I'm on mobile so I can't access the master list, but did you already do recs for single dad au with either Yuuri or Victor as the dad? I'm sorry for the inconvenience!
I haven’t done this list yet, and I’m downright ashamed of myself for not doing so! This is such a great AU, thank you for requesting!
Single Dad AU
starstruck by shizuoh, Teen, 57k (WIP) In which yuuri is a simple barista, viktor is a famous movie star, and yuri is an 8 year old kid stuck in the middle of it. Love!
We Close At Six by beAUtiful (future_fishy), 5.3k (WIP) Yuuri works at the rental desk of an ice rink. Viktor is a business man who happens to go to said ice rink every day after work. Throw in an adopted son, a gossipy best friend and a lot of mutual pining and you get this. Great fic so far!
A Moment Like This by neeharu, Mature, 19k (WIP) Through the journey of learning how to become a father, Viktor is captured by the adorable beauty of Yuri’s kindergarten teacher, Yuuri Katsuki who seems to have a knack for children, skating and smiles- everything Viktor was searching for. LOVE!!
Sensei, Onegai Shimasu by TheSilentOtaku, Teen, 16k (WIP) The fic in which Viktor Nikiforov is a single father, Yuri Plisetsky is Viktor’s six-year-old son with an obsession with tigers and crayons, and Yuuri Katsuki is the cute first grade teacher that Viktor can’t seem to get out of his mind. Amazing fic!
From A Random Playing Card by Noitratoxin, Gen, 13k (WIP) In training premier danseur, Katsuki Yuuri, under the guidance of Lilia Baranovskaya was asked to train the new generation of Russian figure skaters in ballet and found himself with a 4 year old Yuri Plisetsky, adopted son of the one Viktor Nikiforov, clinging to his legs demanding he comes home with him. Lovely single dad AU ft. dancer!Yuuri!
Storytime by PiggyInTheMiddle, Teen, 11k (WIP) Victor takes custody of his orphaned nephew Yuri. He’s having a little bit of trouble. So cute!
Stay Close to Me by Teabunny, Mature, 16k (WIP) Throughout the years, Viktor held that tiny hand like a lifeline, coaxing Yuri through infancy and adolescence, both on and off the ice. The sound of skates scraping that cold surface was likely Yuri’s first cognizant memory. Thumbs up!
real - victuuri by volleycatnika, Teen, 15k (WIP) Yakov tells Victor and his son, Yurio, that they should interact with and do more for the public. Somehow they end up restoring an old ice rink and Japan, where they live for a year.
The Ties That Bind by QueBae, Gen, 7.2k (WIP) The first time Viktor saw Yuri Plisetsky was by pure chance at a private rink in Moscow, skating for his dedushka. He thought they would never meet again but it seemed he was lucky in life. Great fic so far, can’t wait for more!
Hot For Teacher by i_like_my_eggs_benedict, Teen, 10k (WIP) Victor is late for a parent-teacher conference with Yuri’s super-strict teacher. Forced to wait outside the classroom for his inevitable fate, he meets Yuuri Katsuki: Yuri’s former teacher. A really cute, smart, funny guy. Who’s also really hot. LOVE THIS SO MUCH
Lessons in Love by fangirlandiknowit, Mature, 21k (WIP) All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he’ll do. He just didn’t expect to become a fan, too. Fabulous fic! Highly recommend!
Starting Anew by timid_turtle_timi, Gen, 1.6k Viktor Nikiforov has retired from his competitive skating, now coaching his young protege Yuri Plisetsky as he trains for his senior debut. In the same city Katsuki Yuuri handles his shattered self esteem, and takes on a new career teaching physical education during the day, and children’s figure skating in the evenings. Check out the rest of the series too!
Chapters: 1/6 (22k/75k) Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Anne Cox, Gemma Styles, Harry’s nan, Nev Schulman, Max Joseph, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Catfish AU, Social Media, Pining, Angst, Smut, Masturbation, A Lot Of Masturbation, Sexting, Phone Sex
About a week after Harry started visiting this particular chat room, he was watching some kid argue with the whole room about football, personally disinterested as he tipped a bag of crisps into his mouth. He happily chomped on the crumbs, taking a swig from a glass of Ribena to wash them down, glancing at the screen and very nearly spat the squash back out again.
His heart was pounding wildly. The display icon of the argumentative newcomer had caught his eye, and not in a good way. He gulped as he clicked the picture, and when it popped up in full resolution, his heart nearly fell right out of his arse.
Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.
I read your hannigram fic with each chapter being a new soulmate prompt- and I thought I'd propose the "You have a tattoo of how old you both are when you meet" one?? I mean, probs not as angsty as some other options but still some good possibilities!!
The morning Will turns 38 he pulls the covers over his head and screams.
He is not ready for this. He does not want this, did not sign up for it, he was not asked if he was okay with being cosmically tied to someone he’s never met.
He can hide in bed for a year, right?
He calls in sick to work and spends the day rubbing the glowing 3846 on the inside of his arm, hoping if he concentrates hard enough he can make it go away.
He meets Hannibal Lecter when he is 38 years and seven months old.
He knows right away, from the itch under his sleeve. Hannibal looks the right age, though there’s no chance to glimpse his mark underneath the bespoke suit layers. He asks anyway.
“How old are you Doctor Lecter?”
Hannibal smiles coolly. “45.”
Will tries not to be disappointed. He didn’t want this anyway. And a psychiatrist for a soulmate would probably be unbearable.
It’s just, he’s handsome - but more than that, he’s interesting. Erudite but a little strange. They might have been suited for each other, in another life.
Also his cheekbones could cut glass and Will wants to lick them.
When’s your birthday? Will wants to ask. Is it in the next five months? Can you handle a man with a broken brain? Have you ever sucked a dick before?
A darker, deeper voice inside him wants to ask Can I suck yours?
“You want to know when my birthday is,” Hannibal observes.
Will really hopes Hannibal didn’t intuit any of his other questions.
“No,” Will says too quickly. “Why would I want to know that?”
“Because your arm is burning. You’re rubbing at the skin where your mark should be. I assume there is a 46 next to your 38?”
“How do you know I’m 38?”
Hannibal doesn’t answer. Instead he crowds in on Will, walking him backwards until his back bumps against the ladder in his office.
“My birthday is next week,” Hannibal purrs.
He cups Will’s shoulder in one hand and his hip in the other.
“I assume I’ll feel a similar itch then.”
His lips are so, so close. Will shudders and his head flops back, thumping softly against the ladder.
“How do you know?” Will breathes.
Hannibal leans in close and honest-to-God smells Will. Loud and extravagant. He makes a pleased, rumbling sound like a big cat.
“I know,” Hannibal whispers in his ear. His breath is hot and sends shivers ghosting from Will’s spine to his fingertips. Hannibal begins kneading his hip with his left hand, and the hand cupping his shoulder slides up to caress his face, long fingers sinking into Will’s disheveled curls.
“What are you d–”
His words are swallowed by Hannibal’s greedy mouth, who licks and paws at him with almost violent need. It’s an extraordinary first kiss, far from polite and just on the right side of filthy. Hannibal widens his stance and Will squeezes the meat of his ass with a growl.
When did he grab Hannibal’s ass? Never mind, he doesn’t care. At some point his shirt became half-buttoned and Hannibal is now biting his nipple, nothing matters except the heated press of their bodies and the rocketing of his heart.
Then Hannibal tears his mouth away and steps back. Will whimpers and reaches for him but Hannibal keeps his distance.
“I have always loathed the concept of soulmates.” Hannibal’s voice is low and gruff. “The very idea of being tied to someone at the moment of my birth - a person whose identity I have no control over - it has always sickened me.”
Will licks his lips and sucks in a breath.
“I was determined to never meet my soulmate, and if I could not prevent that, I would reject them.”
Will’s stomach drops. Fuck.
“And then I met you.” Hannibal rubs the pad of his fingertips over his swollen mouth. “From the instant you walked in here, I wanted.”
A shaky smile dances over Will’s face. Hannibal mirrors it.
“I know the feeling,” Will says.
“Well.” Hannibal steps back into his space, hands at Will’s waist as he pulls him close to his chest. Beneath the cotton of his shirt, Will’s mark burns like fire. He’s starting to feel dizzy.
“Let us show Fate what she has done in bringing us together.”
Will’s eyes drift closed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean.” Hannibal leans in and nips at his ear. “That together.” He kisses Will’s throat, holds his mouth open over Will’s pulse.
Summary: Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.
Word Count: 1,776
Warnings: Swearing, smut, lots of detailed smut
After that, the rest of the evening seemed to pass by in a blur. Sure, you were concerned about Bucky leaving for his business trip. Your relationship was only just beginning to heal. Who knew what the extended time apart could do. It had the potential to be extremely damaging, but it also might help. Nevertheless, you felt strangely calm.
The conversation flowed easily over dinner, and by desert, you found yourself laughing and smiling again, the nervousness now gone completely. You were still a bit shaky after Bucky’s earlier confession, but that discussion could wait until a more opportune time. Slowly, the Bucky you knew and loved was beginning to come back.
Stiles was tipsy, he hadn’t meant to get that way, but he was nervous. It was his big night, his first solo record release party, but he wasn’t in the partying mood.
He knew that he should be mingling, chatting with some of the A List celebrities that Lydia have gotten to the party, but instead he was sitting at the back of the room with a bottle of Jack in one hand. He felt like he was still a new kid on the scene, standing at the back of the room to avoid talking to strangers.
The thing was, he looked every bit the rockstar that he was suppose to be with his artfully mussed hair that made him look like he had spent the day having sex, his jeans that were sinfully tight, his black button down was unbuttoned to show his patch of chest hair, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He looked the part and he was tipsy enough to try to play the part, but he knew if he tried to stand up from his spot on the floor he’d fall over and he’d probably say something stupid to the likes of Erica Reyes or Kira, no last name, the two ethereal pop goddesses that Lydia had managed to get in attendance.
“Hey,” A familiar voice said from above Stiles and he closed his eyes. There was no way Derek was here, they hadn’t spoken in months. Stiles didn’t look up, he was sure he was hallucinating. Maybe he had had more to drink than he thought
I got so many lovely recommendations this week! Thank you! Read until the very end for an announcement!
If you do not see your recommendation it means that it will be on nextweek’s list!
Rec’d by anonymous: lie to make me like you by cityboys, Mature, 80k Victor is a retired actor looking for love, and Yuuri happens to be the (un)fortunate soul to unwittingly ask him out at the beginning of the month. Except relationships don’t come with a script, and it’s much harder understanding love than roles.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Rec’d by anonymous: Each Sip Like Starlight by cloverfield, Mature, 13k There are two beds here – both identical, made up neat with hotel linen and pillows piled high. They’re only going to need one.
Rec’d by anonymous: Until You Return to Me by BatMads, Teen, 35k (WIP) Yuuri and Victor are in St. Petersburg together at last, but when Yuuri has difficulty adjusting to the transition and tragedy strikes, it seems as though they may be separated forever. Now they struggle to find their way back to each other when the universe seems to conspire against a happy ending.
Rec’d by anonymous: High-Flying, Adored by terra_incognita, Gen, 26k Yuuri is new to this whole superhero thing, but he thinks he’s more or less got the hang of it. Moonlighting as Eros, he’s taken up the mask to protect the people of Hasetsu from a surprising wave of organized crime.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Rec’d by anonymous: An Inch Too Much by AgapantoBlu, Mature, 5.7k An unwanted flashback of his past was the last thing Viktor needed before Yuuri’s Rostelecom Cup and in between that, the pressure of being back in Russia and Makkachin suddenly hurting, he feels crushed.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Rec’d by anonymous: Entwining Fates by rinsled05, Teen, 27k Imagine, then, if a young Japanese wizard by the name of Yuuri Katsuki had transferred to Hogwarts to escape his past, just in time to meet a Russian Quidditch player who would blow open the very doors he was trying so desperately to close.
Rec’d by anonymous: We Close At Six by beAUtiful (future_fishy), Explicit, 5.3k (WIP) Yuuri works at the rental desk of an ice rink. Viktor is a business man who happens to go to said ice rink every day after work. Throw in an adopted son, a gossipy best friend and a lot of mutual pining and you get this.
Rec’d by anonymous: With The Engine Inside by RC_McLachlan, Explicit, 2k Victor brought this on himself. Immaculate Dream, Made Breath and Skin by RC_McLachlan, Explicit, 2.8k Almost half his life has been spent training for the day that Victor Nikiforov takes him to bed, so when it finally happens after the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri’s prepared. More than prepared: he’s ready. No one’s ever touched him as a lover, sure, but there’s nothing that he hasn’t already dreamed about doing or having done to him to make anything that could happen a shock.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Rec’d by @skatinggays: Fatum ad Momentum by maydei, Teen, 18k (WIP) A re-evaluation of everything, from day one, the real day one. From, “Be my coach, Victor!!” And how trust, friendship, and love were built from there. Through Victor’s eyes, the story unfolds—the journey and experience of knowing Yuuri.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Rec’d by anonymous: Tale of Sleeping Prince by LittleSnow00, Teen, 49k (WIP) From when he was 5, Yuuri Katsuki knew he was different. And he chose to ignore his gift until he met a certain spirit under the cherry blossom petals. My Sanctuary by sophia191203, Mature, 17k (WIP) Omegas are rare… like super rare… Male omegas, even more so. Yuuri is one. How is he going to tell Victor?
Rec’d by @harlequinade-13: Rise Above the Tides by Kashoku, Explicit, 34k Yuuri was going to go out on top, just like Viktor had. He was going to win gold in his third World’s appearance and then retire to spend the rest of his life with his husband. But when a freak accident during his finale free skate leaves him blind, Yuuri finds himself spiraling into a world darker than the one in front of his eyes and he must learn to Rise.
Thank you for all your recs! ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎
P.S. I am opening submissions for YOI Fan Rec Friday art/gif/edit banners! Please don’t feel pressured to make anything if you don’t want to, but if you love creating art/gifs/edits and want to create a YOI themed (preferably Victuuri, but I don’t mind!) banner for my YOI Fan Rec Friday posts, send it into my submissions box and it may be selected! 🎉 To thank you, I’ll make a whole fic rec list of whatever you would like (as long as it’s within my fic rec guidelines!) and infinite thanks and internet hugs from me ☺️
okay so i LOVE mulan okay. as far as i’m concerned it’s a Perfect Movie and doesn’t need any fixing. but i was thinking today and -
- what if mulan didn’t go to war to save her father?
say her father is dead, okay, killed by the previous war. so she’s raised by her mother and grandmother, women who’s complacency and softness has been worn away by necessity. she needs to marry well, for her family’s sake, because her mother has refused the hand of every man who offered. but mulan is even more rough around the edges than before, is educated not only in books (her mother said men wouldn’t find smarts attractive and grandmother pointed out that men aren’t always around and off to school mulan went) but in the sword too, taught to her by her classmate, ping.
mulan is considered in the lower end of the upper class, coming from a family of military men and scholars and successful merchants. ping is near the top, the son or nephew of an advisor to the emperor. his family is very rich and very important, and the reason they become friends is because mulan manages to notice something about him that he’s been hiding from everyone else - he’s going blind.
not totally blind, enough to get around, but blind enough that reading is difficult and swordplay is even worse, although once he has it down he has it. ping is no fool, he’s not weak or bumbling. his eyes just don’t work. so mulan notices and confronts him about it. she promises to keep it a secret, and hey, she’ll even help him with his assignments by reading the books out loud and helping him study. but in return he must teach her the sword, must teach her about military and tactics. he agrees.
ping and mulan become very good friends and there’s some raised eyebrows about it but they are TOO far away in class for it to be inappropriate, so they make tutting sounds and disapproving faces and let it go.
then the draft happens. ping can’t go to war, he won’t survive it. not with his eyesight like it is. so mulan offers him a deal - she’ll go to war for him, in his place. in return, if she survives, he must marry her. if she dies he must take care of her family.
ping can’t make this kind of family decision on his own, so he goes to his mother and tells her everything, about the eyesight and how he’ll die if he goes and mulan’s offer. his mother says he must keep it a secret from his father, but agrees - if mulan fights in her son’s place and survives, a wedding will be arranged. either way, mulan’s family will be taken care of. ping will be sent to live with some cousins in the meanwhile.
“you’re not in love with me, are you?” ping asks, helping mulan saddle her horse in the middle of the night. she scoffs and rolls her eyes, “not even a little. but marrying you will make my family happy, and besides, you’re my best friend,” she says, smiling, “better you than some grabby old man.” he smiles and hugs her and says, “i’m not in love with you either. but don’t die out there. we have a wedding to plan.”
so mulan goes to the camp, pretending to be ping, and she’s a little bit less lost but things still go as they go. she’s educated and trained, so it’s not hard for her to pass as ping. shang is keeping a special eye on her, thinking that she’s the son of an advisor, one of his father’s friends. and he sees how easily she excels, how quick thinking and smart she is, and starts giving her more and more responsibilities. by the time they’re called out, shang considers ping ie mulan to be his right hand man, and possibly his best friend.
he’s also a little bit in love with ping, and he’s long known he’s attracted to both genders, so he watches ping laugh and smile and the crease between his eyes when he frowns and does his best to let his feelings chase away the best soldier he has. every time shang looks at ping his heart clenches and he things to himself: i wish i could have you, i wish this was a time and a place where one man could have another, i wish you were a girl, is wish i was a girl - i wish we could be together. he’s literally a step away from doodling ‘li ping’ with little hearts over his battle plans.
so the battles happen. shang and ping lead their men together, respected and loved. they each get promoted, and promoted, and promoted. it’s been years, and it comes to a point where they’re both generals in their own right. they trust each other, care for each other. and are both secretly in love with the other.
mulan is so conflicted. because she wants this war to end and to go home and settle back into life and become ping’s wife, so she can have an easy life spent studying and learning with her family taken care of. that’s what she’d wanted. but now what she wants is shang, her best friend, her brother in arms, her fellow general. she wishes to be everything to him, aches to be the woman on his arm and in his bed, but knows it’s the one thing she can never be.
then that final battle happens. mulan’s quick thinking saves them all and ends the war - but she’s injured.
shang finds out the ping has been a girl all along. he demands explanations - so she tells him everything, that she traded places with ping to save him, to become his wife.
and the lies should sting the sharpest, but they don’t. she’s still the same person, after all. it’s that she’s promised to another man, for one second he’d thought he might have her, but no. so he agrees not to reveal her but he’s furious and furious at himself for being furious and they’re not the same now, broken and splintered and neither of them know what to do.
the war is over. they leave. mulan returns home, and thanks to her ping is now known as a respected general. she’s done her part and survived, and now she gets her reward - ping’s hand in marriage.
but she sees ping for the first time and flings herself into his arms and starts crying. she tells him everything, because he’s still her friend, her very best friend besides shang, the man whom she lied to and betrayed and loves. and ping listens and takes her by the shoulders and says - i’ll uphold our bargain, if that’s what you want. you can be my pampered wife, you’ve more than earned it. but if you want to go to shang, i won’t blame you. you deserve your happiness.
and mulan goes back and forth, but ultimately she decides she has to try. if shang rejects her she’ll return and marry ping and uphold her family honor. but if shang wants her - he’s not as high up as ping, but he’s high up enough to satisfy her family, and also she would love him and want him if he was no more than a farming peasant so it doesn’t matter much anyway.
she rides to the capitol. she finally meets ping’s father, running into him while looking for shang. “ah mulan,” says this man who was never supposed to know of her until she became his daughter-in-law, “i didn’t expect to see you here. how fortuitous. walk with me.” she does, wary, and that’s how she discovers - he and the emperor had discovered her deception a year in, but at that point she’d already proven herself too skilled and valuable to lose. he tells her that he will uphold his son and wife’s deal and gladly welcome her to his household - but that she’s earned her rank as general, and that he and the emperor have no problem with letting her keep it.
she says thank you, shocked and joyful, but that she has to talk to someone first. “ah, yes, young general li,” he says, eyes twinkling, “i do believe he’s around here somewhere.”
she has no idea how he seems to know everything, but she finally tracks down shang who’s ecstatic to see her and hates himself for it. she confesses - says she loves him, that she’s engaged to ping but willing and able to break this engagement for shang. who is dumbfounded and elated and says yes, of course, finally and forever.
and mulan accepts her rank and marries shang, and they become the literal power battle couple of the general li mulan and general li shang. ping becomes a scholar and marries a very nice young woman who loves reading and is happy to read aloud to her husband with his failing eyes.
You know what that means!!! MORE READING MATERIAL!
As always, if you would like to see your wonderful writing featured on next weeks edition of Fanfic Friday, please tag me in you fic, hell add me to your tag lists (if you have room ;)) If I have not liked your fic within 48 hours, it means that I didn’t get the notification, or I’m super behind and for that I apologize. I try and include everyone, and I try to leave feedback on as many fics as I can!
Request: Hi, I had this request on my mind for a while but was kind of unsure about it so it’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it!! I was thinking something like the reader and Bucky are just friends and watching a movie and the reader is wearing a skirt and when she goes to put the movie in, Bucky sees she’s not wearing panties and smut from there? Like I said, it’s 100% ok if you don’t wanna do it, I just really love your work! - @rozasalavisa
Triggers: Smut, Bad movies
Word Count: 1300+
A/N: This took me like an hour and a half to write. Thank you for sending in the request, it was so much to write and made me laugh so much.
‘This is the most important part of your 21st Century education’ You and Bucky were the only ones left in the compound after everyone had gone on a mission. Apparently, it would have been too much for Buck and needed someone to stay with him. Steve was needed on the mission and Bucky requested you specifically.
So now you were picking out a movie from the highest shelf. In a normal position, your skirt reached a few inches below your ass but as you reached up the hem moved closer to your butt. Threatening to show him that you weren’t wearing any panties. What? It was comfortable.
‘What’s this called again?’ He called from the couch. He had sat down with a bowl of your favourite flavour of popcorn, two drinks and various other snacks to last you the night.
‘Twilight!’ you spun on your heels showing him the box set you forced Tony to buy. ‘10 hours of Teenage, angsty, vampire goodness’. You walked over to him, your bare core giving you a little more swing in your step than usual, and took a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl. Most of it had already gone but there was five more packets in the kitchen.
For @abloodneed, one of the most amazing, beautiful men alive. Thank you for always being you.
There were certain things that Magnus feared. The loss of a loved one—his mind flashed to quick strides, dark hair and hazel eyes—, the loss of a friend—his breath caught at the image of dark eyes, dark hair streaked with grey, twin horns, and skin grown cold—, and the loss of his children—the downworlders he’d taken underneath his wings. His fingers dug into the oak coffee table, scouring the wood as his mind supplied him with images of everyone of them that he’d lost. Drawing in breath was hard, like he was suffocating, a direct contradiction to the cool breeze wafting into the outdoor patio of the mundane bar he’d decided to visit. Sometimes, he just needed that time to himself, amongst the mundanes that entertained him with how they scurried about in their daily lives, unaware of the world that existed in the shadows.
He did just that at the moment, watching them go about their lives when suddenly, everything… froze. From the waiter who had been heading to his table, to the lovers celebrating their recent engagement. Even the late night dog walker and her dog were frozen in place, her with a hand halfway up her hair, and the dog with his tongue half pulled into his mouth. As he took in the the sight, everyone frozen as far as he could he could see, and as he heard those footsteps, calm and unhurried, that oozing mass of power that would cower a lesser man, have them scurrying away or bending their heads in submission, Magnus came face to face with his biggest fear.
“Drinking alone,” a voice he’d heard only once in his life and had hoped he would never hear again wafted out to him, moments before the owner of the voice slid into the seat across from him. White suit—expensive as expected, stretched over a tall lanky form. “Now that doesn’t suit you Magnus,” he drawled as he casually shrugged off the jacket, undid the diamond studded cufflinks so he could roll up his sleeves and show off his forearms. Long lean fingers reached up to run through hair that was kept in place by the crown of barbed wire on his head. He waved his hands and men—shapeshifting demons, Magnus was sure—who’d accompanied him all gave them a wide berth.
“And how would you know what suits or doesn’t suit me,” Magnus tossed back as he reached for his glass of bourbon. “You don’t know me.”
The man grinned, teeth sharp in the moonlight. “Now, now Magnus. Why would you say that? Is that how you speak to your father?”
Magnus raised a brow and took a sip of his bourbon, eyes hard as he stared back at Asmodeus.
So basically once a year Luke just disappeared and nobody knew why just that he was upset and he just disappeared and I was thinking Alex could have a dark day and Maggie gets worried. I'm always freaking out that I'm a burden to others when I'm upset and seeing that in Alex would be kind of cool... Sorry if this is too much
It’s not that Alex does it on purpose.
She doesn’t want to worry anyone. Doesn’t want to burden anyone.
That’s exactly the point.
It’s not that she does it on purpose, the disappearing. The vanishing.
She survived being on a fugitive with a three hundred year old Martian, and she’s not a trained DEO agent for nothing.
She’s good at disappearing. At vanishing.
Very good at it.
But not quite as good, apparently, as Maggie Sawyer is at finding.
Because when Alex does it this time – when they’ve had her father back for a few weeks and she’s just too overwhelmed, too overcome, too everything, too nothing, because she was his pride and joy and then he was dead and then he wasn’t and then she couldn’t save him but then she did and then he wasn’t the same but he was but he wasn’t, so she is overwhelmed and she is overcome and she is everything and she wants to be nothing – when Alex disappears this time, Maggie finds her.
It’s a sunny day – gorgeous – but Alex has all the shades pulled and she courts the darkness like just a few short weeks ago she was courting Maggie Sawyer, and she was courting death, courting danger, courting destruction, as she fought at Maggie’s side, at her sister’s side, to get her father back.
And now everything is fine, and she has no reason not to be fine.
But she’s not fine.
So she courts the slivers of darkness that she can find in the overwhelming sun, the sun with the audacity to shine, with the audacity to boast its brilliance without even doing Alex the courtesy of letting her evaporate.
Because if she is nothing but molecules – just for a little while, just while she rides this out – Maggie can’t tilt her head and squint slightly like she does when she’s worried, and Kara can’t insist on flying through her window, and Eliza can’t call her Alexandra and J’onn can’t stare at her when he thinks she’s not looking, fighting the temptation to read her mind so he can know exactly what’s wrong and James can’t bring her extra donuts on game night because he knows something’s off and Winn can’t gently touch her arm and remind her that he’s here, always, if she wants to talk about anything.
If she is nothing but molecules, even for a little while, they can’t worry. She can’t worry them. Burden them.
They all have enough going on, anyway.
But Maggie apparently disagrees.
She doesn’t kick down the door of the abandoned warehouse Alex breaks into when she needs to get away, when she needs to kick and scream and collapse on the floor and let herself get dusty, become dust, before her numbed out tears patter onto the cold, hard, unforgiving ground and trace patterns into the cobwebs and sawdust.
She doesn’t kick down the door, and she doesn’t ask what Alex is doing in there.
She’s already asked Winn, and she knows it has nothing to do with DEO business. She knows exactly what Alex is doing, because she knows… Alex.
“Danvers, just tell me one thing, just answer me the one question: are you physically hurt?“
She needs to know, because she knows how hard Alex can punch, and she knows how hard Alex can kick, and she knows how solid concrete is, and how tempting stone walls are when you want nothing to disappear, to be only your own burden.
Alex doesn’t answer for a long moment, because she’s on the ground and she’s shocked at the lack of judgment in Maggie’s voice.
Shocked at hearing Maggie’s voice on the other side of the door at all, because no one’s ever been able to find her before, on these dark days.
Shocked at the question. Not what are you doing in there or why aren’t you letting me in or what the hell is wrong with you.
“No,” she hears her own voice calling before she realizes she’s opened her mouth, before she realizes she’s dragging her body toward the door that Maggie must be crouching on the other side of.
“No, I’m not physically hurt.”
There. Not so bad. She’s used to calling out her condition after an explosion, a shooting, a cave-in. This doesn’t have to be so different.
“Okay. Do you want me to leave, Alex?” Maggie is calling, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough to not send Alex spiraling, and Alex presses her back against the door, and she takes comfort in imagining that, on the other side, Maggie has her hand pressed right where Alex would want it.
She wants to say yes, and she almost does. “I didn’t ask you to come, Maggie. I didn’t even tell you where I am.”
It comes out like an accusation, and she didn’t mean it to. Didn’t mean to sound so angry.
Maggie doesn’t seem to notice. Or rather, she doesn’t seem to mind. “I know you didn’t, Danvers. That’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you want me to leave.”
No. Please don’t leave. Please break down the door, please pick the lock, please break down my door, please pick the lock I chained around myself so long ago.
Yes. You deserve someone whole, you deserve someone full, you deserve someone strong.
No. God, god, god, please, no, don’t leave me, not now, not ever, because if I think I’m broken now, my god, I don’t want to imagine what I’d be if you ever left.
Yes. Your smile is starlight and your laughter is an antidote to my worst poisons and your hands are gentle and your hands are strong and your hands shake when they touch me and you don’t deserve this, you don’t need this, you deserve happiness, not… me.
None of the warring words in Alex’s mind, in Alex’s body, find their way out of her mouth.
She hears Maggie shift outside the door, and she nearly yells out, because she’s nearly convinced that Maggie is leaving.
But she’s not. She’s settling in, with her back against the door – her back against Alex’s, it sounds like – and she’s leaning her head back against it, too, and Alex hears it, feels it, so Alex does the same.
Silence stretches into minutes, into an hour, more.
“I’ve got you, Ally,” Maggie reminds her, just the once. “You are never, ever, ever a burden. And I’ve always, always, always got you.”
She’s so quiet before that, and after it, too, that for a while, Alex wonders if she’s hearing things, if the imposed darkness of the warehouse, of her mood, is clouding her brain.
But the part of her that still knows, even now, that Maggie Sawyer loves her – is even in love with her, maybe – knows that she’s not making anything up.
That Maggie’s got her.
And sure enough, when she’s ready – when she needs to eat and needs to pee and needs to shower and needs to fall into Maggie’s arms and let Maggie play with her hair and whisper sweet everythings in her ear until she falls asleep and wakes to Kara and Maggie making breakfast together and laughing softly so as not to wake her – Maggie’s there, and Maggie’s eyes are soft, and her arms are open, and the way she touches Alex, the way she holds her with her warm gaze, makes Alex think that maybe, just maybe, she’s not a burden at all.
Maybe, just maybe, she’s worthy of being cared for.
Next to her, Killian mumbles incoherently, shifting his arm to rest more comfortably. He’s barely awake, his face still in his pillow, but Emma has been up for nearly an hour, and this freaking dinner party is going to drive her insane.
“Did you pick up that bottle of scotch for my dad? I finished the one we had last night, and–”
Killian is apparently awake enough to kiss her, his lips firm against hers as he slides across the mattress to settle between her thighs. He’s warm, his skin radiating heat from sleep, and when he pulls back enough to blink blearily at her, it’s with a soft smile. “Relax, darling. I’ve got it all sorted as you asked.”
“But everyone is coming over tonight, and–”
“And if we served them moldy bread and rotten fish, they wouldn’t even notice.”
His accent is thicker when he’s still half-asleep, or maybe it’s the underlying emotion as he reaches for her hand, the newly-placed ring shining in the early morning light. He rubs his thumb against the metal, and their eyes catch, and it hits her all over again.
They’re engaged. Emma Swan, the sad little lost girl with no home is going to marry the love of her life – the true love of her life.
But first they have to tell everyone, and she doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. Her father likes Killian. Her mother will be thrilled. Regina will say something snarky, and then probably get her some extravagant gift she doesn’t need. And Henry…well, Henry probably had something to do with the proposal in the first place since he rather conveniently stayed at a friend’s house last night.
“We’re not serving moldy anything, love.” Killian is looking at her with a faint amount of concern when she glances up, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. “Roast chicken, with–”
It’s Emma’s turn to shut him up with a kiss, a needy thing that has her gripping his shoulders to pull him closer. Who is she kidding? Killian has had this all planned. The dinner party was arranged a week ago – wouldn’t it be nice to have everyone over for Sunday dinner now that I’ve properly moved in and we’ve a moment’s peace? – and there he was last night, asking her to marry him.
He probably knew she’d never be able to keep it a secret, and if she’s honest, Emma likes that he was so sure of her answer that he already made a plan to tell everyone before he’d even asked the question.
Which is why she decides that worrying about the menu is probably not the best use of her time when they’ve got the house to themselves, and Killian’s bare skin is on hers. He must be of a similar mind, his hips grinding against hers as the kiss deepens as his fingers dance along her waist and up over her ribs.
It’s a pleasant way to pass the morning, and in the end, it turns out the Emma really shouldn’t have worried about anything. The moment her parents walk through the door, Mary Margaret zeros in on her left hand, nudging David before he’s even started to take off his coat.
Dude this one was so fun to write. Hopefully everyone likes reading it as much as I liked writing it! I honestly wouldn’t be opposed to making this into a series, but I don’t know how realistic that would be. (Also AYEEE ROSIE FIGURED OUT HOW TO ADD GIFS)
Request: can you write something where cal is a nerd, and you’re kinda popular?? lots fluff and just have fun with it !! // Anon! Thanks so much for this one. I hope you love it :)
Title: Long Way Home
Summary: Calum’s been crushing on you for as long as he can remember, but your differences in social status have proven to be a bit of a roadblock. However, things start to change when you approach Calum with a simple proposition.
Words: 2k (WOW this got away from me)
Warnings: None? Maybe a tiny bit of language?
You looked great today. Your hair was impeccable, your outfit was put together perfectly, and as you laughed with your friends across the courtyard, Calum couldn’t help but stare. It sucked, honestly.
He’d been practically in love with you ever since you moved into his neighborhood when you guys were ten. You two were best friends for a while, until middle school, anyway. The problem that presented itself at that point was the fact that you were the cool new girl from another country, causing your popularity to skyrocket. And unfortunately, Calum and his friends were a bit lower on the social pyramid, making any chance of a relationship with you almost unattainable.
“Huh?” Calum turned to face Michael, blinking out of his reverie. “I mean, uh. Right. Yeah, I agree.”
Michael grinned. “You agree that Mr. Peters is a total babe?”
Michael, Luke, and Ashton all burst out laughing, causing Calum’s face and neck to heat up.
“Pay attention to the conversation next time,” said Ashton around his laughter, “instead of staring at Y/N all day like a creeper.”
“Shut up,” Calum muttered. “What were you asking, anyway?”
“We were asking when you were planning on actually talking to Y/N,” said Luke, and Calum elbowed him.
“No, in reality we were just asking if we were on for rehearsal tonight,” Ashton explained. “I asked if we were still all set to have it at your house.”
“Oh, yeah,” Calum nodded. “Sure.”
Suddenly Ashton and Michael, who were seated across from Calum and Luke, went quiet, focusing on something behind them. Calum frowned at his friends. “What—”
Michael suddenly began coughing and Ashton smiled at whatever it was behind Calum. “Hey, Y/N!”
Calum’s eyes widened and Michael waggled his eyebrows.
“Hey, Ashton,” came the sound of your voice, and Calum almost groaned in annoyance. Just the sound of your voice gave him butterflies.
“How’s your day been?” Michael asked casually, and you stood at the end of the table so that you could see all of them, pressing your palms to the surface and leaning forward slightly.
“Pretty good, thanks, yours?”
Michael replied with a “Good, thanks,” before you turned to Calum.
“Do you wanna walk home today?”
Calum tried to contain his surprise, simultaneously trying to force a blush from creeping up onto his face. “I… what?” He turned around to glance at your friends, to see if they were staring over here and it was all some sort of prank, but they were all laughing or doing homework as if nothing was off.
You laughed, and once again, Calum’s heart lurched. “Yeah, um, I finished all of my homework and I don’t have soccer today so I figured I’d just head home. I was wondering if you wanted to walk together since we’re neighbors and all.”
“Y-yeah,” Calum stuttered, then cleared his throat. He could feel his friends’ gazes on the two of them, like vultures. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. When were you planning on leaving?”
“Oh, whenever works for you!” you said with another dazzling smile. “I’m up for whenever, but I don’t want to rush you or anything.”
“Actually, we were just finishing up,” Luke chimed in, closing his textbook. The other guys followed his action, packing up their things and clearing the table. Calum wanted to strangle each and every one of them right the and there.
“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll go grab my stuff. Meet you at the main entrance, Cal?”
The use of your nickname for him almost made Calum visibly freak out. He was already pretty sure you could hear his heart beating from where you stood.
“Yeah, sounds good,” he said as calmly as possible, and with that, you nodded, flashing another smile and saying goodbye to the other guys, and turned to head back to your table.
Calum watched your retreating figure before turning back to his friends.
“Guys, what the fuck.”
“What?” asked Michael innocently.
“‘Just finishing up?’” Calum mocked.
“We were helping you out!” protested Ashton.
“Yeah, you’ve been in love with Y/N for how long now?” Luke added.
“You guys suck,” Calum groaned, packing his own things. “You legitimately suck balls.”
“Only on Tuesdays,” Michael retorted. Calum flipped him off.
“I’ll see you guys later, or something,” he said, heading toward the courtyard exit.
“No detours, Cal-Pal!” Ashton called and Calum shook his head, ignoring his friends and heading toward the school’s entrance to meet you. It was a short walk, so he found you almost immediately. Unfortunately, you were talking with a few of your friends, who were also pretty popular. In all honesty, Calum almost marched straight back into the courtyard because he was afraid he would embarrass you in front of your friends if he tried to talk to you. For all he knew, you were talking to them about how you had to walk home with him and how annoyed you were!
Then Calum’s logic told him that no, you had asked him to walk home together, and you actually weren’t a bitch like some of your friends. So, Calum came to a brilliant solution to his dilemma: ignorance.
Shouldering his backpack and taking a deep breath, he started walking toward the doors, walking straight past you and the people you were talking to. He figured he could act as if he didn’t see you, instead heading outside to wait. And sure enough, almost immediately after he stepped outside into the October air, he heard you call out.
He turned around to see you rushing in his direction, finally slowing down when you reached him. “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said, and you shrugged.
“No worries. I was talking to a few friends so I got caught up, sorry.”
“No worries,” Calum repeated, and you looked up at him with a smile that made his heart flutter.
“So,” you said, “shall we go?”
“We shall,” Calum replied, causing you to giggle, and suddenly he felt bit more confident. This wasn’t so bad. The two of you began walking, and a comfortable silence settled until you broke it.
“Hey, why don’t you play soccer?” you asked randomly, and Calum shrugged.
“You mean football?” he teased, and you rolled your eye, smiling nonetheless. “Dunno,” he continued. “Not my thing, I guess.”
“Um, I cry bullshit,” you replied, and Calum’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to look at you.
“I’ve seen you play, Calum. You’d fit in really well with varsity, trust me. Plus, you were always great when we played as kids.”
“I just didn’t want to, I guess,” he insisted. He didn’t want to admit that he was too shy to try out, considering the boys’ football team was full of pigheaded morons who already probably hated his guts.
You only shook your head, shrugging. “Your choice, I guess. I really shouldn’t be criticizing you for a choice you made.”
Another silence settled, and Calum took the time to look around. A lot of cars were on the street, full of people coming home from day jobs.
“Um, thank you,” you suddenly said. “For walking with me, I mean. I don’t usually walk and you were in the courtyard too, so I just wanted to ask. For old times’ sake, you know?”
Calum smiled at that one. That was one of the reasons he liked you so much; you didn’t care about popularity. You didn’t try to forget or ignore the fact that you two were best friends several years ago. Calum was grateful for that.
“I get it,” Calum said.
“I do wish we talked a bit more,” you continued, and Calum found himself in shock yet again. You wanted to talk to him?
“Me too,” he said honestly. “You friends kinda hate me though, I think.”
“What! No way,” you protested. “They just… they don’t know you, that’s all. You aren’t close with them.”
“It’s alright,” said Calum with a shrug. “I know I’m kind of a dork. I’ve got my friends though, so I’m happy.”
You smiled at that, and it made Calum’s knees weak. “That’s a good way to look at things.”
The two of you continued to walk and talk with one another, and Calum genuinely enjoyed your company. It wasn’t awkward like he thought it would be, and you weren’t patronizing him like he had dreaded you would.
He realized with a start that you guys had almost reached your neighborhood, so he turned left as opposed to right, opting to take the long way instead. Hey, he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. He wasn’t sure when this would ever happen again.
At that point, the sun was getting lower in the sky. As you pointed out a couple of birds, smiling and laughing as you did so, Calum noticed that you were literally glowing in the fading sunlight. The orange light outlined you like some ethereal halo, illuminating your features and giving your eyes an even more vibrant look than usual. His breath hitched a bit as he marveled at how beautiful you were, but when you turned back to face him, he acted as nonchalant as he could.
Shit, he was so screwed.
Eventually you had reached the neighborhood where you lived, and Calum was both sad and relieved. Sad because his time with you was ending, but relieved for the same reason. He didn’t want to fall for you even more when you were so untouchable and, quite frankly, out of his league. Like, way out of his league.
“Thanks so much, Cal,” you said when you reached the foot of your driveway. “I had a really good time.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said with a smile, a genuine smile. He was ecstatic to hear that you actually enjoyed the time you spent together.
“We should do this again sometime,” you suggested, and Calum had to physically stop himself from jumping for joy.
“Totally,” he agreed. “It was fun.”
“I’ll let you know when the soc-football season ends,” you told him, smiling as you corrected yourself. “We’ll make more of a habit out of this. For old times’ sake, right?”
“I like that idea,” Calum said honestly, and you nodded.
“Well, I’m gonna head inside. Thanks again, Calum, really,” you said, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing a bit before smiling and turning to walk up to your house.
Calum ran a hand down his face, letting it linger over his mouth and jaw. Holy shit, he thought as he watched you enter your house. His hand then found its way into his hair, disheveling the dark curls. Holy shit.
He slowly turned to walk back to his own house, almost directly across the street. He couldn’t wait to shove in his friends’ faces the fact that things went so exceptionally well.
Unbeknownst to Calum, you had made your way up to your bedroom. You watched from the window as your neighbor headed home, and you couldn’t help but smile widely, heart still beating rapidly. So okay, maybe you did have practice today, but the coach loved you and you figured you could just tell her you didn’t feel too well.
And fine, maybe you were kinda, sorta, maybe crushing on Calum.
Would you be willing to write some snuggling? Not a terribly exciting prompt, I'm sorry, but I could really use some casual intimacy.
casual intimacy is pretty much the best
it was a funny thing, when afternoon started to settle in and weigh on your eyelids, that golden orange light all lazy as it streamed through the windows, catching pieces of dust. suddenly the will to work was lost and it was like a spell had fallen over the room, the two of them ebbing from work flow to something closer to work dribble, fingers gone still and magnus forgetting about all of the lists and contracts he was working on instead to watch the way alec’s head was lolling back against the back of his chair.
the sunlight lit up the edges of his deflect rune and magnus watched the slow dip of his eyelids, honey colored light making the whole room hazy. he knew it was bound to happen, and it did.
it was a slow shuffle, hands on forearms and bodies pressed together. quiet murmurs that sounded more like yes, please and less like a possibility. it was half stumbling to the couch, the pretense something like do you want some tea? but tea never happened. instead before they knew it they were settled on the couch, side to side, legs sliding and tangling and alec’s nose bumping up against magnus’s cheek.
and it was a beautiful thing, wasn’t it, to hear alec hum as magnus settled his hands on either side of his spine. it was beautiful to feel his arms wrap around him, pressing him closer. it was so good to hold each other, as close as they could get as the afternoon light dripped over them all warm and sleepy. magnus closed his eyes, encased in the warmth of their breathing.
Sometimes I wonder how badly that telepathic link with the White Martian must have messed with Alex's mind. Do you think she gets nightmares about attacking and taunting Kara now?
Ofc she does.
She remembers everything she said.
She remembers every one of Kara’s reactions, every nuance of
her fear, every detail of her pain.
And it wasn’t her hand, but she still remembers slamming it
into Kara’s skin.
She’s punched her sister before.
In DEO training. That time when she was 17 and they both got
a little carried away with Mario Kart (it was an accident).
She’s punched her sister before, and she’s knocked her down.
She’s taken the wind out of Supergirl, and she’s made Kara cry.
She’s strong. Very.
But she’s not as strong as the white Martian whose flesh
wasn’t hers but was, whose memories weren’t hers but were.
And in these memories, she feels how fragile Kara is, how
breakable Supergirl is.
All because of the snarl that’s not her snarl, the unearthly
strength that’s not her strength.
The agony of knowing what she was doing – and because she
wasn’t doing it, she was laying inert, weak, destroyed, shattered – the agony
of not being able to stop it.
And it replays every night.
Every night, she watches the insecurity flicker behind Kara’s
eyes when the white Martian had called her whiney, had told her it was
exhausting to pretend to care about her feelings.
Because it wasn’t Alex – it wasn’t even Alex’s body – but she
remembers it like it was, and she knows Kara saw her, heard her, touched her,
like she was.
She’d done it to her again.
Tried to kill her, forced her to fight back.
Under Myriad, and now this. This wasn’t the same. And she’d
snapped out of Myriad.
She knows this. She knows it.
But knowing it doesn’t stop the nightmares.
She wakes up sweating and she wakes up screaming, and Maggie
holds her with one arm, soothes her with soft lips and even softer words, and
she angles her body, both of their bodies, so she can reach her phone, so she
can type out a one-handed text to Kara.
And Kara is always there, within minutes.
The first couple of times, neither of them are wearing
shirts, and the gravity of Alex’s nightmares is temporarily replaced with the
awkward hilarity of the situation.
But Alex starts sleeping in a shirt, because she surrenders
to the knowledge that these nightmares aren’t going anywhere any time soon, and
Maggie follows suit.
Every time, Maggie will transfer Alex from her own strong
arms into Kara’s, and Kara will kiss her forehead and her hair and soothe her
heavy, gasping, apologetic breathing, coo that she has nothing to apologize
for, that it wasn’t her, it wasn’t her, it wasn’t her.
Every time, Maggie will stop in the doorway and watch the
Danvers girls for a long, sad moment; sad because Alex is in pain, because the strain
of it is eating away at her, at Kara; but grateful, too, because they have each
other through it. They’re closer through it.
Every time, Maggie pads into the kitchen to make them all
hot chocolate, and she lingers until Alex’s sniffles slow and, eventually,
Every time, they sip in silence, and every time, once their
drinks are finished, Alex settles deep into the blankets between her sister and
her lover, and Maggie mouths thank you to Kara over Alex’s exhausted head, and
Kara mouths exactly the same.
After nearly a week of this, Maggie asks Kara to just spend
the entire night sleeping over, and Kara smiles, and her heart breaks in the
best of ways, because she’d wanted to from night one but had been scared to
impose on Alex’s private time with her girlfriend.
So it becomes a routine: Maggie cooks four times the amount
of dinner she normally does, because Kara is Kara, and she and Kara stay awake
long after Alex drifts off in their arms, to make sure, to make sure, to make
And eventually, the nightmares stop, but the habit doesn’t,
because still, long after Alex has forgiven herself for something she never
did, there are nights that Kara just sleeps over with her sister and her sister’s
girlfriend, because if they’re being honest, they all sleep better the closer
they are to each other.