#i know its not nye anymore but you know.... nye fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitbybitwrites · 6 months ago

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It's been FOREVER since I've done one of these - I really am grateful to everyone who's been tagging me, even though I've been letting it slide doing this on time ( which is kind of well, my thing, isn't it 😂)

Its been a while - just time, inspiration and utter exhaustion have gotten in the way from really writing. I was finally able to finish one Klaine fic recently (yay!) - so I'm slowly plugging away at everything else I've got on the back burner.

Under the cut will be bits from If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - my Klaine fic that is approaching a year😳 since I started writing it! (Where the heck did the time go? 25 chapters and 102, 599 words later and I'm still plugging away at it!) Also an excerpt of the next chapter of Puppy Love - my sweet RWRB kid!fic. Can't wait to write more of this adorable story also!

Thanks for being patient with me folks and for reading my stuff and just tagging me in these things . . .💖💖💖

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If I Can Make Your Heart My Home (Klaine fic - Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang 2023) cc @datshitrandom

Kurt shook his head. “I know. You’re right, Maggie." He took a deep breath. “I guess I feel like an idiot. I messed up something great and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” “Nonsense,” Maggie huffed as she slid the box in her hand into the shopping cart. “Let me tell you no couple is perfect together all of the time. It’s hard. It's hard work to get two people who can be so different to share a life together. And let me tell you Ralph and I were like oil and water on many occasions.” “She’s not wrong, “ Clara confirmed. “Ma and Pop had some really big blowouts when I was a kid. Remember the cracked bowling ball argument?” Maggie snorted. “Oh god and one about the fishing weekend he took with your Uncle Al and never thought to let me and your Auntie Anna know. Thought they were dead in a ditch somewhere.” Clara laughed along with her mother. “And the hat - the one about your new hat that he thought . .” “Looked like a bird had died on my head.” Maggie cackled. “Oh I was so insulted. I loved that hat!” Clara wiped away a few tears that had welled up in the corners of her eyes. “At the time, it seemed like the end of the world. But it wasn't, not really.” “We never stayed mad for long. And we worked it all out.” Maggie admitted, a wistful look in her eyes as she recalled all those moments. “I don’t know if he wants to talk to me anymore, Maggie. That’s the problem. I think I might have missed my chance.” Maggie took Kurt’s hand in hers and squeezed it firmly. “You’re never going to know if you don’t try, Pillsbury.” “Talk to him, Kurt," Clara added. “You owe yourself that, don’t you think? Let him know how you really feel. Talk about everything that's been bothering you . . and then, see what happens.” “I’m rooting for you, Pillsbury,” Maggie told him softly. “I’ve got a good feeling about you and Monty.” “We both do.” Clara chimed in.

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Puppy Love (FirstPrince fic - RWRB NYE Gift Exchange 2023) - cc @omgbarbiegurl

Alex mostly operated on a “full-steam-ahead” way of living life. He jumped off of cliffs - made big decisions and went with them, often with very little mulling over or introspection, basically throwing himself wholeheartedly into life. Some of his family thought it was too reckless, too thoughtless, too rash. He preferred believing he was going with his gut instincts. Alex did that when decided to drop his law studies and go to vet school. He did that when moved in with his last partner. He went with his gut when he decided to adopt Raf, and also when he made the decision to move to NYC to start a new chapter in his life and to start the animal rescue with June. So far, Alex couldn’t say he was disappointed with any of his impulsive life choices. Well, he slightly wished that Jessica and him had ended on better terms. But he couldn’t dwell on it. She was the one who didn’t want to be a parent and that was a deal breaker for Alex. He refused to give Raf up and change his mind like she had after the fact. Alex loved his son with all that he had. It was him and Raf together till the end. Alex was determined to make their new life in New York the best that it could be. Having June and Nora alongside him for this adventure was comforting, and Alex couldn’t deny that they were keeping him grounded most of the time. They knew his tendency to hyper focus and prodded him enough to keep him from doing it too much to the detriment of his family time with Raf. But getting the rescue up off the ground was harder than they had expected. Even now after they had been established for quite some time, there were days whenthe siblings would wonder what they had gotten themselves into. Creating a business from scratch, juggling to manage everything and taking care of the animals as well was overwhelming and chaotic on most days. Spencer and Liam coming aboard last month was not only a pleasant surprise, but a nice shot of relief for June and Alex. Certainly once the holidays were over it would be even easier. They could start to mange more realistic shifts at the rescue and begin to maintain some sort of normalcy with the extra help. Alex would be the first to admit that whenever prioritizing his life, even with his chaotic schedule, Raf came first, then his work and then . . well his personal needs and wants last. After he and Jessica had parted, Alex pushed any thoughts of dating - or even random hook ups out of his mind. There really was no time for that. And in no way was there anyone who even piqued his interest enough for him to come surfacing out of his self-imposed exile from the dating world. Or rather, that was true until an abandoned beagle and the gorgeous man who rescued him waltzed into his life.

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OK . . so many thanks to the following lovely folks who have tagged me in the past few weeks for Six Sentence Sunday/ WIP Wednesday :

@porcelainmortal, @wordsofhoneydew, @duchessdepolignaca03, @forabeatofadrum, @littlemisskittentoes,

@agostobuwan, @nocoastposts, @sheepywritesfics @taste-thewaste @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

@iboatedhere, @itsmaybitheway, @onthewaytosomewhere, @myheartalivewrites, @magicandarchery

@fallevs. @daisyishedwig. @welcometololaland and if I forgot anyone, I so apologize! ( I really tried keeping a list every time I missed one!)

So going to open tag anyone who might want to share what they're working on . . but I'll also tag for the hell of it, if they want to jump in:

@kirakiwiwrites, @madas-ahatters-world, @coffeegleek, @gleefulpoppet, @little-escapist

@spaceorphan18 @yadivagirl

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up-in-space-reading · 3 months ago

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Average Weekly Screentime - Chap 8: The Best Non-Detective Detective

pairing: Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago

word count: 412

warnings/tags: college au, texting, drunk texting, text fic (mostly, there's prose a few chaps in), bets, bisexual!jake peralta, jake peralta has adhd, parties, drinking and alcohol, sexual references, implied sexual content (nothing explicit, just suggested its going to happen/has happened), friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of cannibalism, lighthearted threats of violence (typical rosa stuff yk), fluff

read on ao3

Average Weekly Screentime masterlist

Story Summary: texting fic college AU with the squad! It's the beginning of the school year and while everyone else thinks it'll be the same as the previous year, Gina has a feeling things are going to be different and wagers a bet with Rosa and Charles. Told through all the various group chats everyone is in.

authors note: accompanying chapter to the previous one to hold you over until i finish the next chapter!!

Jimmy Jabbers

[05:24pm, Thursday]

Queen G: i need movie recs now pls

RoRo: robocop

Mr Grapes: Bullets Over Broadway

Queen G: seriously??? Queen G: THOSE are my options

Mr Grapes: You asked

Dance Squad

[05:43pm, Thursday]

G-Hive: is anyone else hearing the deafening silence from jake and amy

Charlese: Jake told me he wasn’t feeling well tonight

Scary: you know damn well amy is probably nose first in a book

G-Hive: something is off about it G-Hive: im gonna investigate

DDC

[05:45pm, Thursday]

G: charles said u werent feeling well G: u ok?

[06:28pm, Thursday]

G: r u dead??

Dance Squad

[06:33pm, Thursday]

G-Hive: jake hasnt responded to me

Scary: he’s probably asleep then

G-Hive: i dont buy it

Charlese: Do you want me to message Amy?

G-Hive: about what charles? G-Hive: leave this to me

Girls, Girls, Girls

[06:39pm, Thursday]

Gina: @Amy did u want the lipstick u wore on nye? Gina: i dont wear it anymore but i dont wanna throw it out yk

Dance Squad

[07:14pm, Thursday]

G-Hive: amy has not responded to me

Scary: i’ll admit that’s weird

Charlese: Usually one of them will respond

Scary: gotta ask gina, do you have nothing better to do?

G-Hive: all my dates are on the weekend G-Hive: im also waiting for my tan to set

Scary: fair enough

Charlese: Do you have a date with Sam?

G-Hive: yeessss G-Hive: me and his fine ass going to some fancy place G-Hive: and yes he WILL be paying

Charlese: I assume Sasha doesn’t know??

G-Hive: pls charles im not an idiot G-Hive: ill be posting an insta story while im out

Charlese: Oh that’s perfect

Scary: you two lead lives that i just can’t relate to

Charlese: You don’t go on dates?

Scary: i go on dates Scary: only if they end in sex

G-Hive: seriously??

Scary: so many lesbians on this campus

G-Hive: why did i not know about this

Scary: keeping secrets from you is fun

G-Hive: the way im being treated tonight I stg

DDC

[08:02pm, Thursday]

Jacob: hey g Jacob: sorry i didnt text sooner Jacob: was asleep but feeling better

G: thats cool G: as long as ur not dead G: ur mom would kill me

Jacob: lol

Dance Squad

[08:04pm, Thursday]

G-Hive: what were the lyrics to the wizards of waverly place theme song again

Charlese: “Everything is not what it seems”?

G-Hive: exactly right charles G-Hive: exactly

authors note: I've already said it like twenty times but I'll say it again - thank you for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting, i see you all and i love you all <3

I'm going to guess there will only be one more chapter left of this story BUT i promise i'll make it a hefty one!

#alice writes #jake peralta x amy santiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #gina linetti #rosa diaz #charles boyle #fluff #college!au #bisexual!jake peralta #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #multi chap #average weekly screentime

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grissomesque · 8 months ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tag, @curator-on-ao3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 45

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 100,886

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mainly Voyager, anymore. Sometimes another Trek will sneak in there. Actually, after answering the next question, I guess it's just the Janeway Fandom.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Without Desiring the Ravaged Towns (J/C)

In the Pines (J/7)

Play It Again, Sam (J/P)

In Ruins Behind You (J/C)

You Who Wish To Conquer Pain (J/P)

5. Do you respond to comments? I so try to. Eventually. The vibe is in shambles but I read them all and it's never that I've forgotten, only that I'm, you know. I don't know. I'm having a hard time. I love you forever, commenters.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I wrote One Last Look at This Sacred Heart for the 'no happy endings' Month of Cohen. But In Ruins Behind You is angst all the way down. So one of those two. Both involve character death.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Play It Again, Sam is pretty unambiguously happy. But for J/P I like to leave a lot of them open to the possibility of offscreen joy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've heard tell of anti-J/P rumblings. But no one says it to my face, so that's fine.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Listen, I'll read the shit out of smut - any smut - but no, I haven't written it in a long time. I psyched myself out of it. But I have something percolating.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Just Trek crossovers. Voyager + Picard, mainly.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I co-write with my husband in the fandom of Academic Publishing, truly a ludicrous media which is on its way down and out.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a four part J/P New Year's Eve fic last December and I loved the mood of it. Like, it was the kind of thing you know you're getting right, as you're writing it? I was on track to post it right around my birthday, as a treat, and then I got a cold. And then that cold morphed into another, worse cold. And then I got covid, bad. And in this way I was sick for most of December and January. (So if you sent me a prompt around that time, and I never did it, that's why. I still mean to.) By the time I emerged from that haze, the Cohen prompt had come out and my mind went to work on that, and I just couldn't get back to the NYE fic. Really sad about it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Yeah, I don't know. People usually tell me it's characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Lots. I tend to use the same words over and over, and have to triple check myself on the back end.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I won't do it. I know a handful of languages and even so I don't trust myself to not pull someone out of the story by getting it wrong. But it doesn't actually bother me when other people do it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I can never remember. It could've been CSI, or MASH, or Trek. Since it was all on LJ, I'll never know.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? You Who Wish To Conquer Pain, my love letter to J/P.

#tagged

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viking-writing · 2 years ago

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Hallo på do! / Hello on the toilet!

( It's just a Norwegian phrase that rhymes it doesn't mean I am actually sitting on the toilet...don't worry!)

OK. I have currently been removing the old name of the main character in my Rammstein AU fic series, "Liebeslied ".

I am currently working on replacing her old name with a new one (still a new one although yes its similar to the old but you can't judge me considering how much work this is!!) and I am guessing all in all out of everything I have written so far, (for almost 5 F** YEARS), her old name is probably mentioned like 3000 times or something in total!! Look at this search I did on her old name;

Like this is screenshot is not even the first bit that I've been editing for the past days (there is already another bit where her old name is mentioned over 900 times and even ANOTHER ONE with 900 times and then there are so many other bits with like 130 times and around 200 times!! So yeah about 3000 times in total, over the span of almost 5 YEARS of writing....yeah that seems like a pretty close guess!!)

I will search her new name, once I am done, and then add up all the chapters and all the snippets once I am done editing everything and I'll let you know how many times her old name WAS mentioned. In other words; How much I have actually had to replace!

Ok. I know this is very time consuming and I know it seems a lot BUT keep in mind that not ALL of these chapters are going to be in the actual finished story.

Some parts are already "deleted chapters" (chapters and snippets that I have decided to leave out from the plot but that I also love too much to actually delete/get rid off completely from my laptop!) and some bits are simply synopsis or character studies to keep me in track of all the characters birthdays, family situations, background, etc)

But even though I am not gonna keep ALL of this...I am STILL editing out the main character's old name from EVERYTHING that I have written of Liebeslied. Why? You may ask? Well I do this simply because I need that "cleanse" after a certain french bitch who I dedicated the entire story to, AND who I even let NAMING the main character (BIG mistake! Yeah! I realize that now!) ...Yeah after THAT bitch decided to not care about this story or even our (almost 5 year long) friendship anymore :)....I just couldn't keep letting her have credit for ANYTHING that is Liebeslied related!! So even though this seems like I waste of time to edit the main OC's name out from EVERYTHING...

I still HAVE to do this! For MY sake!

So yes this is time consuming but I'd rather want spending several days on this, right up until NYE 2023, than to begin the new year with the main character's old name (and thus also the "ghost" of my former friend) still hanging over my work/my story to haunt me and ruining 2023.

So the plan is to not write anything or edit anything of the actual story/plot BEFORE 2023, when there will be a new name to the main OC already there to welcome me...

in January it will finally feel like a fresh new start that will motivate me to write and edit further on the plot again! ❤ After this (major and most time consuming but imo absolutely necessary) edit; "Liebeslied" will FINALLY feel like MY story again and MY story alone! Without ANY credit or work done by ANYONE ELSE! 💅

And so that's why all this editing out of the old name is going to be worth it because that feeling that the story and all the OC's are MINE and mine ALONE...

THAT'S gonna feel amazing!! ❤

I can't wait for next year! 🌌

#i regeret letting that bitch name the main oc now because this is gonna take time but i am dedicated #to not let that bitch have any credit over anything in the story #she wasnt worthy of all the effort and creativity i gave her and i hope she ends up alone #liebeslied rammstein fic series #the viking writes #liebeslied rammstein au hulder fic series

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years ago

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ten to one

Words: 2.8k

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationship: Tim Stoker/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Sasha James

Characters: Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Sasha James

Additional Tags: Fluff, Kissing, Alcohol, New Year’s Eve, tim is a sore loser, sasha has cats, martin hates chestnuts, jon just wishes they could drink something other than champagne

Summary:

“You’re going to be sick,” Jon comments, taking a small sip of champagne from his glass and ignoring the way Tim’s lips curl into a pout. He’d said, when Sasha had poured him a glass of champagne, that he’d thought it was meant to be drunk at midnight; she’d assured him that this bottle was one of their pre-countdown bottles.

Given the number of bottles lining her kitchen countertop, he was inclined to believe her.

----

The archival staff counts down to the new year with cupcakes, champagne, and cats.

Read on Ao3

Or read below:

That’s how many little cupcakes Tim’s eaten, by Jon’s count. When Tim grins at him, his sharp-toothed smile is stained black from the frosting.

Given the number of bottles lining her kitchen countertop, he was inclined to believe her.

“I’ll have you know,” Tim says, sliding closer to Jon on the couch and snagging his glass out of his hand, “that I have a stomach of steel. It’s sick-free!”

He takes a long sip of champagne as if to prove his point. His lips stain the rim of the glass black.

“Tim,” Jon says flatly. “That’s disgusting.”

Tim looks at the glass, noticing the discolouration. “Huh.” Then, a wide grin splits his mouth nearly in two, and before Jon can pull back, Tim presses a quick kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough that Jon can taste the sugar on Tim’s mouth.

It’s nice, and for a moment, Jon’s irritation melts a bit, softened by the champagne in his stomach and the feeling of Tim’s lips on his.

Then, Tim pulls back too-quick and squints at Jon’s mouth. “Huh,” he repeats. “Looks like black food dye really does stain everything.”

Jon looks at the glass, still in Tim’s hand, and then at Tim’s lips, tinged ever so slightly with black. His own still taste of sugar.

“Tim!”

That’s how old Martin was the last time he spent New Year’s Eve with someone. It had been the first time his parents had let him stay up until midnight, and they’d given him a champagne flute of sparkling apple juice so that when the clock hit midnight he could toast the new year just like they did. He’d barely made it, his eyes fighting a losing battle against exhaustion as the new year inched closer and closer, but he’d done it.

That had been a long time ago, though. After a while, Martin had taken to treating New Year’s Eve like any other day. No point in forcing himself to stay up late for something that was bound to be disappointing in the end.

Now, though, Martin’s sat on the couch at Sasha’s house with Tim’s legs across his lap and Sasha tucked into his side, a large container of cheesy popcorn balanced between the three of them. Jon’s somewhere in the kitchen, having squirmed out from underneath Tim long enough to take the chestnuts out of the oven. From the little frustrated noises Martin can hear coming from the kitchen, Jon’s struggling to extract them from their shells.

Martin’s really not a fan of chestnuts. But he’d rather die than tell Jon that right now.

So when Jon finally returns to the living room, a steaming bowl of shucked chestnuts in his hand, Martin accepts one with a smile. And maybe it’s something about that night or the way that Jon’s smiling at him, but when he bites into the chestnut, he doesn’t hate it.

He doesn’t hate it at all.

That’s what time Jon appears at Sasha’s front door, on time to the minute. He’s a good fifteen minutes ahead of Martin, who had sent Sasha a running late! text with a string of apologetic emojis attached to it, and at least an hour ahead of Tim, who has being fashionably late down to a science. Jon seems nervous, shifting back and forth on Sasha’s threshold with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a large bag of raw chestnuts in the other.

Sasha lets him in with a warm greeting and a smile (and, once she’s taken the bottle out of his hands so he won’t drop it, a quick kiss on his cheek). He sets the chestnuts on the counter, his eyes going to her living room couch, then the kitchen, before finding her again.

“Am I too early?” he says, eyes wide and unsure, and Sasha wonders briefly how he’d ever managed to convince them that he was stuffy and closed-off. Particularly when he’s standing in her living room, clutching a bag of chestnuts in his arms like a lifeline.

“Nope,” Sasha says, extracting the chestnuts from his arms with a smile. “You’re right on time.”

That’s how many times Sasha’s caught Tim trying to open the bottle of special midnight champagne, tucked away on the far corner of the counter and labelled with a bright blue sticky note to avoid being accidentally opened. She supposes if she’d wanted to Tim-proof it, she probably should have put it in a locked safe. Though he knows her so well, he’d probably be able to guess the passcode.

It should be irritating. Somehow, it’s hopelessly endearing instead.

“Tim,” Sasha says, snatching the champagne out of his hands as his thumbnail begins to pick at the gold foil covering the cork. There’s a rip in it when she extracts it from him, revealing a small strip of cork underneath. “That’s for later!” Her eyes slide to the left, where there’s a half-full, open bottle of champagne sitting on the counter next to them. “What’s wrong with that champagne?”

Tim gives her the saddest set of puppy dog eyes he has in his arsenal. “Sasha, I have been waiting months to drink that champagne. Months! I don’t want to wait until later!”

A weaker woman would have folded under the impressive weight of Timothy Stoker’s big brown eyes and pouting lips. Sasha just grabs the open bottle of champagne and presses it into Tim’s hands with a smile and a quick kiss on those same lips. “Later,” she repeats, before taking the bottle to hide it somewhere Tim won’t be able to find it.

She hopes.

That’s how many letters are in Martin’s name, Tim thinks idly as he runs his hands through Martin’s hair, scratching his nails lightly against Martin’s scalp. Somehow, in the rearranging of the four of them on Sasha’s obscenely long couch, Tim had ended up with Martin’s head on his lap, and he certainly isn’t going to complain.

Sasha and Jon are bickering about some small detail in the movie they’ve put on, Tim thinks, like they always do—is it pronounced this way or that way, would a wide shot or a close-up be better here, would that specific piece of clothing have been period-typical at the time (yes, if it were dyed with indigo flowers, Jon had said primly, which had then been followed by a hey as Sasha’s elbow connected with his side)—and so he’s got Martin all to himself. Which is such a lovely place to be, he thinks as he continues to massage Martin’s scalp with his fingers.

“Tim,” Martin says, his voice pinched slightly in that way it always gets when he’s receiving affection—like he’s always surprised by it, half-expecting it to be taken away without warning. “I have to tell you something.”

Tim hums, a soothing noise, and says, “Okay, but I should warn you—I’m currently seeing someone. Several someones, actually. In fact, I believe it would technically be three—”

“Okay, okay,” Martin says, one hand coming up to swat at Tim’s. His mouth is curled into a small, amused smile. “No need to be so…” He waves a hand in the air vaguely.

“Handsome?” Tim suggests with a sharp grin.

“Cheeky.”

Tim puts on a comically large expression of shock. “No. Me? Couldn’t be.”

Martin laughs, a small and breathy thing, and Tim loves him for it. His expression slips into something warmer and real, and he resumes running his hands through Martin’s hair. “Fine, fine, I’m listening. Go ahead, Martin.”

“Thank you.” Martin closes his eyes, hums gently, and says, without opening his eyes, “You have frosting on your nose.”

That’s how many fingers are on Jon’s left hand as it finds Martin’s on the couch, those same fingers threading through Martin’s with an ease that could be practised had it not been just a few months since working together had turned into getting lunch together had turned into pining had turned into… everything else. Martin had spent a lot of time looking at Jon’s hands, before; the way that his knuckles are wider than the rest of the finger, or the way that he drums his fingers on his desk when he’s bored, or the way that his hands look wrapped around a mug of tea, black and over-steeped just like Jon likes it.

They’d looked soft, Martin had thought.

He’d been right.

The kiss Martin places over the top of Jon’s knuckles is quick and impulsive, his lips still wearing the smile from something Tim had said and his other hand clasped with Sasha’s (her grip is impressively tight, like she’s afraid she’s going to drop him). The soft, surprised smile that Jon gives him is worth the entire world.

That’s how many cards Tim has to draw when Martin plays the Draw 4 Uno card, giving him an apologetic smile that does nothing to alleviate the fact that Tim had one card left and was about to win, goddammit!

“Martin,” Tim says as he draws painstaking card after painstaking card. “Dearest Martin.” He draws another card. “Lovely, kind Martin.” He draws the final card and gives Martin his best solemn expression. “This is how you ruin relationships, Martin. This, right here.”

Martin’s face is flushed pink, but his voice is casual when he says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Tim. I’m just playing the game.”

Tim points at Martin, looking back and forth between Jon and Sasha for support. “Do you hear that? Nothing but disrespect. Treachery. A fatal blow!”

Sasha looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Jon just looks bemused. “I mean, he is just playing the game,” Jon says with a small shrug. “And I believe he’s winning.”

Tim looks over at the single card Martin’s holding, and before his brain can process the situation fast enough to call Martin out for not declaring it, Martin says quickly, “Uno!”

“Jon!” Tim says, kind of wishing it hadn’t come out so whiny but feeling altogether too slighted to do anything about it.

“My turn,” Jon says, and plays a reverse card.

“Oh, I hate you all.”

That’s how many glasses of champagne Martin has had, which is a lot for him since he doesn’t really make a habit of drinking, especially wine, which tends to give him a headache even if he drinks white. But Jon had assured him that champagne is essentially tannin-free, having minimal skin and oak contact, so the only thing Martin had to worry about was his own terrible alcohol tolerance.

Well, Jon hadn’t said that last part. That was just Martin.

Three glasses, it seems, is enough to activate Martin’s least-favourite part about drinking—the complete inability of his brain to keep every single thing that comes across his mind from spilling out into the open. He’s already told Sasha that he accidentally stole the cardigan she keeps in her desk at work and, by the time he realized a week later, was too embarrassed to give it back. (“So that’s where that went!” Sasha had said with an accusatory tone.) He interrupted Tim mid-sentence to tell him, quite abruptly, that whenever Tim wore that black-and-white patterned shirt to work—which was just a bit smaller on him than the others and which he usually wore with the top two buttons unbuttoned—he could never stop staring at it. (“Really?” Tim had said with a smirk. “I suppose I’ll have to wear it more often then.”)

And now, when Jon shoots Tim a very impressive glare and says, in his best professional voice, “I don’t think that’s quite work-appropriate, Tim,” Martin isn’t able to keep himself from blurting out that he finds Jon’s “archivist” voice really, really hot.

The silence that blankets the room at that is deafening. Tim looks delighted; Sasha looks amused. And the flush that spreads over Jon’s face is really quite impressive, visible even in the low light of Sasha’s living room.

Martin really shouldn’t have had that third glass of champagne.

That’s how many cats Sasha has, until now shut away in her bedroom to avoid being overwhelmed by the loud noise or being stepped on. At Tim’s insistence (and Jon’s not-so-subtle glances toward her closed door), Sasha finally relents, but not before pointing a stern finger at Tim and telling him to behave.

(“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Tim says innocently, like he doesn’t always end up getting himself bitten or scratched.)

Now, one cat—an orange-and-white shorthair named Darwin—is curled up in front of the television, currently being assaulted by Tim and Martin as they spoil him with pets and treats and the little feather on a string that he likes. The other—a midnight-black longhair named Emily with wide yellow eyes—is sprawled across Jon’s lap, her purring loud enough that Sasha can hear it from the kitchen where she’s subtly retrieving the bottle of midnight champagne from its hiding place. Sasha’s pretty sure she’s never seen Jon look at anything like that—with eyes full of love and wonder and the corners of his mouth pulled up into what looks like an involuntary smile.

Sasha’s suddenly so very in love with him—with all of them—that she can barely breathe. It’s not an emotion she’s very comfortable with—she’s never gotten crushes easily, and the ones she’s had tended to ruin year-long friendships when they sprung up almost overnight, when her brain finally decided that it wanted more. Jon, she’s known for ages, their desks in research being directly across from one another and her persistence knowing no bounds. Martin longer still, having met him when he worked in the library and she worked in artifact storage. Tim is the most recent, technically, but god, it feels like she’s known him her whole life.

There’s a small shriek from the living room, and when Sasha looks back, she sees Tim with his hand buried in the fur of Darwin’s stomach, Darwin’s teeth nipping at the flesh of Tim’s thumb. “Ow ow ow, sharp,” Tim says, but he’s laughing, and he continues to rub at Darwin’s belly with a smile on his face.

Really, Sasha thinks as she turns back to the kitchen with a smile of her own, there’s nowhere she’d rather be.

That’s how many minutes there are until midnight. The glass of champagne in Jon’s hand looks exactly the same as all the others, but Sasha had insisted that it was better, Jon, it’ll taste heavenly, I promise, so he holds it and watches the numbers on the television screen begin to count down.

It strikes Jon, as the seconds pass and midnight draws closer, that he’s never really felt any need to celebrate the new year. The two days—New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day—were technically indistinguishable from one other, delineated only by the human decision to make them so, and therefore what was the point really of staying up so late just to drink bad wine and stare at a clock? He’d gone to a New Year’s Eve party once with Georgie in uni, and it had been fine, but once they broke up he really didn’t see any reason to attend another. He disliked everything about New Year’s celebrations—the bad champagne, the resolutions nobody kept, the way he always wrote the date wrong for a few weeks afterwards.

He doesn’t dislike this, though, he realizes, sitting with Tim pressed up against one side and Martin against the other and Sasha on the end of the couch next to Tim, all of them watching the countdown with rapt attention. Maybe the champagne is terrible and the resolutions are silly and having to constantly erase the last number of the year will be frustrating, but this—being together, celebrating together—really isn’t so bad at all.

The countdown reaches ten, and Tim begins to vocalize the numbers along with it as they flash across the screen, altogether too loudly for this time of night. Sasha and Martin join in at eight, and Jon finally makes up his mind as the counter hits one, his lips shaping the word along with the rest of them.

Glasses clink and champagne is drunk (not heavenly, Jon thinks, but more palatable than the rest) and kisses are shared as Happy New Year! flashes across the television screen. And, Jon thinks, it’s really quite lovely after all. To bring in the new year with the people you love.

That’s how many of them wake up the next morning without mouths full of cotton and pounding headaches, the several empty bottles of champagne making themselves known.

“Ughhhhh,” Tim groans eloquently, and falls back asleep.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #the magnus archives fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #s1 polycule #my fic #my writing #i know its not nye anymore but you know.... nye fic

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grasslandgirl · 2 years ago

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1, 14, 24 for any, 48, 49!!

mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

sfjkvnksjfbs this is so difficult bc i feel like so much of what i write is impossibly niche and only for myself and a handful of my friends skjfvnsk so i have no idea what an effective introduction to my body of work would be. my figayda coffeeshop au, maybe? just because i think it's really solid and a good demonstration of my narrative style/rhythm? alternately, my figfabian lounge singer au for similar reasons? i dunno ksjfnksjf

honorable mention jamie @gilears and my 2nd pov figgorgug fic we wrote last year bc its some of my favorite and best work and one of the things i've most enjoyed writing-- and i think it's a really solid hook into figgorgug, which i have not been able to stop writing since kjsfnbvksfjbn

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

i really only read oc-heavy if i really trust the author!! as a genre/style of fic they don't usually hold a lot of appeal for me unless i know the person writing it/ the backstory and process of the oc/ trust the author to build and integrate appropriate and interesting ocs (a really great example of this is santeri @fearlessjournalism 's brushfire, and also casey all of your clsoc fic <3)

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

idk if it's really an easter egg but jam and i have a running joke about a handful of beats/moments i keep putting into my figgorgug fics, with varying amounts of intention; including but not limited to: diners, pancakes, (fig) sitting on counters/tables, sunflowers, stolen clothes/sweatshirts, and kissing hands <3

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

i was looking around through the zuko/sokka tag and read a modern nye get together fic and it was. fine. readable but not something i'd bookmark or send to people like "oooh i really liked this"

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

working on a fig/gorgug right person wrong time fic rn 😵‍💫 having many thoughts in my silly little head about it <3

There’s something rotting inside of her. Fig’s always been a little on the wrong side of selfish; Sandra Lynn says she gets it from her, but maybe it’s the hell influence too. She wants to be happy for her friends, the freedom from Aguefort and school and childhood thats burning on the horizon for all of them. A whole class of peers ready to stumble forward into the real world all together- college and work and more adventures and quests ready for the taking. Fig wants to be happy, wants to glow with a vicarious joy when Fabian talks about learning specialty knots and sending letters to Garthy and Jamina on the Leviathan. Or when Riz rolls out his conspiracy board and talks through it to them with tapping fingers that itch to get back on the road- with Penny, this time. Fig wants to join in on the excitement when Gorgug and Kristen make plans for finding a cafe on campus that’s theirs and trying to convince the dorms to let them room together. But she’s not. Because Fig can’t help but feel like everyone’s moving on without her. Like it’s the last weeks of eighth grade all over again and her horns are finally getting too big to be covered by her hair and all her (ex) friends have stopped pretending to make plans for the summer or for freshman year with Fig, anymore. The Bad Kids have been Fig’s roots, and her wings, and all the other metaphors she’s shoved into her songs all these years, and she doesn’t really know what she’s going to do with herself without them. Now that it feels like they’re all going their separate ways, with no school year starting in the fall to drag them back together. It’s just Fig, and the band she started because she wanted to scream and hear Gorgug slam on the drums- only this time it’s really just Fig.

send me numbers from this fic writer's ask list!!

#asks #mwah mwah mwah mwah caseyyy #welcome to sav fg fic number ??? eighteen??? including all my wips ???#i love being crazy and insane ksfjnsfb

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pixie88 · 2 years ago

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Hi, I am sad to see Teddy completed it was a great spin on Supernatural.

I have a couple of questions for teddy and the neighbor-

Was there a scene you had planned but it didn't make the final cut?

Did you have that ending planned for Teddy all along?

Dean and Alana getting together did you have any other ideas for that scene?

Do we meet Alana's family?

What scene is your favourite?

Was neighbor always a slow burn?

Will you write anymore Jensen/Dean stories?

😊

Hey @reallyloudstudent 👋🏻

I'm sad too but it feel like it had run its course 😘

Was there a scene you had planned but it didn't make the final cut?

Yes, there were a few scenes that never went into both fics.

The Neighbour

Alana was supposed to say this to Dean in the Seconds to midnight chapter, but I completely forgot about it 🤦‍♀️

“I want you. All of you. Your flaws. Your mistakes. Your imperfections. I want you, and only you.”

Also instead of Dean singing All outta love at work he was supposed to do it doing karaoke.

Teddy

Wrote it then deleted the whole chapter, where Dean proposed to Lyla but I skipped to the wedding.

Did you have that ending planned for Teddy all along?

Nope as I said Dean was supposed to propose and the wedding wasn't in the final chapter.

Dean and Alana getting together did you have any other ideas for that scene?

I had always planned for them to get together NYE and for Dean to dump is date...but I did also plan for them to have sex that night but I thought it was too soon so I took it out.

Do we meet Alana's family?

Yes, I'm currently writing their visit to the UK and boy what an explosive week it will be secrets get exposed from the past and present. Not saying anymore than that! 🤐

What scene is your favourite?

The Neighbour

There are a few in the upcoming chapters but in the chapter previously? Probably when Alana tell Isaac their night together was just sex and asked him how it felt to be lied to by someone he loved.

Teddy

Probably the moment where Alana calls Dean in a panic because her Mum is a werewolf and he went into protective mode.

Was The Neighbour always a slow burn?

Yes, I was thinking they wouldn't get together until chapter 15 plus but I got impatient...for me my characters normally get together by the 5th chapter.

Will you write anymore Jensen/Dean stories?

I do have a one shot in my back pocket for Jensen atm and someone did ask if I'd do a Jensen series too which I am thinking over, with The Neighbour still going and my original story coming out (god knows when) I'm not sure if or when I'll do it.

Thanks for the ask lovely 😘

#ask pixie #reallyloudstudent asks #ask answered #the neighbour series #teddy series #supernatural dean #dean winchester #supernatural fanfic series

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kckenobi · 2 years ago

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hiiii!!!! 1, 15, and 27 for the asks?

Helloooooo!!! Hope you're having a lovely morning!

1: if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Oh boy hmmmm ummmm

the Star Wars prequels

You Might Not Like Her by Maddie Zahm (song)

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell

How to Love the World: Poems of Hope and Joy (book)

My fic Rhapsody in Blue

I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson (book)

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (poem)

Life Lesson by dodie (music)

One by Sleeping at Last (music)

Flute & Harp Arrangement of The Swan from Camille San-Saëns Carnival of the Animals (music)

15: five most influential books over your lifetime.

Oh god oh boy oh no. In no particular order

(1) The Book Thief by Markus Zusak: just the power of words, and the power of love in all its forms in the lowest of moments

(2) The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green: it's put a lot of things in a new perspective—the beauty of humanity and the horror of it, the fact that this planet will survive us, etc etc. Also has caused me to start rating random things on a 5-star scale so thanks for that

(3) I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson: for the concepts of loving your sibling and not knowing them at all, for them being half of your soul but not recognizing your own half.

(4) And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hossieni: for quotes like, "It was the kind of love that, sooner or later, cornered you into a choice: either you tore free or you stayed and withstood its rigor even as it squeezed you into something smaller than yourself."

(5) Everything Comes Next by Naomi Shihab Nye: a poetry anthology by my fave poet, for lines like, "I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do." And "So I’ll tell a secret instead: poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes, they are sleeping. They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the moment before we wake up. What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them." And "Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing."

27: do you feel like your outside appearance is a fair representation of the “real you”?

Hmm, I don't think I've ever really thought about this one! People definitely have made assumptions about me in the sense of like.....lanky, glasses, enormous frizzy hair = huge nerd. But they were also....correct lmao. It's taken time, but I don't think I have many issues with my outside appearance anymore--I still get a little self-conscious of my skin, but I'm generally pretty content. I'm not sure what assumptions people make now, but I try not to care too much!

Identity asks

#asks

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darveyfics · 7 years ago

Text

Darvey angst where she is feeling down on Christmas Eve and wants to be with Harvey. They don’t work together any more and she barely sees him any more.

Since Donna kissed Harvey they’ve been at a loose end, not talking for months and it gets to Christmas Day and Harvey realises what a dick he’s been and he turns up at donna’s parents house and admits he loves and wants her

Concept: Your arms are wrapped around me as we lay in bed. We talk and make jokes and call each other empty insults to make each other laugh. You press kisses to my cheek every so often and I can feel your fingers tracing my side. We’re finally together and everything feels right and happy. hungover in bed on New Year’s Day

AN: I may have gone a bit off prompt here, seeing as how this is only a NYE fic, and I took liberty with adding/omitting some details, but this was inspired by these set of prompts. Anywho, I hope you still enjoy and happy New Years!

“Resolutions”

“Ugh,” Donna turns off the television with a hard press on the remote, a sour expression on her face. She had spent the better part of the last half an hour summoning all of her effort to try and enjoy what she could during the last few hours before the new year. But in doing so, she had to succumb to seeing happy couples being displayed near Times Square, kissing and huddling close in the cold, even witnessing a couple of too-cheesy proposals. She couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t watch any more of the festivities when her heart was already in shambles.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she pushes herself off her couch, picking up her empty wine glass and walking over to her kitchen, where she pours herself another helping of red. Her eyes grow watery then, blurring her vision as she watches the crimson liquid filling the glass she held. Donna mentally curses herself, angrily wiping away a tear in the corner of her eye before it could make its way down her cheek. Picking up the glass, she lets out a small dry laugh as she brought it up to her lips. As the bitter taste meets her tongue, a knock nearly makes her spill her drink.

She freezes in place, her breath hitching as two familiar knocks follow. Slowly, the redhead deposits the glass on her kitchen island, watching as a few scarlet drops make their way to tint the white marble countertop.

“Donna,”

His muffled voice makes her eyes close on their own accord, her heart racing its way to rest in her throat, where an uncomfortable lump begins to form.

“Donna, it’s me.”

She stays frozen, hovering over her kitchen island, her knuckles turning white with the visceral grip she held on the counter, a meek attempt to keep herself upright lest she pass out. It’s the first time she’s heard his voice in days, the two glasses of wine already seeping into her system, making her limbs feel like jello upon hearing the low timbre in his voice. She finds herself unable to move, silently willing her former boss to leave, hoping he would get the hint with her lack of response.

“Donna, please, I know you’re in here. I went to your mom’s- she uh, she told me you’d be here.”

Donna finds herself cursing under her breath then. She had only told Louis of her New Year’s Eve plans- telling the name partner that she would probably make a trip up to Connecticut to visit her mom after having been invited to an end of the year party she was hosting alongside her latest flame- one apparently slightly less annoying than the last. And she had planned on going… until she found herself standing in front of her closet, trying to find something to wear, when another sudden wave of sadness washed over her and she couldn’t draw in enough energy to make herself look presentable, the thought of hanging around other other people, putting on a bubbly facade just to mask the current pain she felt and prevent an unwanted conversation with her mother making her feel dizzy. So, she had phoned the older woman, an apology on her lips as she lied through her teeth and told her mom that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t go.

Now, as she continues to grip her countertop, the metaphorical and physical wall separating her from Harvey seemingly growing thicker by the second, her mind starts to cloud over with a plethora of thoughts.

I went to your mom’s.

She wasn’t surprised he had towered over Louis until the shorter man broke under Harvey’s gaze, spilling her plans with no other option. What she did find surprising was that the man in question had driven all the way to Connecticut and back just to talk to her.

Donna shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, hoping her voice could carry its way over through the wall that separates her from the man that she had been equally avoiding for the past couple of days. It had been a mere two weeks since she had kissed him, planted a long-awaited, tension filled kiss as soon as he walked into her office. The arguments had started that night, when she found him on the rooftop of PSL, looking as confused and hurt and angry as she had ever seen him. The hurtful jabs hadn’t stopped there either. It had been a grave experience, having to dive into work everyday with someone she had considered to be her best friend- her confidant- her everything- only to fall victim to the backlash he had expelled on her.

It had been bite for bite, blame after blame, and she had stood her ground, never once faulting under his fierce gaze as he looked at her with what she could only surmise to be hurt, distrust, and something akin to betrayal. His words had cut deep, but she still showed up, countered his words with her own, exuding all the confidence she could muster so as to not break every time he looked at her.

She never expected him to jump into her arms after having kissed him, didn’t expect them to be anything, but she never expected the full continuous wave of anguish she felt every time he spoke to her. Even when she had caught wind that he and Paula had broken up, she still faced his wrath on occasion, until she had blown up on him. She had looked him square in the eye, told him she wouldn’t stand for his shit anymore, and would leave without so much as looking back if he didn’t stop treating her like his enemy.

That had been a few short days before, the sting of having spent Christmas alone growing ten-fold when he had all but bitten her head off the next morning, and she couldn’t take it anymore. He had backtracked with a look of surprise, and something reminiscent of guilt that she tried to push out her mind. Since then, they had barely crossed paths outside of important meetings, and even then they would use Louis as a buffer, the other name partner oblivious as to what was happening- either that, or he was uncharacteristically stepping out of the way.

Another set of taps on her door shook her out of her thought, his voice mirroring the defeat in his soft knocks.

“Donna… please.”

With a final sigh and a bitter taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with the wine she had been drinking, Donna makes her way to her front door. Her steps were measured and unsure, dragging herself until she stood in front of the piece of wood that separated her from him.

Before she could overthink it further, her hand reaches out, unlocking the door as she swings it open.

Her words catch in her throat as she looks him over- suit disheveled and sans tie, hair sticking up in all directions from when he must have raked his hands through it a dozen times. His brown eyes were nearly rimmed red, underlined by heavy bags to highlight his lack of sleep. She mentally thanked herself then for still donning that day’s makeup, hoping it would mask her own heavy eyes.

Clearing her throat, she musters up as much control as possible, “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” His gravely voice takes her by surprise, and if it weren’t for the lack of alcohol she could smell on his breath, she would’ve guessed he had been drinking.

“Talk about what?” Donna crosses her arms, shuffling her feet and glancing away from his pleading eyes, willing her heart rate to slow down.

“You know what.”

She scoffs then, tilting her head to fix him with a glare that was making her eyes sting, “You weren’t done yelling at me yet? Had a second wind you needed to exercise before you rung in the new year year?”

Her sarcastic words made his lips turn thin, his shoulders slumping at the way her voice cracked and he felt his heart doing the same. “That’s not what-”

“Thats not what?!” She demands, body canting forward in an effort to tower over him, the attempt falling short seeing as she was barefoot and a mere couple of inches shorter than him, “That’s not what you came here for? I’m sorry, I’m also not in the mood for another round of the blame game you were throwing at me, Harvey.”

“Donna,”

“No, I don’t want to hear it, I’m tired, okay? Can’t you see that? If you don’t-” she heaves out a breath, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing, “If you don’t… feel anything, then just let is rest, Harvey. Because I can’t take this anymore.”

Without a word, he’s stepping into her apartment, the sudden bold move taking her by surprise and she steps to the side in reflex. “I do!”

His expel makes her cant backward again, “Do what?” She presses, her eyebrows creased as she stares at the half flustered man before her.

“I do… feel something,” Harvey hisses, his eyes beginning to cloud over, chest rising and falling.

Donna closes her eyes at his small admission, flashbacks to a time in his office taking over her mind.

Love me how?

I told you that so I could make you feel better.

That’s because we have everything.

No, Harvey! You have everything!

So, are you saying you want everything?

“Feel what?” Donna finally opens her eyes, “Disgust? Betrayal? Because,” she lets out a humorless laugh, “That’s how you kept looking at me for the past two weeks.”

“I-”

“You’ve never been able to tell me how you really feel, haven’t you? Goddammit, Harvey, I really don’t know how much more of this I can take,” a few tears slide down her cheek as her voice breaks, hugging herself close in a futile attempt to protect herself.

“Donna, please, I just-” His mouth hangs open then, the rest of his words caught in his throat again, and he swallows past the lump that blocks his untimely confession.

“What, Harvey? I’m right here, what the hell is it that you have to say?” Her hazel eyes plead with him, and she hears the distinct sounds of fireworks going off in the distance, knowing that midnight was just right around the corner and the festivities outside her apartment were in full swing now.

“I love you,” he growls in the next second, propelling forward to cup her face in his hands, slanting his lips over hers in a bruising kiss.

Donna always prided herself in seemingly knowing what was going to happen next, what people were thinking, were feeling… but in that moment, with Harvey’s lips firmly pressed against hers, she could confidently say, she never saw it coming.

Her body stays frozen against him, lips barely pursed against his own unmoving ones. It wasn’t until his head tilts to the side, pulling on her upper lip with the gentlest of tugs, does she come alive. Her hands grip the the lapels of his jack, needing something to hold onto as she feels herself falling under a dizzy spell as his tongue snakes into her mouth in a torturous pace. Their lips move over each other like long time lovers, his familiar taste intoxicating her senses, fueling an inner desire she had thought she had suppressed. Her hands find their way to his hair, pulling on the short strands and eliciting a low groan to leave his lips. Before she could fully mold her body to his, he’s pulling back, and it takes her a near full minute to open her eyes.

What she sees makes her knees buckle, and if it weren’t for his hold on her, she was sure she would’ve fallen.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” his eyes are screwed shut, tears free falling down his cheeks as his voice breaks with every word.

Donna feels herself swallowing, her own eyes blurring as she watches Harvey- the man she has only seen cry purely two or three times in all the years that they’ve known each other. His hands slide down from her cheeks then, making their way to rest on her waist as his forehead lands on hers, prompting her own eyes to close.

“God, Donna, I’m-” he shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth as he tries to render in some control, “I’m so sorry,” his eyes finally find hers when he lifts his head, his tears clouding his vision.

“Harvey-”

“I was an asshole, I- I treated you like shit and- I don’t deserve you,” She tries not to get distracted by the way his hands caress her skin over the sweater she wore, his eyes boring into her own in the dim light of her foyer. Donna swallows back the ever-growing lump in her throat, trying to breathe through the stuttering in her chest.

“I fucked up. I screwed up everything because I was too damn proud, too upset, too- confused to tell you…” His voice trails off as he looks at her, the rest of his words getting clogged up amidst the fear and uneasiness he felt bubbling up inside.

“Tell me what?” His earlier confession echoes in her mind, those three little words replaying like a broken record, making her feel dizzier by the second

“I’m not good at this Donna,” he admits on an exhale, looking every bit as nervous and vulnerable as she had ever seen him.

She purses her lips then, shifting slightly in her stance as her hold on his biceps stays in place, “At telling me how you really feel? Yeah, I’ve noticed,” agitation pulls at her again, and she tries to keep her frustration at bay, hoping he could somehow find it in him to tell her.

“You think this is easy for me? Being here? Pouring myself out to you?” She nearly flinches at the way his voice grows an octave higher, but she holds her ground, stepping away from him in the next second.

“Do you think it was easy for me? Having to go into work everyday to see the man I’ve considered as a best friend for over a decade look at me like I was the worst thing to ever happen to him? To treat me like absolute crap because one little thing I did?”

“You kissed me while I was still with Paula! How else did you expect me to react?”

“I expected you to not talk down to me or make me feel like absolute shit after the one time in the last thirteen goddamn years I decided to put myself first!”

Her outburst is like a splash of cold water on him, her voice growing hoarse as the tears slide down, staining her already flushed cheeks.

“Donna,” guilt rises in him, and he takes a step forward again, wincing when she takes a step back in response.

“God, we always end up here, don’t we?” Her dry laugh is followed by another set of fireworks going off in the distance, preceding an echo of laughs and cheers from the street patrons outside of her apartment.

“Where?” He asks her gently, staying put this time.

“Here! With us arguing and you not being able to tell me whatever the hell it is that you want!”

“I want you!”

She doubles back at his words, her eyes widening and matching his own as he tries and fails to keep his emotions and breathing in check.

“Goddammit, Donna, I-” he rubs his hands over his tired face, his eyes appearing more red than they had been when he had arrived just minutes earlier, “I want more,” he echoes the words she had told him almost a year before. Her mouth hangs open in surprise, silently willing her brain to come alive and provide her with a set of words to throw back in his face, but none come.

“I want- everything with you,” Harvey takes a tentative step toward her, taking advantage of her still frame to take her hands in his own, using his thumb to run circles over her smooth skin.

“Harvey-”

“I’m in love with you,” his eyes study her, taking in the way her lips part at his confession, the words finally slipping out with an unexpected ease. He brings a hand to wipe away the tears that continue to slide down her cheeks, his fingers lingering on her warm skin, “I’m sorry it took me too damn long to realize, to tell you.”

Donna can only nod in turn then, blinking back more emotions as they cascade down her face. “Why-”

“Did it take me so long to tell you?” He murmurs his question, taking another tentative step toward her to gather her in his arms. At her nod, he heaves out a breath, shaking his head, “I’m a goddamn idiot, for one, but I was scared.”

“Of what?” Comes her hoarse response, reaching up to wipe away his own set of tears and he can’t stop himself from taking hold of her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist, the action making her breath hitch.

“Of losing you,” he whispers, his face nearly growing numb when she starts to caress his cheek, “of- misreading your signal, and potentially screwing things up, which, happened anyway because I’m a complete moron, and I was upset with you, but mostly at myself, and I was angry because you kissed me and I was with someone else and I didn’t know what to do, not at first-”

“Harvey-” She tries to interrupt his rambling, but falls short when he continues to rant.

“And even after I broke up with Paula, I was still angry and confused, and it was just an excuse, because that was easier than dealing with what really mattered, who really mattered-”

“Harvey-”

“And God, Donna, I know there’s no excuse, I treated you like shit, and I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve your forgiveness or even your heart, but I do love you, in every goddamn way I know how to love and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you to just that, because I don’t just need you in my life, I never did just need you, I want you,” Harvey takes a moment to expel another breath, watching her own face nearly crumpling and he curses himself for putting that amount of pain in her, “And if you’ll let me…”

Her lips are on his in a flash, her arms winding around him, nearly making him tumble forward as she pulls herself up on her tiptoes. It only takes him a second to react, his own arms wrapping around her until she was flush against him. Their kiss grows frantic quickly, their lips tangling with their teeth, tugging and pulling in between slides of tongues that has them spilling out twin moans of pleasure and want and need.

“Donna,” Harvey breathes in between kisses, groaning when she pulls at his bottom lip, sliding her tongue inside his hot mouth again, and it takes everything in him not to push her up against the nearest surface.

“Donna, wait,” she lets out a whimper of disapproval when his lips detach from hers. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation, for the way his pants started to grow tighter against every hot breath she exhaled against him, he would’ve laughed at the cute way in which she pouted at him.

“Hey,” he breathes out, using a hand to lock a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, reaching forward to press a feather light kiss to her cheek.

“What is it?” She whispers on a low pant.

“I’m just- I’m really sorry. For everything. I- I hurt you and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

Donna frowns when another tear slides down his cheek, and she reaches out to wipe it away, her raised feet planting themselves down on her hardwood floor, “I know. You already said-”

Harvey shakes his head, “I just don’t feel like it’s enough. Like it won’t ever be enough.”

Her hand slides down to his lips, slightly caressing the swollen flesh as her eyes look up to meet his, “You did screw up, I think we both did in some way,” she lets out a sigh, “but I already spent the last two weeks feeling miserable and sorry for myself, and hating you just a little bit for how you made me feel,” she doesn’t miss the way his eyes cloud over more at her words, “and I think what we both deserve right now is to be happy, don’t you think?”

“So… you forgive me?” His voice is small when he speaks, and she lets her lips curl up slightly at the ounce of hope in him.

“Yeah, Harvey, I do.”

“Why?” He croaks out, his forehead knit as his eyes rake over her form, nearly becoming dizzy as her scent fills him.

“Because, so help me God, I’m in love with you too.” Her half shrug and laugh makes his chest flutter with something he doesn’t think he’s felt in a long time. He struggles to fight against the way his lips twitch at her words, and he shuffles his feet forward until their lips are grazing each other, their eyes brightly transfixed on one another.

“I’m not going to screw things up,” he promises her then, determination growing in his voice.

Donna hums in response, her hands sliding up his chest until her right hand is resting over his heart, “You better not,” he lets out a watery chuckle at the way she quirks an eyebrow at him, and her own mirth mirrors his.

They sober up in the next second, matching serious expressions on their faces as the gravity of the situation settles in then.

“I am sorry,” Harvey finds himself repeating, his voice low against her.

“I know,” Donna whispers back. Their arms are around each other the next second, pulling each other close together, a tight hold forming around each other.

“I’ve missed you,” her whispers against her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” she tells him, though she has an inkling as to what he means.

“Felt like you did, and I know it’s my own damn fault,” his defeated sigh makes her pull back, her eyes raking over his tired form, eyes still reddened from his tears, guilt written all over his face. She hears more fireworks echoing in the distance now, followed by another round of cheers, and she guesses they were slowly inching their way to midnight.

“You really need to stop beating yourself up, Specter,” she murmurs against him, lifting up on her toes to plant a kiss against his mandible.

“I’m not sure I know how,” he lets out a sigh, his eyes pleading and tired all the same.

“I think I can find a way,” Donna whispers, running a manicured hand through the short strands of his hair.

She almost laughs at the way his brows furrow, confusion written in his still slightly solemn expression, and a sudden giddiness overcomes her when she realizes she can kiss the pout right off his face.

So she does just that.

It takes him a moment to register what’s happening, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, much like the way he had done when she had kissed him a mere weeks before. And just as he had done then, his demeanor relaxes within seconds, melting right against her, except this time, she doesn’t pull back, his hands are around her, and he reels her in further.

When her hands slide down his chest, blindly undoing the buttons on his dress shirt, his lips pull back from her, “Donna,” he nearly lets out a whimper when her nails sneak inside his shirt, lightly scratching against his skin, “Donna, are you sure?”

Her lips part from his with a smacking sound, hazel eyes appearing black at the way her pupils have dilated. In the distance, she can vaguely make out a countdown.

20… 19...

Her hands slide up to his shoulders, and in anticipation, he’s hoisting her up, her legs wrapping around his form, the move making them stumble forward. Twin laughs leave them, their teeth clashing in a hurried kiss as he tightens his hold on her, making sure she’s safely secured in his arms.

“Careful, mister, you’re carrying precious goods here,” she murmurs against his lips.

17… 16…

Harvey chuckles at her words, moving in the direction of her bedroom when he finally finds his footing, “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

15… 14…

It’s a mission and a half to get to her bedroom without dropping her, thanks to the way her lips are teasing the curve of his jaw, taking her time to nip and suck at his skin.

12… 11…

When he finally reaches her room, he makes a beeline for the bed, maneuvering in the dark through a space he had only occupied once before.

9… 8…

Depositing her on the bed, she lets out a fit of giggles, the sound nearly foreign to her after weeks of tears and anger. He lets out his own string of chuckles, reaching down to plant a kiss to her lips, his hand moving her golden locks out of the way, until he’s fully able to look into her eyes.

6… 5…

“Hey,” he whispers, his lips hovering over hers.

“Hey back.”

4… 3…

“I love you,”

2… 1…

Before she can register what’s happening, his lips are landing on hers in another toe-curling kiss, the force of which nearly knocking her off kilter, and she thanks her lucky stars she was already lying down. A string of fireworks go off right outside, one after the other, repeatedly for what feels like ages. She nearly chuckles against him then, the humor of fireworks going off while the love of her life was kissing her not missing her.

“Happy New Year’s, Donna,” his Cheshire Cat grin evokes one of her own, and she’s suddenly feeling light-headed with an overwhelming sense of joy.

“Happy New Year’s, Harvey,” the second the words leave her lips, his mouth is slanting over hers again, and the cacophony of fireworks outside is soon diluted by the rapid beating of her heart, the rhythm growing ten-fold as his own starts to match hers in perfect synchrony.

His body is molded to hers, right arm strewn across her form over the covers, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“You okay?” Harvey presses a kiss to her temple, watching as her breathing now settles into a full leveled rhythm.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” she sends him a grin over her shoulder, reaching up as best she could in her current position, angling her head to meet his lips in a chaste kiss.

“I could just hear you thinking pretty loudly,” his fingers caress her arm in an up and down pattern, the feeling evoking goosebumps on her skin.

She lets out a snort at his words, “What? You a mind reader now?”

He chuckles against her, the vibrations alighting her skin on fire, and she bites her lip at the sheer memory of what they were doing just minutes before.

“No,” he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, settling his head on the pillow they shared and coaxing her to turn around until she was fully facing him, “You just seem quiet, is all.”

Her face softens at his words, and her lips curl up into a coy smile, “Yeah well, you tired me out,” she playfully pokes his chest then and he squirms in response.

“Ooh, I forgot you were ticklish,” her eyes grow brighter then, and Harvey takes hold of her hands, swallowing back the slight fear that bubbles up.

“Don’t you dare, Paulsen,” he warns in a low growl.

Donna rolls her eyes in response, a smirk playing on her lips at his sudden semi-panicked demeanor.

“Relax, Harvey,” she lets out a dramatic sigh, bringing her hand up to comb through his hair, “I’m a little too tired to play right now.”

His eyebrows comically wiggle at her words, and she lets out a snort that mixes in with a girly giggle, “You’re ridiculous,” she lets out.

“I’m a very lucky man, is what I am,” he puffs out his chest the best way he could whilst horizontal, causing her to shake her head.

“And cheesy,” she retorts, leaning forward to peck his lips.

“Hmm, I think I’ve found my rights to a couple of sappy words tonight.”

“You were pretty impressive,” Donna purrs against him, teasingly pulling on his bottom lip, causing him to emit a low growl.

“I thought you were tired,” he hums against her, shifting until he was hovering over her again.

Donna licks her lips in response, her eyes hungrily raking over his bare chest, “I changed my mind,” she shrugs.

Harvey shakes his head at her antics, leaning down to start a torturous trail from her jaw to her neck, where he pauses to suck on her pulse point. She finds herself closing her eyes then, the feel of his lips mixed with his tongue on her skin making the room around her start to spin.

“I can’t believe you really drove all the way to Connecticut to look for me,” she breathes out when his lips leave her skin for a second, and the fog in her mind clears up. His head lifts from its place, hovering just over her exposed chest.

Her sudden admission makes his forehead knit in confusion, and he wills his mind to clear up just long enough to take in her words. “What?”

She lets out a small chuckle at the perplexed look he gives her, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “Earlier, you said you went to my mom’s in Connecticut, and then you drove back… on New Year’s Eve, when you realized I wasn’t there.”

“Would it be cheesy if I said I would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to look for you?” He kisses the inside of her palm, giving her a shy look as he still hovered over her.

Donna snorts, “Yeah, a bit.”

“Thought so.”

They share sheepish smiles before Harvey leans down to press a kiss to her lips, just because he could. “I would’ve, you know?”

“I know,” she assures him quietly, her lips turning up.

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot in love,” he sighs dramatically, and realizes all of her dramatic flares have already started to rub off on him.

“That makes two of us,” she murmurs against him before pulling him down for a kiss, “except for the idiot part,” he chuckles against her when she pulls him down for another kiss, their lips melding together, their tongues taking turns to sneak in and tease, tasting each other all over again.

“What?” She giggles against him, watching him in amusement as he breaks their kiss with an uncontrollable fit of chuckles.

Harvey shakes his head, his eyes crinkling with humor and love and something so light he dares to call happiness- pure unbridled joy- settles in his chest.

“I just realized… we basically rung in the new year with a bang.”

She stares up at his slightly flushed expression, eyes bright and wide, staring down at her like she was the best and only thing that mattered in this world. It takes her a full two seconds before she’s doubling back with laughter, the sheer noise making him falter and he’s nearly crushing her as his cackles grow alongside her own.

It’s a while before their laughter subsides, the room saturated with their mingled heavy breathing. Still, little outburst of giggles tumble out of her every time she meets his gaze, and she finds herself wiping away the tears that escape, this time solely due to the joy he had elicited in her.

“That- really shouldn’t have been as funny as it was,” She chuckles, drunk on the feeling of laughing alongside her best friend turned lover, the thought alone enticing another string of endorphins to run along her body.

“And yet…” Harvey grins, kissing the corner of her mouth before he settles next to her again, his body falling heavily against the mattress and he’s reeling her in to him again.

Donna shakes her head, her eyes rolling on reflex. “God, I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

Harvey’s face sobers up for a moment, his smile fading ever so slightly at her words, “Well, I may have just found my new year’s resolution.”

She sends him a quizzical look, her eyes curious and amused, “And what’s that?”

“I’m gonna spend the rest of the year,” he leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, “the rest of my life,” he presses another to her parted lips, “making you laugh, making you happy.”

Her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears and she blinks them back in attempt to keep them from falling. A fluttering settles in her stomach and she heaves out a shaky breath as she inches herself closer to him, her hand finding its way to rest on his cheek as she finds her smile mirroring his.

“Well, you’re already off to a great start, Specter.”

#darvey #darvey fic #author: ali #one shot #rated t #holiday #new years #prompt

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