the pair sees a pregnant couple. Darling makes the mistake of gushing over how lovely couple looks and how their child would look just as lovely. Geralt then takes this as darling wanting a child of their own. Since witchers can't technically have children, this frustrates him and makes him go a little feral back at home and just breeds darling into oblivion.

Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy ^-^

Rated Lemon

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««     

You were no newbie to the topic of sex. And surely no rookie to the feeling of Geralt’s cock buried inside you.

Still, he usually wasn’t as ferocious as he was that night. You two barely made it back to a tavern, his hands constantly all over you, grasping at what his gloved fingers could reach. Throwing you over his shoulder and navigating Roach into a designated spot, he only grunted, “Room,” at the innkeeper, throwing way too many coins into his direction before staggering upstairs in the next best private room with an open door.

Geralt was many things. A witcher most of the time, murderer to some. You’re always doting, a little possessive partner usually, and on some nights a lover. He’d never let you become what he was, but you were thankful for the guidance that he gave you after you traveled so long to meet him. To you, he was a legend, somewhat of a hero - even if other people didn’t see in him what you saw.

Perhaps, you were a little blinded by the holiness of traveling with the person you were praising to the heavens and back. Maybe it would have done you good to see the truth more clearly, realize what really was going on. It’s not like the love and admiration you felt was something you expected him to reciprocate, but you liked to imagine that the hints he showed you were his form of affection only for you. He cared, always keeping other people who gave you lecherous sideglances a good scare. And despite you being a burden and sometimes too rowdy for the companion of a witcher, he did his best to keep you around.

Surely you could do without getting strapped to Roach ever so often, so that he could keep you where you were and not follow him into dangerous areas. And admittedly, he took your words a bit too serious sometimes, buying you whatever you deemed ‘fancy’ and taking more than the usual odd job to pay for it. You also really couldn’t remember a night anymore without him watching you falling asleep, laying on top of you all night, and then greeting you even before you opened your eyes. It was intense some nights, where you insisted on sleeping on the floor or at least as far away as the bed allowed, Geralt just sighing and pulling you closer again. A war of tug that only ended with you back in his arms, suffocating by his embrace, standing no chance against muscles and knowledge of what would make you subdue to his strength.

Geralt also tended to misunderstand you - a lot. That morning you had sighed longingly at a small family of three, so happy as they taught the little toddler to walk. Not like you wanted a child or a to settle down, but you might have joked about how cute it would be if the two of you did build a family of your own someday. Had you known it would have caused the pressure in his pants, your hips grinding against his as he turned around and urged Roach back to a city with an inn, you would have worded it more carefully for sure.

But this way, you were out of options other than complying. Geralt always had a need for efficiency, and he usually did not waste time on minor things. While he still worked to strip himself out of gear and armor, his fingers were already tugged under your undies, freeing one leg of any hindrance like clothes. Part of you was well aware of what was happening, but it felt different than usual. Latest by the force he tugged at your ankle as you tried to move up the bed and make some space for him, you knew this wasn’t what you could expect from laying with him.

Parting your legs, this clearly wasn’t the love-making you were used to, glove barely off his fingers as he pushed his digits in to test the waters. You flinched, self-lubrication being a wonder of nature, but not always the most reliable form of self-help. Reaching for his wrist, you tried to pry him out again when his second hand snaked behind your neck, pushing you forward and against his lips, rough and demanding.

He at least changed the number of fingers to one as he pumped it in and out of you, trying to arouse his hole. Still wearing more clothes than usual, the fabric brushing up against your thighs with the harshness of worn-out cotton, sending stings of pleasure up your nerves. His hair fell in your face, and before you knew it, you were breathing him in more than you were getting air to supply your body with, falling victim to the man.

When he finally laid you down, you were enticed with his touches, seduced by the feeling of his lips and tongue crawling down your skin from your lips to your collarbones, nipping at your shoulder. Hands came up to caress your nipples, pushing the annoyance that was your shirt aside for access. You couldn’t notice the goosebumps that appeared on his skin when your first moan escaped you, no one else but you bringing this kind of tickle over him these days. It was a desirable sound, urging him on, telling him that what he was doing was right, and he was quick to free his stiff member from his trousers, having waited long for the meal you were to his troubled desires.

Because truth be told, after all this time, you were only the fourth person ever to bring quite this joy into his life. And Geralt was planning to taste as much as possible from it. His rational brain told him that the idea you had put into his head was absurd, but maybe the faintest hint of hope came from his heart, that, perhaps, he might get you pregnant if he tried hard enough.

When his hips approached yours, your legs willingly parted further, though the feeling of his tip entering you still forced you to whine. Luckily, he was well-endowed, but with your body calling out that something wasn’t right, you weren’t quite ready to accept him yet. Most of the time, you were at least a bit drunker than that night. One time you two did it to get rid of an awful spell when one of his potions broke. There was always something to relax you - just this time, you were bareback and well aware.

Not heeding your ragged breaths, he forced himself inside, groaning over the tightness of your cunt as he spread your walls. You bit your lip in the weirdest feeling of pain and pleasure, legs flinching as if they were ready to kick him off. This feeling was new, and you weren’t all to sure you liked just how little he seemed to care as he began to pull out and push in right away. Hands pushing against his chest, you pleaded for him to give you a moment, his movements hurting you internally. “H-Hold on, give me a moment!”

But no matter how hard you gripped the shirt he was wearing, Geralt didn’t slow down, much less stopped. Forced to fold your arm, the witcher leaned down, bodies rubbing together, and stealing your breath as he kissed you again, tongue slipping in. It only got more unbearable as he caged you in between his arms on both sides, stinging eyes looking down at you, showing you your miserable reflection, an expression on your face that clearly wasn’t as willing as it sounded when you did a half-moan, half-sob.

However, no matter your attempts to stop him, he wasn’t one to stray away, too deep in it, and in you, to stop anymore. In an inefficient wiggle to get free, you heard the low rumble of a groan in his chest, followed by a couple pulsating pushes into you. Before you knew it, he shifted, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. Warm spurts of hot cum shot right into insides, coating your walls, adding some fake lubrications to the already irritated flesh.

You were relieved once he took a few breaths and proceeding to sit up again, thinking it was over. But the sudden grip on your thighs was something you did expect, and you struggled as he pushed your legs back, never having excited your pussy completely. Legs over his shoulders, he used them to continue to fuck you, holding on to them roughly with his fingers digging into your skin.

Geralt’s cock slit in and out easier of you now, cum bubbling on your entrance and spurting out with every hard thrust he did. Altering his technique a little, he started to grind his cock into you, his tip pushing up against your abdomen and low into your bowels, making you squeal whenever he managed to hit a new and sensitive spot.

“W-Wait, at least give me a break!” you demanded, but his answer was an inaudible mutter, followed by his grunts and the smacking sound of your hips. You were given no break as you couldn’t help a toe-curling orgasm as his member forced it’s way up to your cervix, kissing the entrance with force upon every push into you.

In the blink of an eye, Geralt spun you around, a moan escaping you as he gripped your asscheeks hard, pulling your entrance smack against the end of his shaft. With force and diligence, he wiggled his way forward into you, knowing that if he wanted to make any difference, he had to bring his semen as far as he could. Your body too recognized the breeding position, but you were to weak to resist under him, victim to his hips smacking and grinding into you, cock threatening to burst its way into your womb. And at least the hot strings of cum managed to get inside, despite if they’d impregnate you or not.

“Don’t say you didn’t want this,” he mumbled into your ear as he hovered over you, giving you little personal space or time before he resumed his grinding. Lips pressed down your shoulders, smothering them in pecks and kisses while you rode the waves of pleasure. “You know I’d do anything for you. You shouldn’t test me by saying you want a family.”

All he needed to do was pull you up by your arm to turn you onto your back again, satisfied eyes watching him through the shine of tears. “Next time, just be honest if you want to be bred so badly, no need to hide it behind the idea of a family that you know we can’t have.”

It was a low effort to slip into you again, your walls instantly clenching down hard on the overstimulation. “I-” he grunted, pulling your hips onto his, not minding the bruises his hands will leave on your skin. “-would do anything for you. Just say the word.”

And with his final orgasm, Geralt finally pulled out, having to watch all his effort slowly beginning to drip out and stain the rented bedsheets. Maybe, so he thought, plugging you up and hoping for a wonder would do well, your abdomen lovingly swollen under the multiple cumshots he had put into you. Reaching for an empty glass bottle for his potions, he pulled out the cork in it, opening up your hole with two fingers before slipping it inside under the weak protest of your mouth that ended in a sigh.

You were pulled snug against his body as he settled down next to you, taking a sip of wine he found at the bedside table, and making a mental note to give another tip to the innkeeper later just so you two wouldn’t be damned for all eternity. But with a sense of satisfaction did he watch the little swelling under your tummy, caressing it with his hand under your shallow gasps. Kissing your temple, he pulled a blanket over you, happy with just holding you in his arms that night while you lost conscience. You were unable to think for yourself anymore as you sighed in his hold, just relieved to have someone to lean on after going through such a carousel of emotions, unsure how you two would be able to proceed after experiencing this.

Unsure if he had other plans with you, once you woke up again even.

[antigoneidk]

falling in love in nyc|p.p.

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: sometimes deep connections lead to fast and strong feelings.

warnings: fluff

___

It all happened fast. You were just a girl with dreams that came to a big city hoping that you could live the life you always wanted. Study in your favourite college, find true friends, get money, rent your own apartment with a view, take risks, get drunk, drive around blasting to music, be independent.

He was a boy with the same dream. To move to New York, study science, hanging around with his friends 'till the sun comes up, find new hobbies, get new experiences, feel free from other responsibilities.

None of you had plans for finding love any time soon. You were so busy planning your future, he was hurt from the past. There was no room for falling.

It was 2:37, a cool summer Friday night-morning-when your worlds collide. You had your hair down, a little mascara and some lip gloss on your lips. Your fingers intertwined with your friend's one while she was singing lyrics from a song and you were laughing at her voice breaks.

He was wearing his old jeans and a dark green shirt combined with white sneakers. His eyes red due to his heavy schedule and the lack of sleep. His ears buzzing on the inside, his friends on the side making his pain worse.

He catched your eyes, his vibe different from what you had seen all this time staying there, sending waves that had some sort of a power towards you, a magic you didn't know that existed. How his slightly curled hair fell in front of his face, how his hands rested in his pockets, how his brown eyes landed on yours.

It felt wrong to just let him pass you just like that. It felt almost illegal to let him leave and never see his face again. He had this style that you swore it matched yours. Two souls that found each other out of nowhere and could vibe together.

You took the risk. You let go of your friend and turned around to face him walking slowly far away. "Hey" you shouted and saw all four boys turning your way and stopping their movements. You started making your way towards them, the girl behind you following in silence, surprised by your actions but in a good way.

"Hey" you heard him saying as he took a step forward. He was feeling the same attraction as you. His spidey sense hitting red. He scanned your body while you were walking, he could feel the nervousness from miles away.

"Um-I am y/n" you extended your hand waiting for his.

"I'm Peter. Nice to meet you" he grabbed your cold hand, his warm one sending shivers down your spine. You were just realizing what you were about to do, it was too late though.

"I know it might sound crazy but do you guys wanna join us? We were just walking around the city. Not something special you know. But if you guys are going somewhere I'm so sorry for-"

"No we are not going somewhere specifically. I just want to know why we should come with you girls and not just continue our own road?"

"Do we look like the bad guys?"your friend made her debut, all of them shaking their heads in denial. "Then why not? See it as an opportunity to make new friends in this big ass city" her confidence was a a trait you were jealous of and blamed yourself for not working for it more.

"I'm down" Peter said, your smile taking his breath away. You seemed like the most beautiful creature nature could make to him. Who would have thought that New York City could hide as as beauty as you?Or him?

"So? What are we waiting for? LETS GO!" all of them jumped and started walking the direction you were following moments ago, a laugh escaping your friends lips as she started talking with them.

And you followed few steps behind with the mysterious boy next to you. It was awkward at first, asking him questions about his life, his interests, what was he studying for. It felt like you taking an interview from a celebrity, trying to figure out everything, absorbing as much informations as possible.

The sunrise found you in Times Square sitting next to a fountain getting deep about life in general. How much people can change if they really want to, how cruel world is and how you can find people that worth more that gold.

Your eyes couldn't focus anywhere but him. His mouth opening and closing, his nose scrunching whenever he was referring to his past-and you were dying to learn more-, his pale skin shining under the lights, his eyes glowing while talking about his goals, what he had achieved and what he hoped he would in the near future.

His mind was trying to process the fact that a stranger had already made him feel stuff. An excitement for this new girl that so unexpectedly entered his life. He bit his lower lip whilst you explained to him the reasons you moved so far away from your hometown to pursue your dreams. How passionate you seemed about that, how grateful you were for that decision of yours.

And when your hands accidentally touched. When you bit the inside of your mouth, your hand moving back towards your body, his fingers running through his golden hair, both nervous from the sudden touch. Electricity hitting all your nerves, your body tensed.

And the days passed. Overthinking everything over again and again. In the morning, while at class, at the lunch break, during homework, at night before sleeping just to wake up and re-think everything one more day. He was a distraction, in every person you passed you could see his face, hear his voice calling your name like he was just few steps away.

And when you would actually see him, your heart not being able to stop, your cheeks hurting from smiling for that long. The need of hold his hand just for one second, to bury yourself inside his arms and stay there smell him 'till you can't anymore, to feel his warmth embracing you becoming bigger and stronger.

Peter was dying knowing everytime that he won't hold you like he wished he could. He wouldn't feel your soft hair with the palm of his hand. He couldn't kiss your lips, taste your mouth, pull you close to his body.

It was getting really lonely. Nothing seemed like before, it was like colors didn't exist anymore, like every thing was dead. The food didn't have taste, friends were boring, classes seemed like a torture, the nights cold under the bedsheets. This town was not interesting if he wasn't with you. If you weren't with him.

That was when you became aware of the fact that you had started to fall in love with him. Really bad.

Fast forward three months later. You invited him over, one bottle of your favorite drink and the lights from the building around light the room you were sitting on. Your head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you keeping you close to him. You laughed at his jokes, listened to him talking about nothing really-not that you were paying attention, just enjoying his company more that ever and how only his voice could calm you. And he felt like the world was next to him, all the things he dreamed of were inside his arms. However he felt like he was far, far away from you, broken and hopeless.

There was a moment of silence.

Do it. Just do it.

"Y/n?"Peter whispered your name. You moved slightly your body hypnotized by him and searched for his eyes.

"Yeah?"

A deep breath was all it took for him."I think this is a good time to kiss you"

His eyes straight to yours. Your lips apart, surprised, excited, scared, happy, fearing that this was an hallucination, that you were starting to hear things.

You stood still at the same time the palm of his hand cupped your face, his action making the butterflies on your stomach dance around.

Take the risk.

You closed the gap between the two of you. Your lips connected with his. Your eyes closed shut, the feeling of him so close to you hard to get used to. Was this a dream? You didn't know but it happened.

He took the control and you just followed his moves, your heart skipping a beat when his other hand held your waist. It was better from what you had imagined. Way better. And you wanted to cry from happiness. All of your emotions getting exposed. You felt naked. Yet completed.

And that's how you fell in love. In New York city. With a stranger that was named Peter Parker. And his secrets waiting for you.

*this was written while listening to this playlist and just get sad and in love*

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ETMalu3TCTHqkW4wXTtEx?si=VYljQ8VlTlKFGRlpXLmIng

[narutowtfareyoudoing]

Hello! Welcome to the world of Naruto imagines! Can't wait to see more stuff from you guys, I already love what I see haha ❤ anywho, could we pretty please get headcanons for how the sand siblings would handle falling in love with their best friend(the reader)? Like, maybe they aren't sure if their BFF could ever feel the same way, how would each of them handle that? Hide their feelings forever, or eventually tell them bc they can't take it, or what? Just want your HCs on the topic, thanks!❤

So I assumed it’s implied that their BFF also likes them back. Also I’m so sorry that this request is so old. My apologies.

—

Gaara

Gaara treasures you in every meaning of the word. Besides Naruto and his own siblings you were one of the first people in the Sand Village to accept him, one of the first to congratulate him on becoming Kazekage.

He’s still getting used to his own emotions after years of being practically deprived of them so he was slow to realize his ever growing feeling for you until one day. Boom. Helplessly in love. 

He’s tried to trace back to exactly when this happened but there’s no exact date

It could’ve been all those long hours you’d spend with him in the Kazekage office keeping him in good company.

Maybe it happened when you started bringing lunches to him and you’d have small little lunch dates.

Perhaps it was when you gifted him a small cactus for his birthday. It sat on the corner of his desk and served of a constant reminder that he had friends who cared about him.

Had it been even earlier than that? Could it have happened when you’d given him a hello hug? 

Had it been the telltale love at first sight? 

He’d likely never properly know. 

And he’d certainly never tell you about it. He’d forever hold his peace on the subject. Uncertainty simply being to great of a risk to overcome.

He cared for you too much to ever run the risk of scaring you off. He’d come up with dozens of reasons to justify never telling you his hearts greatest desire.

He was the Kazekage and if you were to be with him that would make you a target, on top of that being the Kazekage ate up his life he simply didn’t have the time you deserved to give to you. He knew next to nothing about the world of romantic love and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to tend to you in the ways you would need. Emotionally and Physically. 

The only person he’d ever breathed a word of his feeling for you to was Kankuro. He’d opened up to him when he didn’t understand what he was feeling and Kankuro had been the one to tell him he was in love. 

And Kankuro knew something that was clear to nearly everyone else besides Gaara. You loved his back. It was so desperately clear, Kankuro would never understand how you two were so oblivious. 

Kankuro wasn’t about to let the love of his little brothers life slip away and he knew there was nothing he could tell Gaara to convince him confess and certainly nothing he could do physically to make him tell you.

So Kankuro himself just told you. 

Finding out Gaara was just as in love with you as you were with him made your heart sing and before you knew it your feet were moving.

It wasn’t unusual for you to visit Gaara in his office, the guards let you by without so much as a glance but it was however very unusual for you to just go in without knocking first.

The sudden intrusion startled him and left you a little flustered as you realized you’d barged in here without thinking of what to say. 

His first reaction made sense, he stood up from his chair and asked. “Are you hurt?” “No.” “In danger?” “No.” “Do you require something?” “No.”

Every no just confused him even further as he stared at you and settled on being quiet, he sat back down slowly and patiently waited. Surely you’d tell him what was going on if he gave you the chance.

Your face got hot in the quiet as you desperately tried to think but the thumping of your heart weighed out any rational thoughts.

So without a plan you walked over to him. 

He watched you with careful eyes, unsure of what had come over you, nothing dangerous but the look in your eyes and your flushed face left him grasping for answers.

He instead got a question as you rounded his desk to stand beside him.

“Wanna go on a date?” 

It was all you could think of.

He stared at you wide eyed for a moment, for once his monotone stoic voice failing him. You were asking him on a date? Did that mean…?

You offered out your hand as your heart started to beat with panic instead of excitement. 

He slowly reached over and took your hand in his as his answer since his heart seemed to be caught in his throat. His entire body felt warm in a way that was very different than the desert heat. He got up, paperwork completely forgotten and his undivided attention on you. 

A rare smile slowly appearing on his face as you laced your fingers with his…and now maybe he could pinpoint when he’d fallen deeply in love with you.

Kankuro

Year’s of dealing with his once unstable little brother and the harsh demands of the Sand Village Shinobi would make one think that Kankuro was unshakable, that it would’ve given him nerves of steel and in battle there was no question about that. But here? Standing in front of your house? He could be mistaken for a quivering child.

His feelings weren’t new to him. He’d been aware of his ever growing crush on you for a long time now.

He hadn’t even been bashful about his flirting. He complimented and teased you nearly daily.

And every time you’d throw your head back and laugh, hit his arm and tell him cut it out between giggles. 

Every time he’d join you in laughing but there would be a slight sting to his ego as you lightheartedly rejected his compliments.

He knew it wasn’t out of malice, outside of the battle field he wasn’t sure if you even had a mean bone in your body so he never pressed his compliments any further. 

Until today.

He’d been out with Temari when he spotted you. Talking to a couple of nobody low level Shinobi…laughing…hitting their shoulders like you hit his and hopelessness wrecked his stomach.

“How many times have I told you that you’re not the only one who noticed that Y/N is a great catch?” Temari asked.

She knew she had to say something to light a fire under her brothers ass since he’d let all her friendly advise go in one ear and straight out the other. She sometimes wondered if there was anything in that head of his.

Her words turned the hopelessness in his stomach into pure and unbridled jealousy.

Left with no rational thoughts he marched over to you and threw his arm around your shoulders, demanding your attention. 

You were happy to see him but a little wary of the attitude he seemed to be toting. 

“Hey, Y/N I was just looking for you, come on.” He said completely ignoring the people you’d been talking to, trying to pull you away from them.

“Wow, it is important? I was talking to–” “Anything is more important than talking to these two punks.” He laughed.

But you didn’t find it funny at all.

You moved his arm from around you and shoved him off. “What’s your problem?” You demanded.

“My problem?” He scoffed. “I don’t have a problem! These two punks do! Can’t you see the way they’re looking at you? Come on, I know you’re not stupid.”

Embarrassed and angry you didn’t say anything. You just left.

There was that hopelessness. Back in full swing. Making him realize every jealousy fueled word he said was beyond idiotic…oh no, what’d he done? 

“You know that was impressively stupid…did you think at all that entire time?” Temari asked. Making sure her brother got the message in case it had somehow escaped him how stupid he’d been.

It hadn’t escaped him at all.

The entire day his heart was dangling by his feet, any time he started to feel anything else his psyche reminded him of his mistake and a whole knew wave of distress would wash over him.

He tried to distract himself with work but only felt worse when he stumbled onto the puppet he was helping you build. It was crude at best and instead of a menacing face it had a goofy one you’d decorated with his purple face paint.

And as memories of your friendship were brought to the forefront of his mind he knew he couldn’t just sit around and risk losing his best friend.

So here he was, terrified of explaining himself to you. Terrified of not only losing a romantic relationship with you but maybe even your friendship.

He took a deep breath and knocked on your door but when you answered it his deep breath was shot right out of him, his confidence barely standing an inch tall. And all the words he’d thought of were gone.

“Wow, Temari was right, you look terrible.” You teased nodding a little.

“What?” He could’ve hit himself for such a dumbfounded response.

“Temari came by…said she couldn’t stand your loud melancholy moping any longer.” 

And he froze up as he thought of all the things Temari could’ve told you. Was his secret out? Did you hate him?

“You know, usually you just ask a girl out on a date maybe get her some flowers. Being a tool isn’t really the best way to go about it.” And there wasn’t any anger in your tone, it was soft if not a bit teasing.

A smile grew on his face as he realized what you were saying. His heart racing and his confidence sky rocketing as he asked. “So dinner?”

Temari

How had this happened? One day you were her fellow Kunoichi, woman in arms, best friend and now…the love of her life?

It hit her like a kunai to the chest.

You two were just sitting in her room, painting each others toe nails, laughing and enjoying a room that wasn’t filled with testosterone. 

It felt like a safe space where neither of you had to be tough to prove yourselves has hardened Kunoichi. You just got to be yourselves.

And who knew her better than you? No one. 

You’d been best friends for what like felt like forever, you’d been there for her through everything. Someone she could count on and talk to no matter what. You’d just always been there with warm open arms.

All her secrets she knew were safe with you so when you asked the simple question. “Got a crush on anyone?” It shouldn’t have rocked her world the way it did.

She even laughed at the question at first. “I don’t know.” She giggled. “Come on, you’ve gotta have a crush on someone.” You further prodded 

“I don’t even know if I’ve ever had a crush on someone, I’m way too busy with missions.” She insisted.

“So there’s no one that makes your heart skip a beat? No one that when you look at them the world gets quiet and it all makes sense? No one that makes you feel safe? No one you look at and go ‘Gods you’re a gift.’?” You teased.

She froze up as she thought through the questions and all the answers were the same: You.

You saw the way she froze up, words dying in her throat as she looked away from you. “You alright?”

You reached over to rub her shoulder but she hit your hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Her words were harsh and laced with venom. 

“What?” “In fact get out, leave” “What?!” “I said leave!”

And so you left…unbeknownst to her you took her heart with you.

She felt psychically ill, her stomach ached and her head throbbed as she tried to make sense of all the emotions that clashed inside of her.

The clash of raw emotions however never had a victor as she swallowed down her feelings, refusing to be some fussy, dramatic teenage girl. No, never. She refused to be ruled by her emotions

The only way to keep her feelings from overwhelming her was to stay as far away from you as possible. Demanding Gaara change her mission partner from you to anyone else, dodging your favourite restaurant, the training grounds, anywhere you two had memories she refused to go.

But she couldn’t escape her own room. No matter how many missions she went on eventually she ended up at home. Where her heart ached.

She pushed it all down though, letting her stoic and cold shell keep her together…keep her safe from love and all it’s aches.

Or so she thought.

Who would’ve guessed that nail polish would be the rock hurtled at her that would shatter her glass exterior?

Painful tears gave her no choice as they rolled down her face as she looked at the last bits of chipped black polish on her toes. The last thing you two had ever done together.

Without you it felt like there was no one to turn too, no shoulder for her to rest her weary head, no warm inviting arms to hug her pieces back together…no you to speak of.

She couldn’t go to her little brothers. She was the oldest, she wasn’t supposed to break like this, she could never let them see her like this.

But after months of her heart suffering in silence it seemed Hellbent to be heard in the extreme.

It screamed memories at her, leaving her with no choice but to relive them. Memories of you two danced behind her eyelids like a movie she couldn’t turn off.

The time’s you’d put your life on the line for her during missions, when you’d cheered her on at the Chunin exams, the countless hours you’d spent in this very room, when you’d made her a little fan as a joke, your smile and your laughter tormented her aching heart.

But the last straw? The idea that there would be no future memories to make.

She’d lived though so much heartbreak. She’d watched her mother die, her father become a monster, she’d watched as Gaara had gone deeper and deeper into darkness and even as he’d changed and gotten better all this had left scars on her heart…she just didn’t want love to hurt her anymore.

It left her vulnerable and if she was vulnerable she could get hurt.

But where had this plan taken her? Her heart ached in a way it never had before, it cried out so loudly it practically deafened her. 

She left her house, desperate to just make it all stop.

Blurred vision didn’t let her see where she was going but her feet carried her to the one place she knew she’d be able to feel better.

Her body practically slammed into the door as she lost sight of her footing, tears robbing her of any semblance of where she was.

Warm arms wrapped around her and there was no mistaking them, no mistaking your embrace.

You’d been so ready to yell at her the next time you saw Temari, give her Hell for everything she’d put you through but seeing her a crying pile at your door in the middle of the night? That all disappeared and all you wanted to do was hug your best friend.

In your arms her heart finally relented and let her feel what love can truly do: Heal. 

It would be a long uphill battle but a spark of hope warmed her chest. 

Maybe this love wouldn’t break her heart. Maybe love could be for her as long as she was with you.

—

~Admin Coral.

Buy Me A Coffee?

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

Please tell me more about Autistic Syd, I thought I was the only one who had this head canon, I just can't place why I do

Hi!! I need to make more Syd gifs but for now, this one works for everything Syd related tbh because I love it.

Okay, I guess this is my excuse to finally write a meta for Syd. :) First off, all of this rambling about my headcanons for them has to come with the giant warning that because we don’t have a ton of information about Syd except through their relationship with Elena, I’m well aware that this is conjecture and hunches and I can’t always point to specific aha! evidence as to why I interpret them the way I do. In some cases it really is as simple and as complicated as ‘I’m on the spectrum and this thing feels like me, ergo Syd seems Autistic too but you won’t exactly find the thing in the diagnostic criteria.’

Okay, so what do we know about Syd? They’re big into social justice, nerdy fandom, and Elena. They’re also not super good at reading nuanced or complicated social cues, a potential Autistic clue. A lot of what we see between them and Elena when conflict arises is that they either expect Elena to know what they mean even when they’re not expressing it very clearly (Benihana’s), or they misunderstand Elena’s behavior and from it draw the wrong conclusion (the cookie, the lockdown). Now, granted, miscommunication happens to neurotypical people too…but it’s definitely an Autistic flag for me, especially when you can see it in Syd compared to Elena, who is also a social justice and fandom nerd, but who trips herself up in other ways (usually anxiety and inexperience).

What about social norms more broadly? We know that Syd is homeschooled, though we don’t know why. It could be their parents’ choice for all kinds of reasons, or it could have been decided that homeschooling would be the best way to educate Syd and/or their brother for reasons having to do with the kids. We don’t know, because we know nothing really about their home life. Either way, Syd is a loveable weirdo but capable of getting along with others, including new people. They may approach socializing in an unconventional way (see Alex and the zombie video), but they clearly make online friends well enough and seem fairly comfortable among groups of people (like Elena’s family).

It’s impossible to tell whether their quirkiness makes homeschooling a good fit for them, or if being homeschooled helped make them quirky. But I’m not willing to rule out the possibility that Syd’s parents chose homeschooling to support their Autistic needs and sensitivities while they were growing up. The reality is, older Autistic kids aren’t always the media cliches you see of people who rock in a corner and don’t respond to others. Everyone’s different, and a lot of us develop strategies to pass as somewhat neurotypical, or as close as we can manage…and especially those of us assigned female at birth (which it seems like Syd was) who are less commonly diagnosed than Autistic boys, we can get really good at it. I spent my entire school career being considered a freak–overenthusiastic, incapable of controlling my emotions and thoughts, different from everyone else in a thousand tiny ways that nobody could have pinpointed but everybody recognized–but nobody ever thought I might be developmentally disabled. I navigated things well enough that I was just ‘weird.’ With a caring and supportive home environment that also doubled as school, Syd might have reached the same place by the time they were sixteen.

Also, while Syd is comfortable around Elena’s family and in public places like the school dance, they seem pretty introverted too. Faced with a party, they’re more likely to dive into a magazine or escape to the balcony as they are to make small talk. Their interactions with Alex, one-on-one, seem much more comfortable, but that may be because they already have the established common ground of Elena that makes it easier for them to engage in conversation. Introversion also does not automatically equal Autism, but being Autistic can look a lot like introversion, in a social context. I hate small talk and tend to be quiet at parties until I find one person I actually want to talk to, and then I tend to be very animated and never shut up. Sound at all like Syd with Alex, once talking to Elena fizzled out?

Something I’ve found to be true in my own experience is that Autistic people, who have to learn social norms that come easily to other people, are capable of seeing them for the arbitrary boundaries they are. The fact that gender is a social construct is something that’s always made perfect sense to me, because as a society we make all the rules up–and the less sense they make to Autistic people, the more aware of that we are. Breaking them is a choice, rather than some kind of defiance of a perfect higher order. In other words, if Syd is Autistic, that might have helped them become as comfortable as they seem to be in their own skin and identity, accepting their nonbinary nature rather than feeling the need to fight it.

Syd definitely fits the Autistic traits of having specific interests and being logically oriented. They’re not especially rigid or obsessive about them, though, that we see. Their reasons for not telling Elena their sexual history before they’re in the hotel together follows Syd’s own internal logic, whether it makes sense to anyone else or not. And they have some intense interests, that span a range of geeky fandoms. But we don’t see any narrow focus and deep well of knowledge about one area. I certainly know from personal experience that fandom can be a special interest, and if we knew more about Syd outside their relationship with Elena, we might learn that they do have one passion that they’ve spent years fixated on. The big ask shows us that they’re creative in an eccentric, enthusiastic way, which always gets my attention for potential spectrum qualities.

We don’t see any obvious sensory issues with Syd. They don’t show any unusual sensitivities to foods or clothing textures, loud noises, etc. They do have a slightly unusual voice, a little flat in tone with less expressiveness, which can be an Autistic trait.

One other trait that codes Syd as Autistic is their relationship to honesty. Unlike Elena, who sometimes lies, Syd is persistently honest. The traits that make them unusual, even ones that might seem unflattering, they are nothing but upfront about. And they’re trusting, taking others at their word as well. After knowing Elena for months and never once hearing about or meeting any of her friends, they completely believe her lie that she’s popular at school, when other people would have been naturally suspicious. This could be because they are young and in love and want to see the good in the world around them…or it could be because they tell the truth and expect the same from everyone else. When you go from ‘likes to believe that people are honest’ to ‘never even considers the possibility of lying as something people could do,’ that’s a significant spectrum quality.

Now, honestly, based solely on what we see of Syd in canon, are they Autistic? It’s kind of impossible to tell for sure. We just don’t know enough about their home life and how they are when they’re not with Elena, to say with total certainty one way or the other. If they are Autistic, they definitely only display mild traits on the show. No repeating words a lot, stimming, avoiding crowds or small talk, etc. But since every Autistic person is different, and lots of spectrum kids grow up with behavioral therapy support now and learn much better coping mechanisms than I did at Syd’s age, it’s entirely possible they could be Autistic even without showing more intense, ‘classic’ signs in their limited screentime.

So personally, I like my headcanon that Syd may be Autistic. Because whether they are or not, they are definitely a giant, wonderful nerd–and the kind of character I would enjoy sharing a common experience like Autism with, when it’s so often portrayed on TV in ways that are hurtful or unrealistic.

tl;dr Syd definitely has some traits that could be read as Autistic; we don’t see them enough to know for sure; I claim them as one of ours anyway because they’re awesome so I say you can too, if you want :)

[faejilly]

So, how about some Malec kissing with a dash of h/c? Like, Alec being in pain for whatever reason (injury, migraine) and Magnus being unable to help (bc it's canon compliant with 3a and he doesn't have magic anymore: Alec doesn't want him to waste his magic: magic can't heal it - writer's choice), and Magnus is worried/guilty but Alec's just content to have him near by to cuddle with and kiss because, "his kisses are the best kind of pain relief," and Magnus is reluctantly charmed? - Bohemian

is Magnus ever reluctantly charmed by Alec anymore though? He’s still occasionally SURPRISED but I’m pretty sure he looks forward to it happening. 

ANYWAYS. This is not even a little bit what you asked for. I shall attempt some proper h/c again later, but when I attempted reluctantly charming and comforting kisses I got this instead, which takes place sometime in early s2.

Because balconies! And tea! And maybe some parabatai issues. Or something. I am perhaps a bit predictable when it comes to preferred themes. #sorry

"I'm not in love with Jace."

Magnus stills his steps, feels his toes curl in his shoes. His elbow brushes against the glass behind him as he steadies. He exhales, his breath joining the shift of cool night air against his face.

"I never was."

Alec isn't looking at him, but his voice is steady and even. His fingers move against the fire-escape railing, but the shift is slow, almost graceful; it looks like he's grounding himself with the touch, not that he's nervous.

What a thought that is, that Alexander Lightwood grounds himself here rather than anywhere else, with anyone else. Magnus swallows. His chest aches, and something in his eyes burns. He blinks, makes sure he can feel his glamour as solid as ever.

"That's not why I missed him. That wasn't why I was such a..." Alec's grip on the railing tightens, and the fidget in his hands shudders all the way up to his shoulders before he manages to shrug. "I'm sorry."

"You said that already, and I meant it when I accepted it." Magnus keeps his voice low, trying to encourage without interrupting too much. "I have met parabatai before. I am aware that it is, shall we say, intense?"

"I just." Alec pauses again. Magnus takes one careful step closer to Alec's perch on the stairs. "You're not some sort of... rebound, or second choice, or anything like that."

"I never thought—"

Alec makes a sharp sort of grunt in the back of his throat, and Magnus stops talking, goes back to listening. "I don't know if you need to hear it, but I need to say it."

Alec looks up at last, his eyes bright despite the darkness of the sky above them. "I'm gay."

It hangs in the air, and Magnus realizes this is probably the first time Alec ever actually said it out loud, possibly the first time he let himself say it at all, even just to himself. And he's sharing it with Magnus, this first time, not with his family. Magnus can't help but smile as the ache in his heart blossoms outward, pressure easing and warming into dangerously soft affection. "And thank god for that."

Alec snorts, which seems to ease the tension that hunches his back. "Not the reaction I'd get if I said that at h—back at the Institute. Even now that they all know."

Magnus tilts his head, wonders if Alec had almost called the Institute home, wonders how long it hasn't been, wonders how often Alec still calls it such a thing that is so very untrue.

"Being gay is one of those deep dark secrets that no one ever reveals. One of those things we don't say. One of those things Shadowhunters aren't."

Magnus wants to step closer again, wants to pull Alec into his arms, wants to soothe the line of his shoulders with his hands, as if that could smooth away a lifetime of hatred and disdain. His fingers flex and curl by his sides, but he resists anything more. Alec doesn't look like he's done, like he's reached the point he wants to make. Magnus is not sure he'd forgive himself if he spooked Alec now. He's not sure this fragile almost-relationship would survive such a precedent.

"I knew that, of course. Everyone knew that, even if they didn't say it, but I didn't feel bad about being gay. Not like I was supposed to."

Magnus lifts his eyebrows, can't hold in the soft questioning hum. Alec is deeply mired in self-hatred, it clearly still weighs him down, no matter how dramatic a change he granted himself at his almost wedding.

Alec smiles, small and crooked, as if he knows what Magnus is thinking. "When I was six I wanted to marry Nathan Ashkeep because it made me happy when he laughed and I thought that way he could come to New York with us and stay forever."

Magnus laughs, his breath escaping in a soft uneven stutter.

Alec's smile widens. "Your laugh is even better."

Magnus waves a hand, half-acceptance, half-dismissal. He feels flushed and awkward and delighted, all at once. He wonders how much of that makes it onto his face, how much Alec can see, even in the dim lighting.

Alec sighs, his smile fades. "There wasn't anything wrong in that, I knew it was innocent. It wasn't any different than when Izzy hugged Mateo Redhaven and dragged him over for dinner as often as possible. Everyone thought that was adorable, not just me."

"What changed?"

"Some of it was just time." Alec closes his eyes. His lashes are dark and thick against his cheeks as he exhales. "Everyone acts like something is horrible for long enough and you start to wonder if maybe they're right, if maybe you're the one who is wrong."

Magnus holds his breath and waits for Alec's eyes to open again.

"Then there was Jace."

Alec's voice is light, almost wistful, but his grip on the railing is tight again, tight enough Magnus can see the sharp angles of his knuckles in the dark.

"He was so sad and beautiful, and I wanted to bundle him up in a blanket in my arms and never let go."

Considering what they've learned about his so-called father, Magnus doesn't even want to imagine. Jocelyn had been so very desperate to keep Clary away from him, so sure that there was nothing worse for either of them than Valentine. Nothing worse for anyone than Valentine.

"When he got better at pretending he wasn't sad, all I could see was the beautiful, and there it was." And there it is indeed, self-loathing audible in the sudden edge to Alec's words. "Because I was gay I wanted someone who was supposed to be my brother, and it was horrifying. I was horrifying, and at last I hated myself just as much as I was supposed to."

"Alexander." Magnus can't bear it a moment longer, and takes the last step necessary to reach Alec. He rests his hand upon Alec's, squeezes until he feels the tension beneath his palms ease. Alec leans forward, brushes his lips against the back of Magnus' hand. His every move is so careful, so gentle, and the feel of his mouth is soft and warm against Magnus' skin.

Magnus inhales, blinks.

Alec is comforting him.

As if Magnus feeling for him is a heavier weight than his own misery.

As if Magnus' comfort lifts him up more than his own happiness.

Alec shifts back again, sideways until his cheek presses against the railing a step or two higher than his hands. "I loved him, and he was my brother, and he was attractive. And the more I loved him, the more I knew I would always love him, and the more I realized that they'd always been right, that I'd always been wrong, that I was should be ashamed of myself."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Alec."

Alec huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh. "I knew what you meant the first time you said that."

"I know." Magnus rubs his thumb against the delicate skin between Alec's thumb and forefinger.

"I don't believe it."

Magnus' hand tenses, and he has to make himself relax before his nails start to dig into Alec's hand.

"I'm trying to." Alec offers up the addition like it's a gift, a lift in his voice and a tremble in the fingers still resting beneath Magnus' hand. "Thanks to you."

Magnus shakes his head. "You're the one who made the choice to be yourself."

The breath Alec huffs out this time is not even close to a laugh. "I was holding too tight to my shadows to leave on my own. They were safe. Comforting, even, in their own terrible way. It was easier to hate myself for loving Jace then wonder what I was missing by never letting myself be in love. There was no way I'd ever do anything, no reason I'd ever get to choose something else, so it was right that I give up, that I stop feeling things."

That hurts, dull and heavy, pressing down until Magnus' ribs ache. It's so familiar, and not familiar enough. Magnus doesn't know what to say to it, how to lift that weight, how to shift that history so it's not bearing down on them.

"But I couldn't do that with you." Alec sits up now, his hand turning beneath Magnus' until they're palm to palm, fingers wrapping around each other. "You're too..." Alec's voice wavers, his breath escapes him but he's smiling with it, smiling at Magnus. "You're too bright, I can't look away."

Magnus isn't sure if that's a compliment or not, if he's been put on a pedestal rather than left to stand on the ground with everyone else. He's not sure how to ask that without accidentally accusing Alec of not knowing his own mind, of not knowing what he wants. That's an accusation he'd never risk, not about this, not about them. Especially not after this confession. But Magnus can't quite let it lie, either. "I have shadows."

Alec shrugs. It almost looks careless but Magnus can tell it's not, that he's thought about it, turned it around in his thoughts and considered every angle before dismissing it as unimportant to his conclusions. "I don't want to look away, Magnus. I want to see it all."

Magnus isn't sure he still knows how to breathe.

"If you want to let me." Alec dips his chin, looking up at Magnus through his lashes, the tilt of his shoulders almost shy. He's quite obscenely beautiful. Magnus cannot comprehend how he doesn't know this, how he hasn't ever felt admiration in the eyes around him rather than judgement.

"I don't know if I can." Magnus' voice feels rough, as if he's the one who's been talking for the past few minutes rather than Alec. "But I want to try. Thanks to you."

Alec looks almost giddy, a hint of a flush visible on his cheeks, and Magnus feels the very world shift beneath him. He feels dizzy, loses everything beyond Alec's gorgeous eyes and the feel of his own smile widening across his face.

He could stay here forever, just like this, holding Alec's hand in the dark.

Magnus knew he felt too much the very first time he met Alec's eyes, knew he was too invested when Alec's tracking coma left Magnus adrift and desperate, but this is the first time he can see how they're both too far gone.

It's also the first time this connection feels warm and quiet, no longer a tidal wave trying to drown them, but a sunlit beach, peaceful all the way to the horizon.

He wants to keep this feeling forever.

Alec's fingers shift, tracing the edges of Magnus' rings. Magnus tightens his grip until they still, and lifts Alec's hand just high enough to press a kiss of his own against the smooth skin just behind Alec's knuckles.

Alec inhales, sharp enough to be heard, sharp enough Magnus can feel the lift of his chest.

Magnus lets go, feels the way Alec's fingers catch against his own as the separate, as he makes himself step back. He exhales, slow and long and steady.

He needs to do this right. They need to take their time, step by step, until they figure out how to do this together.

"Some tea, perhaps, before you have to go?"

Alec blinks, and that small crooked smile appears and disappears, and Magnus is quite sure he knows exactly what Magnus is thinking. He nods. Magnus knows he's not just agreeing to tea, but they neither of them say so.

It's enough, for now. Magnus waves them both back into the well-lit warmth of the loft, and Alec trails behind him into the kitchen.

For now, it's perfect.

[tyrannoslex]

tbh i don't know how to handle emotions. Neither my own nor those of other people. It makes me anxious just thinking about having to comfort someone, i never know what to say and i'm aware that for some ppl it must look like i don't care about their struggles and feelings. Thankfully my best (and only) friend gets it and doesn't judge me for it.

I seem to always disappoint ppl. Like my mum or my grandparents. I'm pretty sure i made my mum cry today. It wasn't my intention, still i hurt her and i feel horrible. But idk what to say to make her feel better, a simple 'i' m sorry' feels so wrong and i always have the feeling that it comes across as not genuine.

I can't read ppls emotions. When u talk to someone, even my own family members, i automatically assume that they don't like me. It's basically ingrained in my brain that i can't get ppl to like me. For most of the 8 years that I have known my best friend i couldn't believe that she actually wants to be near me.

I also don't know how to express my feeling well. I don't talk about them at all, at least not to other ppl. Guess that kind of runs in the family but still.

Speaking of family: everyone always says that i'm the favorite child/grandchild. I have an sister. She's five years older than me (22 now) and has her life sorted out. I'm often very jealous of how well she handles life. Funny, because she used to be jealous of me for being the family favorite, as i am the youngest. But the truth is: i don't know my family well and they don't know me either. I hate talking about myself, always feel selfish when i'm doing so, and i bottle my feelings up like a genie in a magic lamp. My mum and my sister talk everyday. They tell each other everything so everytime my sister says that i'm our mums favorite i nearly laugh out loud bc, really, it's her who has a better relationship with her.

My parents got divorced when I was ten. It took me quite long to get over it tbh and sometimes i'm still resentful that i have to spent special holidays in two different household's with the weird tension caused by the hatred between my mum and my grandparents from my father's side. (Also the fact that my mum cheated on my dad with her ex-boyfriend from when she was a teenager, but that's an entirely different story)

Another thing is that i am completely lost in my head. I read a lot... like all the time. If i'm not binge watching shows i read whether it is real books or fanfics. I like escaping reality. It's the only thing that gets me through the day, especially when it's getting stressful in school. I daydream all the time, write my own stories in my head and live lives completely different from my own. Everyone always tells me to get out more. That i shouldn't be suprised that i barely have friends and never were in a romantic relationship with anyone, when the only thing i'm doing is sitting in my room.

I kind of get where they are coming from and i know that they are concerned about me (i was and still am struggling with bad mental health) but they also don't understand that what i am doing is literally the only thing that gets me to smile.

I feel alone, like really alone in the world, as if i'm in a bubble that makes me invisible to the rest of the population. Most of the time i'm glad, I'm always anxious when i go outside. Talking to strangers is a no-go for me and nearly sent me into an anxiety attack once (at least i think it was one who knows) so my best friend has to take one for the team most of the time and seriously without her i would prob rot in my room like the pathetic shitty little human i am.

And isn't it pathetic that the only way to get anything off my chest is by ranting on tumblr and hoping no one I know is finding this.

All of this only scratches the surface of all the things that I want to say but just can't spell out loud.

God, i can't even cry. I feel the pressure behind my eyes, the way my heart squeezes so tightly it hurt and the breath getting knocked out of my lungs. I want to scream and cry, to sob pathetically and destroy my whole room, but i can't because doing that would mean i would have to clean this shit up and that would make me feel even worse afterwards. Also i don't want my mum asking questions.

(Am i faking my bad mental health? It does feel like it. Sometimes i think to myself that i'm only doing this for attention. But i also don't really tell anyone i know about this or get help... so i'm not? I feel like all if this is not right... that i don't have the validation to feel like this. I didn't experience a major trauma, why does it feel like i did? Why can't i carelessly love without worrying that i do everything wrong? Why can't someone like me? Or love me? Why do i hate myself so much?)

Anyway, sorry to anyone who had to read this and listen to my rant!

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar, 6 - Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, Wong, OC

Rating: T?

Warnings: Language! Mentions of sexual encounters, sarcasm, terrible storytelling, and typos prob.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

Previous Chapter

WARNINGS: Language, fighting, mentions of death, Stephen with a kitten

XX

Stephen dragged his sneakers through the loose dirt of the beaten path as he meandered, handful of tools hanging limply from his hands. Every now and then, he'd stop and take a survey of the land before continuing for no other reason than he could. He was delaying his arrival at the small, cornflower blue barn just beyond the hill. Despite the fact that he had been doing mindless farm chores non-stop since they arrived at the Hale Estate and this was the first time Seph had ever physically asked him to help with something. Persephone needed him to take a look at the tractor, a small one for her moderate crops. He knew it was merely a ploy to get him out of the house and away from the ticking time-bomb of a witch, but he was dreading the hell out of it, all the same. It wasn't because he thought he couldn't do it–he grew up on a farm in a small town of very rural Nebraska; he knew how to fix a tractor. It wasn't even that he thought his hands would betray him (not that she had even considered that a possibility. Seph knew that he was the most dexterous of the lot, shaking hands and all). He just really hated it.

As he approached the well-worn wooden structure, he shuffled the tools to fish the key to the padlock out of his pocket. With a loud clang, the lock sprung open, evidence of needing a little greasing apparent in its ear-shattering metallic whine as it turned open to be removed. With little more than a huff, he tugged one of the leaves open to have a staring contest with the four-wheeled piece of equipment that he'd most likely lose.

Then, there was a noise.

Tossing the wrenches and clamps onto a nearby work table, he shuffled around the small shelter, looking under tables and in buckets, until he found the source in the wheel well of the tractor. Smiling, he kneeled on the floor before sitting cross-legged, watching the wheel well with interest until out from the shadows, a little tuft of ginger emerged.

"I don't suppose you're the mechanic," he jested, only to be replied by a determined meow. "Tractor elf, then? Here to fix things while we sleep?"

The ginger tabby, sure as any creature he had ever encountered in this or any Universe, padded across the dirt floor and clambered into his lap. It took less than a minute for the kitten to begin purring or for it to continually bump its head affectionately against his awkwardly jarring hands. Stephen was careful, a notch forming between his brows as he focused on gentleness and applying appropriate pressure, in not suddenly squeezing. Not that the kitten was paying any mind. If anything, the sudden spasms in his hands were met with increased rubbing and the occasional batting of one tufted paw on his hand, pulling it closer to its dirt-stained face.

"I've known you for forty three years." Stephen glanced over his shoulder to find Seph leaning against the open barn door, arms crossed, grin on her face. "Every single time you're sent to do something you don't want to, you always end up with an animal in your lap. How does that even happen, Stephen?"

He shrugged. "I'm just a lucky guy, Peep."

The kitten had scaled up his t-shirt and anchored against his chest. One paw rested on his chin while his hands held the creature up against him. Even from several feet away, Seph could hear the loud, buzzing drone of purring of the cat's delight, warming her insides at this portrait of happiness.

A mew of contentment echoed in the barn, the sorcerer having buried his fingers in the orange fur and tickled down its spine. Stephen chuckled in response, making an altogether too soft noise at his new friend. "I didn't know you kept a barn cat."

"I don't. That little guy is from the Smith's farm down the road. Their barn cat, Cooper, was knocked up. This little stowaway comes and goes. Never lets me touch him, though." Her amusement was apparent at watching Stephen Vincent Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Surly Man Extraordinaire all cuddled up to an orange tabby, melting under its quiet meows. She dropped to her knees beside him, brushing her hand under the cat's chin and quickly realizing it was not her touch the kitten wanted, as it burrowed further into Stephen's chest. A little laugh escaped her. "I think you have a barn cat."

"I don't have a barn." The response was automatic.

She snorted. "Yeah, you do. I can see it from here."

Stephen lifted his gaze from orange fur to the run down barn across the way and then the house it lived behind and sighed, dropping his chin back onto the kitten as in comfort. He didn't exactly know what to say to that, if anything at all, but Seph didn't let him suffer for long.

"What did you make of the house?"

The question prompted him to close his eyes and fidget in place. "I didn't go in. I sat on the porch for hours, held the key. I couldn't do it."

"Stephen, that's your–"

"I know. I know. It's just… their ghosts… I can't–"

She drew an arm around him and pulled him into her body, relishing in the little sigh and the untensing of his shoulders as he settled into the crook of her neck. "Empty houses are not that scary. I promise." He nodded minutely. "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I'll do it, anyway."

A stretch of silence surrounded them, broken only by the white noise of purring. "Are you sleeping with Loki?"

Seph laughed, turning her head to kiss Stephen's crown. "Are you?"

His brows pulled together and his mouth twisted. "Not regularly, no."

"Ditto."

"So, you have."

"Have you?"

He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Look, I'm not judging you, I'm just–"

"Comparing yourself. Which is stupid–"

"I know, I shouldn't–"

She continued as if he had said nothing. "–because I also sleep with women. There's no chance in hell you two break the top ten."

Stephen scoffed, though the corner of his mouth turned up. The kitten in his arms shuffled with the vibration and settled back into another comfortable position. "Do you have to be such a dick?"

"Learn how to use yours and I wouldn't have to." With a grin, she kissed his crown again. "You know you have to sleep with me to be ranked, right?"

A dusting of red covered his cheeks. "Yeah."

"Just making sure."

The little ball of orange fluff stretched luxuriously, untangling from Stephen's arms just enough to wander and drape itself across the place where both of the humans' thighs touched. Seph gently traced one of the fuzzy ears with her fingers, watching them twitch at the contact before the feline pushed its face firmer against her touch.

Stephen could only smile to himself. He could understand the feeling–initial apprehension, weary observation, eventual surrender. Persephone was an intense person and sometimes it was scary to exist within her same aura until she showed that she was there to be gentle. He supposed he could always feel that she was a little different. Her powers made sense to him now, and he could admit that his child's intuition was not great at discerning that the odd feeling he perceived when she was in a mood was not apprehension or annoyance but power.

"I've messed up a lot of stuff with sex." The words slipped out before he had even noticed them.

"Oh, I am well aware. I went to college with you. And med school."

A wry laugh echoed in the barn. "Such a dick."

"Stephen, we were each other's first kiss. First naked look at the opposite sex. First to tell when anything remotely interesting happened to us. And then, we fell into a world of magic and aliens. I think we'd survive." Stephen remained quiet beside her, merely shuffling a little further into the warmth of her half-embrace, making her smile secretively at the softness of the action. "You know she didn't mean it, right? Implying that we were being useless."

He nodded a bit. "I know. She's just upset about her family."

"She doesn't know you. She doesn't know how much it hurt or how their ghosts haunt you. You also didn't have to go that hard on her."

"I know, but what was I supposed to do, Peep?"

"Tell her that you know exactly where's she's coming from. You know her pain better than anyone. Why is it so hard to make that vulnerability known?"

He straightened up, gaze falling to the far corner of the barn to avoid looking at her. "Because who would fucking trust me, then?"

Seph snorted. "Honestly? A lot more people. Half the people we went to school thought you were either a robot or a sociopath. Being an unfeeling thing doesn't lend you credibility, it makes you look like a maniac."

"I don't think that's–" A crash made the two of them start. "What was that?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." She gently pried the kitten off their legs and set it down on the barn floor before jumping to her feet. "Sorry, buddy. Noises need attending. You can catch a nap later."

She waited for Stephen to similarly right himself before the two took off in a sprint towards the house. The pair slammed the kitchen door open to find everything in a disarray. Tables upturned, flowers on the floor, knickknacks broken and a dozen or so people in black, military style uniforms fighting against Wanda and Loki.

"What the fuck is going on?" Persephone yelled over the sounds over fighting.

"Former employers, long story," Loki hissed through gritted teeth.

Seph watched as Loki turned one of their glowing batons against the soldier to presumably electrocute them, only to give a startled gasp when they disappeared in a cloud of stardust.

"Little help, Seph!" Stephen grunted, trying to subdue one intruder while the Cloak kept another off his back. She stood frozen in panic. He did a double-take on her still form. "Pretend they're me and try to kill them!"

For a moment she blinked at him in surprise before another growled chorus of her name roused her. Despite almost killing Stephen several times within the course of the month, Persephone was not good at managing that part of her abilities on command. And, even when she did, the abilities were fleeting, at best. Concentrating, she latched on to whatever feelings of rage and desperation she could scrounge up, feeling the world slip away from her as her eyes began to glow. The two soldiers attacking the Sorcerer were suddenly surrounded in a glass prison. Wanda had four soldiers strung up from red threads of magic like marionettes and slowly moved them across the room where they joined Seph's prisoners. Loki, deciding he had had enough of niceties, was going around the living room, wielding a baton like a sword and dispatching of anyone who came too close to him.

"Are you OK?"

She flinched at Stephen's hand on her shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the boxes with rapt attention.

"Peep, talk to me."

"I'm OK." Her voice sounded both hollow and too dynamic, echoing eerily.

Strange nodded. "You know how I told you earlier not to open the veil? Well, maybe disregard that and throw these guys elsewhere?"

There was a beat of silence before she responded. "I don't have to." She clapped her hands together and both boxes collapsed into nothingness. '

Stephen swallowed thickly, squeezing her shoulder once to try and ground her. "Where'd you–?"

"Antarctica. They might die." She said it so matter-of-fact that it was almost worrying.

"I assure you," Loki started, "they won't. They will be found within a few minutes, if not already."

"Hey." Stephen bent at the knees to level his eyes to hers, though she stared right through him. "Let go of it. You're OK." She blinked at him but her expression turned from blank to furrowed brow. "That's it. Come back." He rubbed up and down her arms, feeling the air shift around him like oxygen was coming back into the room. He looked up at Loki and Wanda. "Do you know where they got in from? This place is warded to the teeth, I find it hard to believe they found a crack."

"Are you telling them or shall I, dear?" Loki offered with a wide smile that didn't quite catch their eyes.

Wanda fidgeted before groaning. "They knocked at the door. I opened without checking."

"It's OK." Seph leaned against Stephen, clenching her eyes shut against the migraine starting to brew at her temple. "It's happened to me before. Not with anyone who wants to kill me but, y'know, religious groups who make me want to kill myself. I have–have contingencies." The last of her words came out slurred.

"You're not looking so good, Seph." The witch rushed over to help her sit on the sofa, full mothering mode on.

"I think I just overdid it." She sank into the cushions, letting out a steady breath before trying to get back up. Stephen promptly pushed her back down. "I need to move the house."

"You're not doing moving of any kind right now." Persephone frowned at what she had deemed his doctor voice, though was having trouble deciding which of the two Stephens was the one she needed to be glaring at.

Loki frowned. "Strange?" He got a hum of acknowledgment back, the sorcerer too busy pretending he wasn't worrying over Seph. "Who's that on your jeans?"

"What?" Stephen looked away from the sofa and glanced down. Hanging off the bottom hem of his right pantleg, a tiny ball of orange fur batted at the playfully swishing Cloak around his shoulders.

"That's his barn cat," Seph supplied, a drunken giggle in her voice.

"Precious." Stephen rolled his eyes at the glittering smile of the demigod, though it turned into more of a wide-eyed stare when he continued, "Didn't know Midgard kept Flerkens."

Wanda tilted her head. "What's a–oooh, that's different." She grimaced at the split jaw and tentacle-like features attached to the mouth, batting at the Cloak.

"Stephen," Seph started, "I take it back. I'm not OK, I'm hallucinating."

Strange drew a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the air filling his lungs soothe him. "No, mom. I don't want to be a farmer. I want to be a doctor and move to New York city. And now you got a fucking alien following you around, you dipshit," he muttered angrily, before bending down. "Hey, no eating the Cloak!" The tentacles retracted, jaw fused back together and a kitten was once more sitting on the carpet. "I should've stayed on the fucking farm."

[alwayssunnyprompts]

Hi! I was thinking about how there are any fics about present day Mac and Dennis going camping together! Mac and Dennis decide to go camping just the two of them, the night is surprisingly going well, when a thunderstorm hits them. Take it away!

God it’s been awhile, but this prompt is finally filled! Thank you, @carkid-a! It was challenging to write, and I loved every second of it. Set during S8. Mac is hopelessly in love, and Dennis is Dennis, with a side of hurt/comfort. Enjoy!

“Are you sure this is agood idea?” 

“Mac, shut up, okay?This is gonna be great. You know, it’s good to get away from the city–thenoise, the pollution, all the jackasses who think they’re the center of theuniverse.”

"Dennis, have you everactually been camping?” 

"Listen, you eitherhave the camping spirit or you don’t. And, baby, I have it. You don’t needcamping experience to know that. It comes naturally.” 

Mac absently wonders whenthe skills will show up. 

They’re standing in aclearing in the middle of the woods. It’s just off the path that leads to thecampgrounds, far enough that Dennis can pretend they’re actually in the"wilderness,” but close enough that Mac is confident they can getback to civilization if something goes wrong.  

Not that he thinks somethingwill go wrong. 

 It’s more the fact thattheir track record as far as trips go is…spotty, at best. Their attempt at aroad trip was hilarious as it was sad, and Mac was still angry over the incidentin the woods. He supposes they just weren’t built for this sort of life, butDennis seems obsessed with proving that they can do it. That he can doit. He doesn’t include Mac in the equation often, and Mac is painfully aware.He just can’t understand why Dennis pushes him away. He’s tried everything toget through to him, but he’s always ended up heartbroken. He hopes that thistime will be different. That maybe if they break their streak of shitty“vacations,” they can break their streak of shittycommunication. 

 He takes a step and narrowlymisses a tree branch that would have probably taken his eye out. His headclears. It’s probably all just wishful thinking. It always is. He pushes thethoughts down as best he can. His heart only sinks a little; he’s gettingbetter at this. 

Dennis is walking around themakeshift perimeter of their campsite, looking quizzically at the ground, thetrees, the tent, back at the trees–it makes Mac anxious. 

“Jesus, Dennis, willyou stop pacing? It’s driving me crazy.” 

Dennis’s head perks up andhe pauses, placing his hands on his hips defiantly.

"I’m sorry Mac, did younot want our camp to be expertly optimized for any situation?”

Mac fights the urge to rollhis eyes so hard it’s almost painful.  

"Dennis, it’s gettinglate and you haven’t even set up the tent yet.”

"Mac, baby, this shittakes time. Cool down and let the master do his work.” He smirks andresumes his unproductive pattern. 

“Come on, dude, itlooks like it might rain. I’m serious.”

"Oh, Christ. If you’reso serious, why don’t you make yourself useful instead of just standing aroundfor me to wait on you hand and foot.”  

Mac feels quiet angerboiling in his blood.

"Okay.” 

Two hours later, Mac has setup ninety percent of their gear. The small camp stove, the fire pit, the food.The tent was a work-in-progress, mostly because Dennis insisted on doing ithimself. Mac is subtly assisting, handing him a rod here and there, making aquiet recommendation every so often. The key was to make Dennis think he wasdoing it on his own. 

"Done!” He clapshis hands together like he’s just completed some magnificent work of art. 

Mac narrows his eyes. 

“Dennis don’t you thinkit’s a little small?" 

Dennis deflates, glances atthe tent and back at Mac. 

"Why do you saythat?”

“It’s just that it’snot quite as…roomy as I thought it would be.”

“I mean, sleeping inclose quarters is part of the camping experience, Mac…it’s the closeness tonature that really–ah, shit, I can’t do this. I’ve had it since we were inmiddle school. It, uh…seemed a lot bigger then." 

His eyes dart back and forthand patches of red grow on his cheeks. Mac feels the situation spiraling. 

"Well, you’re thecamping expert, Dennis. Besides, I’m sure it’ll work out fine. It’s supposed tobe cold anyway, you know, sharing body heat wouldn’t be so bad. In fact, itseems like your insight was pretty good.” He smiles.  

He watches as Dennis slowlycollects himself. There’s a split-second smile of gratitude before he plasterson the smug look from earlier. 

“Of course, it was.” 

The evening passes them by,blessedly uneventful. 

They eat shitty canned “camping food” that Dennisinsisted on buying—Mac wonders why they couldn’t have just bought normal food. Theyroast marshmallows and get the melted mess all over their hands. Dennis seemsdisgusted by the texture and artificial sweetness, but part of Mac enjoyswatching him lick it off his fingers. 

When their eyes meet, though, he can’t helpbut smile, and illuminated by the fire, the expression on Dennis’s face looksheavenly.

Mac forgets all of his reservationsthe instant he smiles. 

Sometimes he hates the holdthat Dennis has over him. Sometimes he feels trapped in a one-sidedrelationship. But in the golden glow of the fire and under the deepening nightsky, he feels whole. He could stay in this moment forever.

Dennis says something aboutheading to bed, and Mac thinks to protest. But he’s still completely enthralledwith the beauty of those few seconds, so he nods absently and lets Dennis leadhim into the tent. Their sleeping bags are touching, barely separated by thesliver of plastic tent-floor between them.

He lies down next to Dennisand closes his eyes. 

An explosion of thunderjolts him awake. 

He feels a swell of panic inhis chest as the regret starts to set in. This was a mistake, a huge mistake.All of their stuff is outside. He should have never let Dennis talk him intothis stupid trip, let his feelings, his longing for a weekend alone with him,blind him to how stupid the idea really was. Neither of them were prepared forthis. 

The sleeping bag is cold andscratchy and the earth below them is solid and rough. He can feel theunevenness under his back and desperately tries to position himself in a waythat won’t wreak too much havoc on his spine. The discomfort leads to a wave ofsadness washing over him. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. How canhe feel so alone with Dennis right beside him? They’re sleeping next to eachother, like he’s always wanted (where did that come from?) yet the inch or twobetween their backs feels like miles, and he’s suddenly so lost in his headthat he starts to panic.

They’re in the middle ofnowhere. Mac is in the middle of nowhere. And he can’t escape because there’snowhere to run and he can’t withdraw because there’s nowhere to hide. He’strapped out in the open. He feels naked and suffocated and terrified. He canfeel his limbs trembling, and a tiny cry escapes his throat. Shit. He can’tcry. Not now. Not with Dennis– the thought is overwhelming. He tries to kickthe sleeping bag off but it’s too tight, he feels like he’s wrapped in clingfilm and he can’t breathe and everything is happening all at once. His visiondarkens and he realizes that he’s hyperventilating. 

The rain starts poundingagainst the tent and his heart is pounding and everything is pounding and heneeds to feel grounded or he’s going to disappear. He can’t wake Dennis becausehe can’t move, he’s locked in his body, and his brain is trying so hard tobreak through but it can’t, he’s not strong enough, he can't—  

“Mac?”

The voice is gentle andsleepy, slightly confused, but alert. The storm must have woken him up. 

Mac feels a sickening mix ofadrenaline and relief. His head spins and he feels like he’s going to be sick.How is he going to explain this?

He still can’t move. Theonly noises he’s capable of making through the shallow breaths are tiny andpathetic. His hands grasp convulsively at the sleeping bag. He tries to openhis eyes but he’s screwed them shut.

"Mac?” He whispersagain, a little more urgently. “Hey…" 

 Softness colors his tone andhe lays a hesitant hand on the small of Mac’s back. He must be able to feel thetrembling now, if he could before. Mac feels pathetic, but he can’t stop. 

"What is it? Thestorm?”

His hand is moving, strokingup and down his back so gently and so carefully that Mac wants to scream. Whatis it? 

He’s gasping, tryingto get words to come out, but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Hecan’t tell the truth. He can’t. He doesn’t even know what the truth is? Is hescared of the storm? Scared of being alone? Scared of Dennis? 

But he’s so far gone andit’s so dark and the storm is so loud. The rain won’t stop, each clap ofthunder sends a spike of adrenaline through his body. He tries to focus onDennis. Just Dennis and his hand and his raspy voice. The idea that Dennisknows something is wrong. Knows him. He wants to be known. He needs to be. 

"Shit,” Dennismurmurs. He moves closer to Mac, lies right up against him and keeps strokinghis back. 

His voice barely registers.The contact is overwhelming. 

“Den,” Mac chokesout. It barely sounds like a word.  

 "There you are. Comeon back. You can do it,“ he coaxes. Any attitude from earlier isgone. 

"I’m here. You’re here.In this tiny, shitty tent. In the middle of the woods. It’s probably 3 am. Iknow you feel terrible, but I’m here, and nothing is going to happen toyou.”  

He lets himself focus on Dennis’svoice, try to climb his way out of the hole he’s fallen into. 

He blinks and the worldcomes into focus. The dim glow from the night lamp in the corner of the tent,knocked over and hidden behind a blanket. The plastic of the floor, the coldair. Dennis’s warmth behind him, hands touching him protectively.  

His head feels like it’sfilled with static. He dissolves into tears, gasping and gulping throughguttural cries. He can feel himself coming back, and he hurts. His muscles areaching horribly, tense and immobile, his eyes and jaw are sore from clenching,he can’t quite feel his hands yet. The sobbing tears through him, exhaustingand uncontrollable. 

"The worst part isover, I promise,” Dennis sighs and gathers him in his arms.“Shh,” he rocks Mac for a couple seconds, “You’re okay.” 

"Den-,” hewhispers. Why is it so hard to say his name? 

 “Yeah, I’m here.” 

 "You’re here,“ heechoes quietly. 

Dennis squeezes him tightfor a second, letting his head droop against Mac’s neck as he holds him. Hisbreath is even and warm. 

[butweareafamily]

rules - I bolded the most important bits in case you can't read long text

hello everyone, this is a mutuals only and canon divergent side-blog that will likely only follow back a few people because it’s created to fix things I didn’t like in canon and/or try other canon divergent plots that didn’t happen. It’s important you read the rules because there are characters I don’t interact with (due to how I think Emma would realistically react to some things outside of a tvshow and its limitations) and some changes in Emma’s feelings. Also because of triggers, because Emma has been abused in many ways.

My name is Ele and I’m 30+, pronouns she/her, super friendly but chronically ill. I follow back from butwearefamilymain. If I follow you with my other main blog thecharmingknightemma you are not required to follow it back. I may follow you with that Emma and not this one because I’m extra selective about the plots I want to explore with Emma Swan but can see things happening with my au one.

If we are mutuals and you want to specify the season/context/verse when you send a meme or reply to something, I welcome it. If you don’t, I’ll pick randomly. 

I’m primarily interested in roleplaying with her parents, son, and especially her husband, but I’m open to other friends too, au ships and so on; at the moment I’m not confident enough to write crossovers but I’m open to do that in the future when I have fully developed this canon divergent Emma. Here to plot for Elsa or Anna or other people to become best friends with her through the seasons. I like prolonging seasons as needed to give everyone time to grow and develop, especially the first half of season 3 by ‘trapping’ Pan for real and having him escape and curse everyone only later. Opens and memes and starter calls are always open, no expiration date, and if you worry about me considering you too pushy: if you request something from my wishlist I’ll be super happy, I’m a rper who loves when people read her stuff.

            ************************************************************************

Now here’s where the more controversial positions I have come into play, and while I don’t mean to offend anyone and I do rp with these characters in other au Emma blogs and respect the fact that you like them, I don’t want to do it here where Emma won’t be friendly due to what happens in canon: I will not write threads with Regina, Gold (after season 3) and Neal in this blog. An exception can be made for interactions with Gold: since her feelings depend on what the others have done in the past and present, if you write an au version of him that didn’t do anything to harm Emma&co. starting in season 4 (basically if he doesn’t rip Killian’s heart out/tries to kill Emma in 4a, and everything after that), Emma has no particular problems with him. 

She will never consider or call Regina a friend, but she will try to keep things civil between them for the sake of everyone in town, even if sometimes she has to bite her tongue (while not accepting any criticism over rescuing Marian and not being okay with being scolded for her ‘stupidity’ or having her loved ones insulted). With Neal she was more forceful about not wanting to date him and realized that she only loved her idealized memory of him, not the man he is now and that she doesn’t know.

If for any reason we decide Neal is alive in the background, they are simply co-parenting and he comes over to pick Henry up, she’s polite, but they don’t spend time together as friends because it hurts.

If you love one of those three canon characters or have a multi and write some of them too we can just avoid the subject, just let me know or otherwise her negative comments about canon events might happen.    Also I’m sorry but the only child of Emma I’ll write with is Henry, not because I don’t love the idea of Hope but because I have too many ideas of how she’d raise her and other children, I find it too godmod-y from both sides.

Also,  Emma’s relationship with Belle depends on whether she’s supportive of her husband/ex husband unless we write an au, regardless of whether she and Killian are friends. 

Other divergences: unless we plot a different name she’s not happy about her baby brother being named after Neal for several reasons; she will call him ‘baby bro’ and ‘little brother’ and any other possible variation of petnames. To be clear she wouldn’t be happy about another sibling being called Killian either, even if Killian had stayed dead. Just no.

I ignore the idea that Emma being good comes from her parents taking away the ‘evil potential’ for several reasons, including logic, but I’m okay with the ‘author’ having made her parents believe it/having written their actions and thoughts to force the story in that direction. I am also okay with Emma ‘reverting’ to hiding things from people in season 6 whether she’s called out for it or not, since a couple of years with a family (and more tragedies during these years) will not undo a lifetime of trauma but people have a right to get frustrated. For every step forward, if she feels rejected or betrayed she’ll take ten back.  Very interested in au Dark Swan plots, you can find examples here X.

It’s not necessary for you to read more details, you can guess some plot changes because for example she would tell Regina she can’t enslave a man and put him in a mirror as she pleases, but I’ll still write them in case you want/need to know more: they’ll be in the about page.

Just keep in mind that Emma is an incredibly traumatized woman who never had a ‘normal’ life, and before turning 28 believed to have never been loved and to always have been maliciously betrayed if she tried to hope it would work, with plenty abuse in her past (including literal physical and emotional abuse in her childhood as I state in the triggers section): a few months of having a family while also living through more tragedies certainly didn’t fix all of it nor taught her how to be perfectly functional and nice and reasonable at all times. She always tried to do her best and she has good instincts, and many wounds will heal but scars will stay. 

here the other standard rules:

-nobody here should get stressed out about replies. They happen when we can write and feel like it, if you need to drop a thread do it, be slow, give priority to what your mood tells you. I’m here for both of us to have fun, or we stop and do something else, that’s all. 

-nsfw is tagged and under read more if it happens.

-I try to tag everything but if you have special triggers do tell me. One exception is threads that involve a ship. I can’t tag every single thread with a Killian ‘captain swan’ especially if the other mun hasn’t given the okay for a ship, and by then it’d be quicker for you to just block the other rper name anyway. 

-triggers (to be read even if not all bolded so you don’t get surprised later): I don’t want to write rape or toxic relationships between our muses, in the backstory is fine (and canon, for many). No miscarriage. Please tag your gore images, daddy kink and nsfw in general or I can’t follow back. In this blog there will be talk of child abuse (Emma being the victim), abuse in general (especially since she will interact with abuse victims), PTSD, violence. Specifically, Emma was physically abused by some guardians, emotionally neglected or abused by others, and while for several reasons I don’t write her as a victim of sexual abuse, for some time she was canonically a homeless child and was aware she was at great risk of it, likely had to run to protect herself more than once. However she felt used by Neal for years, when it seemed that he had just been a conman, until finding him in Manhattan (and it helped a lot, though it doesn’t erase that for years she thought that was the truth), and she is NOT comfortable thinking about the romantic and sexual aspects of her relationship with Walsh, who turned out to be manipulating her and lying the entire time about everything, and was ready to kill her as well. 

-I can ship lots of things: Wooden Swan, Gremma and Mad Swan too? Even Frankenswan in more au ways and ScarletSwan, and crossover ships and others, but they require lots of plotting. Captain Swan is still OTP though and the default. If we are writing together and you sorta see a ship, this is your permission to ask. I don’t forceship, ever. 

-I adore Mary Margaret and David, if Emma is ever a bit unfair to them in threads or they made mistakes it can be solved in universe, you don’t have to worry about me disliking them. If anything this blog is also so that they can have a better and deeper relationship. 

-very okay with aus, other ways the show could have gone, other ways for her and Killian to fall in love, threads where one of her parents got to raise her, different ships, stronger friendships, and so on.

-I don’t want to hurt anyone, if I’m ever accidentally rude or hurt your feelings you can totally tell me! I’ll be happy to fix things and clear anything up if language barriers are what led to the misunderstanding. Just don’t be passive aggressive. Every time someone has told me ‘Ele, explain to me this thing because I’m feeling upset’ I ran to fix it, and it’s usually just a misunderstanding. Every time someone is passive-aggressive they stop existing for me.