#lune’s tiny fic

[sommerregenjuniluft]

the jirgin chronicals — aka tumblr user sommerregenjuniluft’s take on how it all started

for @veryinnovative & @messymoony

cw: making out, dirty talk, erections (1296 words)

Their lips part with a wet noise when they’re startled by the banging on the door, Evan’s voice droning through the wood, “Seven minutes are up, lovebirds.”

Regulus tuts, sneering over his shoulder at the interrupting, lips kiss bitten and face flushed and it makes James go even weaker in the knees paired with that annoyed look on his face.

The whimper winds itself out of his throat on its own volition and James feels Regulus smile into the next kiss. A mere five minutes ago he’d started praising James about making such pretty noises and James has been hard in his jeans ever since.

More knocking and James eases Regulus back by the jaw gently, chuckling breathlessly, “I think they want us to rejoin the party.”

Regulus clenches his fingers in James’ hair, displeased, and James’ knees attempt to buckle, “Wanna get rid of me so soon, Potter? What, am I not up to your standards?”

“No,” James’ voice cracks in his rush to reply. “No no, been wanting this forever,” he murmurs heatedly before reeling Regulus back in.

But Regulus only indulges him for a moment, tongues tangling, but apparently not done with his arguments yet, “Wouldn’t want to deprive the crowd of their star then, huh?”

And he’s pouting now, face twisted into a frown, never missing an opportunity to remind James that he’s after all their uni’s popular star athlete, that there’s miles of differences between the two of them.

Now it’s James’ turn to tut. “Regulus,” his tone stern, “I meant what I said. I really want this and you make me nervous, ok? I don’t want to rush things because it’s important to me. You are important to me.”

The younger man blinks up at James with eyes wide as saucers, expression slack, before he blinks violently, “Shut up.” He’s back on James before he’s even done speaking, gasping into his open mouth and groaning happily when their midriffs press together more tightly as James belts his arm around Regulus’ back.

After a while Regulus pulls back, smirking and wiping at the spit caught in the corner of James’ mouth. Christ.

“Is that why you acted like a fool last weekend when I came to that bonfire with Barty?”

“He cheated at that arm wrestling competition, right in front of you! And also—”

“Okay, James,” Regulus interrupts him, immediately shutting him up by the use of his first name. The look he blinks up at James through his lashes is equal parts careful curiosity and unbridled desire and James’ heart beats faster on the receiving end of it. Regulus clears his throat, “Ready to go?”

James quickly scans his own body, shuffling his feet to righten himself in his briefs.

“Oh?,” Regulus makes and James does decidedly not appreciate the drop of his voice when he’d just gotten his predicament back under control, “That how nervous I make you, hm?”

“Reg, love,” James admonishes, voice strained, letting his head loll back. “I thought you wanted to head back?”

Regulus hums, “It’s just so easy to rile you up—it’s kind of doing things to me.”

James immediately swells in his briefs again. Someone bangs at the door again. He groans, “You know I can’t go like this.”

“Guess you’ll have to conceal your lap with something,” Regulus purrs, turning the lock.

Before he can make it far, James snatches him around the hips with a little growl, pressing Regulus’ ass in front of his crotch to cover the visible bulge as they walk awkwardly over the threshold. James doesn’t have to see Regulus’ face to know he’s preening.

They plop down on James’ previous seat on the couch, Regulus dutifully propping his long legs into James’ lap. There’s a bit of heckling and needling at them staying in the closet for longer than necessary but it dies down quickly when the game continues.

Shots get handed out, Barty has to perform a card trick on Emmeline—which he fumbles, much to James’ delight—Dorcas gets her ass grabbed by three different people blindly which she then has to associate to their respective culprits, Lily performs a heated lap dance to some girl James thinks is named Amelia and then they’re back at Regulus.

“Careful, Meadowes,” he warns.

Dorcas hums innocently, giggling tipsily into Evan’s shoulder, and then, “I dare you to talk dirty to James for the remainder of the round. And convincingly! I know you have it in you, Regs.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, sighing like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world but James notices the barely there uptick in the corner of his mouth. The younger man scoots closer, stuffs a pillow under his bottom so that he can comfortably wrap one arm around James’ neck and pull him close.

“Hi there again,” he says, grinning warmly up at Regulus. His head thumps pleasantly into the back of the couch and James thinks there’s some kind of witchcraft in the way that Regulus looks impossibly handsome from that angle too, smiling down at James.

“Hi, James,” he purrs quietly and uh-oh.

Uh-oh, because Regulus hasn’t even started yet and James is already squirming.

James winces, “You won’t go too hard on me, will you?”

Regulus’ grin turns razor edge sharp, “No, but you might.”

Oh god.

The next minutes are absolute torture for James. Regulus is murmuring about how easy he is, taunting him about the erection in his jeans right under Regulus’ thigh, telling him how thick and warm he feels, admitting how Regulus catches himself wondering about how it’ll feel elsewhere. You’re big, James, aren’t you? I can feel it—makes me want to have you all the way on the back of my tongue. 

James nearly leaps out of his seat at the last comment, gripping at Regulus’ leg over his knee tightly, fingers clenching and unclenching, a strained smile on his face.

“Oh, baby,” Regulus coos and James has to swallow a whimper, “So responsive for me. You’d bend right over if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

Deep breath in, hold one…two…three…four, deep breath out. James’ sole focus is the spot on the wallpaper across from him.

Regulus hums calculatingly and then he starts carding nimble fingers through the mess of James’ dark hair, making him shudder through a shiver. “Look at me.”

Deep breath in—

Something wet, hot touching the lobe of his ear, suckling gently and James wheezes sharply.

“C’mon, James, don’t be difficult,” Regulus whispers heatedly.

With a gulp, James turns his head. He’s sweating, he realizes. Palm clammy where he’s absently kneading Regulus’ thigh as well as fisting the cushions.

Regulus is staring back at him from under lidded eyes and James manages a wobbly smile.

“Are you going to tap out?” Regulus rasps. His other hand is now fiddling with the thin golden chain around his neck. Paired with the slight recurring tug at the roots of his hair, it’s horribly distracting.

“What?” James blurts. His mind is nothing but soft static. Nothing matters but the warm weight of Regulus on top of him. 

Regulus coos again and, much to James embarrassment, it goes right to his cock once more, “Poor, pitiful, pathetic man.”

James has to trap a strangled noise behind his teeth, “Reg, I’m– my head’s getting dizzy.”

A thumb at James’ bottom lip, “Overwhelmed, are we?”

He grunts in response, managing to nod once.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Regulus asks, putting more pressure behind the digit, letting the tip slip right in.

“Wanna kiss you,” James mumbles deliriously around his thumb.

“Not here,” Regulus reprimands softly.

Regulus makes up some bullshit excuse to see James’ room and James blinks dumbly and concentrates on not letting his knees buckle when they start making their way upstairs.

[attickit]

Randomly I think about that one event I decided to join.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Do you have any recommendations for angst fics or writers please 🙏

oh boy do i have a list for you! these are all off the top of my head but there are plenty more! hope you enjoy!

from @girlgenius1111

adrenaline junkie [series can be found on her masterlist in the platonic tab! i think there's four parts and this is one of my absolute favs]

i'll make it through the winter if it kills me [same place, two parts!]

all that i did to try to undo it [again, same place. solstråle, i would die for you]

from @woso-dreamzzz

Injured [in the masterlist under platonic fics with Alexia, y'all know i had to include Bambi in here! there's ten parts so far! i would also die for Bambi's happiness.]

Heart [this one just makes me feel all warm inside, it's in the same place as above!]

from @wileys-russo

childhood sweethearts [now, i am not an alessia girl but this one? perfection.]

from @codiemarin

Such Small Hands [just a teeny tiny rollercoaster ride that gets the heart tugging!]

from @samkerrworshipper

the view between villages [wow is all i have to say with this one.]

narcotics [this one is a top 10 favs for me.]

cause i am shameless, these are by me! i'm not the best at angst but i tried lmao.

If I have to ask, I don't want it [poem based, love using them to give me inspiration!]

all the rain in the world [another one based on a poem!]

Claire De Lune [based on a song by an artist my sister hates but i think i've listen to about 1000 times on spotify]

[fyodorloveclub]

au calme clair de lune triste et beau

pairing: paul verlaine x reader

cw: vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fem pet names, creampie, french people

notes: first verlaine fic yay! its very fluffy and sweet bc i needed verlaine to cosplay being a nice person ♡ huge thank you to @amythedemisimp for helping me with the tiny bit of french so i didnt look like a complete idiot ♡♡ much love

wc: 2k

“Mmm, good morning, darling,” Verlaine mumbled into your hair as he felt you stir next to him. 

You barely heard him, brain still foggy from only just opening your eyes, but smiled as he wrapped his long arms tighter around your waist. He snaked his hands under the baggy t-shirt you were wearing to press his warm hands against your skin, making you giggle. You intertwined your fingers with his that were resting on your stomach pulling him even closer to you. Nothing ever made you feel safer and more at peace than when you were wrapped in Verlaine’s arms, especially on lazy mornings like this. 

It was the weekend, and you had no idea what time it was, could only see the growing sunlight filtering in through the curtains of the large bay window, and the snores of your cat still curled up in his bed in the corner of the room. The thick comforter draped over you was all tangled up around the two of you as a remnant of Verlaine’s slightly violent sleeping habits, and you laughed quietly to yourself as you remember being woken up at least twice by clumsy flopping and kicking and the incoherent conversations he had with himself in his sleep. 

“What are you laughing about?” he asked, voice deep and scratchy. Though he sounds accusatory, you could feel his toothy smile against the back of your neck as he snuggled closer to you.

“Oh, nothing,” you teased. “Just the 30 minute long argument you seemed to be having with Chuuya in your sleep last night. Brotherly love at its finest.”

“Oh, really? What were we fighting about?”

“I'm not really sure, I think he was asking for your approval to propose to Dazai, and you were so not on board.” Verlaine chuckled. “There were plenty of slurred exclamations of ‘Chuuya, you idiot!’ and intense groaning.” 

“Definitely sounds like how that would go down.” 

You felt the deep, comforting grumble of his chest as he laughed, and thought about how much you wished you could freeze this moment and live in it forever. The warmth radiating from his skin and the way his body melded perfectly against yours, all in the hushed quiet of a morning with no alarms or schedules to meet. 

Verlaine tugged on your waist a bit as a signal to look at him, and you flopped over on your side to gaze dreamily into his silvery-blue eyes. 

“Hi, pretty,” he whispered, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. You blushed and smiled back, somehow still flustered at his flirting after all this time. 

He rested a hand on your bare hip as he slowly leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, and you sighed contentedly into it. You reached up to gently run your hands through his silky, long blonde hair that you only ever got to see down at night. It started out as a gentle kiss, but your involuntary groans as his familiar lips moved against yours encouraged Verlaine, dipping his tongue into your mouth. He looked at you sideways when you groaned again but pulled back, wrinkling your nose. 

“I love you, but your morning breath tastes pretty bad,” you giggled, making him roll his eyes.

“Guess I’ll have to kiss somewhere else, then,” he said with a tone of feigned defeat. 

Before your still-foggy head could process what he said, Verlaine was all of a sudden flipping you onto your back and snaking between your legs, spreading them and kissing at the soft skin of your inner thighs. All you did was smile and let your head fall back against the pillow.

“No protest?” he asked, words muffled.

“None at all.”

Verlaine happily went back to working on your thighs, biting softly as he worked his way upward. Once he got where he wanted to be he made eye contact with you before slowly shimmying your panties down your  legs, leaving you naked from the waist down. Placing your legs over his shoulders for better access, you moaned in anticipation of what was to come. 

Now he was pressing light kisses to your outer lips, running his tongue up and down your slit. He used two fingers to spread you open, staring mesmerized for just a moment at your quickly moistening pussy. Just the sight of Verlaine buried in between your legs, mouth on you alone was enough to get you dripping. His arms wrapped around your thighs, hands coming to rest on your pelvis before leaning further in, using his tongue to gather up some of the slick that had already begun trickling out of you. You could feel the mmmmm he grumbled against your pussy as he tasted you. 

Finally, he dipped his tongue inside you, pulling a deep moan from your throat as he flicked his tongue expertly against your clit, his hot mouth feeling heavenly against your already pulsing pussy. 

“Oh, god, Paul,” you whined.

He smiled before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking as he continued to circle his tongue around it, reminding you that he knew your body better than anyone else. Verlaine knew exactly how to touch you and push your buttons to have you melting in his hands, and he happily put this knowledge to good use.

He soon dipped his head lower to lap up more of your juices, while dragging his tongue through your folds. Verlaine tapped your thigh to get you to look him in the eyes before he slid his tongue into your hole, pleased with the gasps and moans tumbling out of your mouth. He would’ve smirked if his mouth weren’t full of your pussy. Then it’s Verlaine who’s gasping as your hands found their way into his hair and tug, fingernails scratching at his scalp. Desperate to ride his tongue, he had to hold down your hips as you involuntarily thrusted into his mouth.

Unwrapping one of his arms from your legs so he could palm himself through his boxers, Verlaine shivered at the friction against his growing erection. His tongue pumped in, out, and around your hole as he pulled his cock out and circled his fist around it.

“P-Paul,” you gasped. He looked up at you, eyes dark and sultry and face covered in saliva and slick. “Make love to me, please.”

Verlaine lifted his mouth off of you before nodding wordlessly, crawling from between your legs to hover over you. All of your labored breaths were swallowed as he once again pressed his lips against yours, melding your mouths together.

“You like tasting yourself?”  he asked. All you did was kiss him back hungrily.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue and drool as your hands clumsily snaked down his body to tug at the waistband of his boxers, signaling him to pull away so he could undress. You were both fully naked now, your old sleep shirt having been thrown off a while ago, and you relished in the intimacy of the moment. The intimacy of knowing exactly how to make your lover feel good and doing exactly that, of showing love unabashedly, fully exposed and on display for each other. You trusted Verlaine with your entire being.

Not many words were needed as you could read each other’s minds and bodies better than your favorite books, and it felt only natural as he positioned the two of you, pestering you regularly over if you were comfortable or not.

Verlaine peppered sweet kisses all over your face as he hovered over you, and you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Ready, ma chérie?” he asked in his typical sultry, sexy voice. You bit your lip and smiled in response.

He leaned back so he run his cock through your folds to gather some slick, making you cry out as the tip nudged your swollen clit. Then he was lining himself up with your hole before slowly pushing in. Your breath hitched as you struggled to stretch around his thick length, eyes screwed shut.

“Doing so, so good for me, beautiful,” Verlaine whispered as encouragement, each word punctuated with a chaste kiss to your lips, cheeks, or forehead.

Your legs came to wrap tightly around his thin waist as he bottomed out, and you couldn’t help the cries you let out. He stayed still for a moment, balls resting heavily against your ass, as you adjusted your hips to try and encourage the tight ring of muscle to relax. Verlaine was always so patient with you, so sweet and accommodating, and it made your heart swell.

Once you gave him a silent nod and smile of approval, he hiked your legs further up his waist before slowly pulling back out, eyes focused on you and your expression the whole time. Pulling all the way out so only the tip was still inside, he thrusted back into you with a little more speed, prompting a high-pitched moan from you. The feeling of being completely filled by your lover was so comforting yet so intoxicating, and you clenched hard around his length.

“More!” you groaned.

“Of course.”

Verlaine’s lips attached to your neck and sucked at the sensitive skin underneath your jaw as he slowly began to build up a rhythm, the wet friction of his thrusts sending pleasure coursing through your veins with every movement.

He held your body close to his as he fucked you and cherished the moment. All of his senses were on fire: the sounds and smells of sex and sweat, the lingering taste of your pussy, and the sight of you clinging onto him as you cried out his name.

“Ma p’tite minette,” he whispered into your ear, French accent thick. “Je t'aime.”

My little kitten. You whined at the words, returning a garbled je t’aime back to him while he pumped his cock in and out of you.

You could tell Verlaine was getting close to cumming as you felt his cock throb inside you, and your suspicions were confirmed as his pace increased.

“Inside, please,” you groaned, and he knew exactly what you meant.

His hand slithered between your bodies and used his slim fingers to rub circles over your throbbing, neglected clit. You immediately cried out at the touch, hips bucking wildly into the touch as your senses were overwhelmed. It didn’t take long for you to cum, whines, screams, and cries of his name all falling past your lips as your orgasm spread from your core to your fingers and toes.

The cream that had gathered on his cock amplified the dirty squelching noises in the room, and Verlaine was grunting and fucking into you hard as he chased his own high. You tensed the walls of your pussy tight around his cock to encourage him, and soon he was moaning as he spilled his hot cum inside you, eyes screwed shut as he was overtaken by his own orgasm.

Verlaine pulled out of you slowly, falling down next to you on the bed as you both attempted to catch your breath. Upset at the distance, you flopped back over, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. He chuckled as he caught you, holding you close while he ran his fingertips softly up and down your back.

The light shining through the window was brighter now, and you could hear birds chirping from outside. Everything was still, everything was peaceful, and you felt safe being held tight by your lover.

[ali-annals]

Unexpected Visitors

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: G | WC: 800 | CW: - | A/N: This is one of my first fics so I'm not super proud of it but the lovely peeps on ao3 seem to like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I thought I'd cross-posted this already but apparently I haven't, oops :| | Ao3 |

An unknown woman shows up on Wayne Manor's doorstep asking for Damian Wayne…

And enjoy this lovely fanart made by @tinybrie 🥰

A bright light flashed through the windows of the manor, the echo of thunder sounding overhead almost immediately. The knocking on the wooden door echoed down the dimly lit hallway, almost covered by the sound of rain and wind gusting outside.

The family butler swung open the door, taking in the visitors.

A young woman was standing there, holding a baby. She had her mother’s dark hair, but her eyes... 

He tore his gaze away from the baby when the pale, tired woman asked, “Is Damian Wayne here?”

“I’m afraid he is not ‘in’ at the moment, Miss. May I say who called?”

“He’s alive?”

The butler blinked, hearing the note of relief underneath the urgency in her voice. “Yes, Miss..?”

“Oh, thank goodness! His tracker stopped working and I was…I thought…can I see him, please? I can help heal him.”

“How did you know he was injured, Miss?”

She stepped further inside, brushing raindrops off the baby’s and her clothing. “Tracker. If it stops working and he doesn't reply, he’s either dead or severely injured. And since you say he’s alive-”

Alfred still didn’t know her name, but he knew she was trustworthy. Call it an old man’s intuition, call it experience from sizing up every type of person under this roof (of which there were many), he could tell his youngest Master would be safe with her. 

“I’ll show you to his room, Miss.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

~~~

Damian groggily opened his eyes. Owww… His muscles protested after all that had happened in the last short while. 

The faint sound of rain hitting the window by his bed provided soothing white noise, mixed with the soft breaths from the dark head resting on the bed by his hand. 

Marinette was fast asleep, like the baby in her arms.

He stroked her hair gently. “ Habibti , I’m awake.”

She jolted upright, carefully cradling the baby so as not to disturb her rest. “Ma lune? You’re okay?”

“Just fine, mon coeur . I take it you healed me?” He scooched into a half-sitting position.

She nodded. “I thought…Your tracker stopped, so I came to see…”

“Shh, it’s alright, habibti .” Damian cupped her face in his hand. “It broke when I was fighting. I would have immediately contacted you but they forced me to stay and heal, and drugged me so I would sleep and recover without protest.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” She leaned over to kiss him. “I brought Zara.”

After Marinette had reassured herself that he was well-healed thanks to her handiwork, he brought up the question niggling at the back of his mind.

“How many people know?”

“Alfred, and whoever’s watching your monitors right now.”

“You’re okay with them knowing, now?”

Marinette nodded. “I’d prefer to be close by if anything like this happens again. So what if Bruce doesn’t like magic users or the fact that we hid this from him? He can get over it or not, but I will be by your side,” she stated firmly.

He smiled softly at her, seeing the feisty woman he fell in love with. “Let’s go settle their disturbed brains, then, shall we?”

He removed all the health monitors and stood, stretching and enjoying the slight discomfort.

She handed Zara to him, whom he carefully cradled in his arm and stroked his finger over her tiny cheek, and then they headed down to the dining room, where the rest of his extended family were gathered for a celebratory meal. 

The entire Bat clan was there, in various stages of recovery from an assortment of injuries.

Alfred brought in the plates of crepes and casually announced, “There was a young lady here to see Master Damian this afternoon, just after your last check. She’s up with him right now.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?!” The ones who could, jumped up to check on their youngest.

“Hello, family. I am perfectly fine, so don’t scold me for getting up. Dinner looks delicious, Alfred.” Damian and the visitors strolled in.

“Why do you have a baby in your arms? How are you up?”

“This is Marinette Wayne, my wife, and our daughter, Zara. Marinette healed me; thus, I am awake and about.”

“Since when were you married? With a child? When did you get a girlfriend?” Questions echoed from all corners of the table.

“We met when I was in Paris to help Ladybug six years ago. We got married last year and Zara is nine months old now.”

“Jon helped Damian escape when he needed and covered for us. He’s quite good at illusions,” Marinette spoke up. “Hi, I’m Marinette Wayne; it’s nice to meet you all.”

Taglist (open): @jennifer-rose123 @questioning-blob-of-fog

[liminal-zone]

fanfic round up 2023

(2021, 2022)

LIST OF FANWORKS

Posted

Crave (LOTR | haladriel | tentacles and rings of power | rated E)

somewhere in the haze (LOTR | Celeborn/Sauron | mutual stockholm syndrome | rated M)

taking me with your song (The Little Mermaid (2023) | Ariel/Eric, Ariel/Ursula | tentacles and possession and mindfuckery | rated E)

can't escape the ghost of you (The 100 | clexa, clarke/the judge | being fucked by the divine wearing the face of your dead lover is better than therapy | rated M)

Eating fire (SPN | Claire Novak | the girl who was castiel grieves for her fathers | rated T)

Bound (SPN | megstiel | a demon and her angel | rated NR)

uncharted territory (Supergirl | supercorp | the dangers of being hated by a luthor | rated M) (technically, just chapter 4 counts for 2023)

nothing can go wrong when you're in love (Nimona (2023) | Nimona/Gloreth | when your boss’ boyfriend looks like your ex, ugh! | rated Gen)

through a father’s eyes (Narnia | King Lune | dads gotta dad | rated Gen)

atomic blonde (Narnia, LOTR | Susan/Eowyn | it’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war | rated M)

Beware how you give your heart (LOTR | haladriel | a fourth age haunting | rated M) (a wip!!)

a little touch in the night (LOTR | haladriel | a love letter in tiny bites | rated T)

+three yuletide offerings to be revealed in January!

WIPS

MCU: the king and queen of Asgard wrt Valkyrie/Carol Danvers

MCU: the final conclusion of my winterbaron sugar daddy fic

LOTR: Doriath trash party wrt Melian/Galadriel

LOTR: “Sauron becomes a tree”

LOTR: dark Galadriel/Samwise and their garden of the world

LOTR: healing generational trauma with fourth age Arwen and her peepaw

The Matrix: Trinity and Smith as mirrors

Good Omens: Crowley haunted by his angel

Star Wars: A really scandalous dinluke sex pollen

Total number of completed works/fandoms written in: fifteen completed works in 2023 for a total of just over 32k words; six LOTR, two SPN, two Narnia, the rest sundry & various.

OVERALL THOUGHTS: ::taps the top of this car:: you can put so much monsterfucking in this bad boy, jfc.

PERSONAL FAVORITE: Getting unblocked by the most unlikeliest of sources and FINISHING MY SUPERCORP HATESEX. uncharted territory finished FIVE YEARS LATER. This has been a weight on my shoulders for years; I always knew it ended with a sadistic Lex Luthor torturing Kara (oop), but it was time passing and The Flash (2023) that got me where I needed to be to get that banged out. I’m really really pleased how that ended, and that I actually can finish a WIP.

MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED: Bound is really exceptional. It was part of my WIP amnesty week, and a revisitation and remix of a meg masters fic I wrote in 2013 after I had a terrible life-altering accident. My favorite 2023 additions are how she can only speak in the language of Sodom at the end. It’s not a GREAT fic, but I really love Meg and I love Meg & Castiel.

MOST POPULAR: Definitely Nimona (nothing can go wrong when you're in love) with 1,200+ kudos. Y’all, the teen/gen fic in younger fandoms hits hard. OOPS. re: my deeply funny stats for the little mermaid tentacles fic with over 3k hits and 86 kudos. AHAHHAHAH. welp.

STORY WITH THE SEXIEST MOMENT: OKAY, so this is sexy specific to me: in Crave, Galadriel taunts Sauron about how he has to fuck Ar-Pharazôn (a mini love letter to my beloved 5ummit!) and this, to me, is everything: “And you’ll never enjoy Ar-Pharazôn’s little prick again,” she says, drinking in the horror of his recent memories, a soured scheme. “Your play at feigned pleasure in service to a base creature will be ash in your mouth now. You will only think of the taste of my cunt with his cock shoved in your whore mouth.” The crass words burn on her lips but she can sense how he trembles, even in this form. “You’ll hunger for the taste of me. And when he’s dead, when you’ve sucked the miserable mortal life out of him, you’ll never take a lover again for the rest of your unnatural life,” she says. “You know where your dick should be sheathed. In me and no where else.”

MOST FUN STORY TO WRITE: Okay, I traveled for work a LOT this year and one night I was feeling down and angry about the world and asked on twitter that for every like, I’d write a soft haladriel headcanon and by the end of the night, i had the bulk of a little touch in the night and I was such a happy delighted lil soul. Such a highlight of the year.

HARDEST: A tie between Crave, which was writing on hard mode since I’m violently anti dominant Sauron (oop), and uncharted territory since I had been blocked for years.

BIGGEST SURPRISE: The delicious lush connection of Celeborn/Sauron in somewhere in the haze that STARTED AS A JOKE and now I’m full rarepair conspiracy theory into it.

DID YOU TAKE ANY RISKS IN WRITING THIS YEAR? Posting SPN in 2023, lol what was that. And neither of them explicitly destiel. Girl. Both tanked but I love those two fics.

MOST UNINTENTIONALLY TELLING STORY: Okay, one of my yuletides this year is really too close to something I’m working through in therapy. Oop.

FAVORITE LINES/SCENES: Okay literally everything in atomic blonde, that fic is nonstop bangers imho. I love this especially:

“Ah, there it is,” he replies. Stops, and turns to look into her eyes. To drink in her fury. “This isn’t your world, Daughter of Eve. Take your cursed horn and your beautiful face and take the little shieldmaiden too for all I care and leave Middle Earth to me. Grow old and find joy in women’s work.” He blinks, nonsense words emerging out of him: “In Christian Dior dresses and Chanel lipstick, in Italian leather handbags and silk nylons, in handsome British officers and those American boys who offer more than kisses, in the rumble of a Jaguar and the cries of healthy babies who do not fear war. Live and die on an island far, far away.” He blinks again. “I do not want you here.”

MY FAVE PART OF FANDOM IN 2023: Repeatedly saying “you hear me, baby? hold together” at the haladriel fandom like Han Solo does to the Millennium Falcon and we did! We made it another year!!! Let’s go, 2024!!!! (YOU HEAR ME, BABY. HOLD TOGETHER.)

2024 WRITING AMBITIONS: same as last year’s: Write more steadily and consistently. Get back into the drabble mode. Make time, take time, just do it. It doesn’t have to be groundbreaking, it just has to be creating something. The joy of creation is like nothing else. Chase that high.

2024 FICS ON THE IMMEDIATE HORIZON: Jan 1 - htp trash fic exchange Feb 3 - rffa exchange March - haladriel exchange!

[pentagonieslut]

okay now that the default ai post is done lol

which one do you want first my cute little needy sluts?

DKB lune + triad prince au fic

DKB junseo + cockwarming

DKB echan + face sitting with a thicc baddie 🤤

BAE173 jmin + gambling (this is a BL)

BAE173 muzin + part 2 of the demon Drabble

BAE173 doha + teasing

BAE173 bit + MILF x tiny

GHOST9 junhyung + bondage

GHOST9 junhyung x TEMPEST hanbin + miraculous ladybug (this is a BL)

MCND castle j + you performing on stage (refer to that new vid of ice spice doing ✨ that ✨ on stage)

idol (choose an idol) + psychopathy

idol (choose an idol) + crime (ie. the first 48)

WAYV hendery + triad

WAYV xiaojun + triad

CiiPHER / EVNNE keita + gokusen

RIIZE shotaro + nilli mambo (block b’s song nilli mambo)

[livingonmyown]

Happy Birthday @craiteys​ !!! 🥳 I hope all your birthday wishes and dreams come true.

Here is a little gift-fic for your birthday 🎁 Inspired by your lovely Cirillach fic ‘I Give You My Heart’ - hope you like it 😉

**

The moon was high in the sky when he wakes. Its shining through the open windows of their small cottage in Toussaint, illuminating the cozy bedroom. The moonlight catches Avallac’h’s attention, but before he fully opens his eyes, he feels a tiny, clammy finger on his lower lip, and he smiles gently, recognizing the touch immediately. It is his precious luned, the fruit of love and passion that he shares with his beloved Zireael, his firstborn daughter - Evalina Espane aep Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.

He opens his aquamarine eyes slowly only to meet pair of huge almond-shaped emerald eyes of his daughter looking at him playfully as she giggles, poking her little finger into Avallac’h’s mouth again.

‘Ceadmil elaine luned’, the elf says quietly, mindful of not waking up Ciri, who was sleeping blissfully with her head pillowed on Avallac’h’s shoulder, with their daughter sandwiched between them. Avallac’h could always tell Ciri's varying degrees of exhaustion, and he knew she needs a proper rest after her last witcher contract on Nekkers.

His daughter, however, doesn't share her father's thoughts and relentlessly continues kicking her legs, and Avallac’h sighs in defeat. ‘Like mother, like daughter’, he murmurs to himself, unsuccessfully trying to calm his daughter's night zeal. But the little one, just like her mother, doesn’t take no for an answer, and instead of calming down, she props herself up on her knees in a playful manner and presses her little finger to Ciri’s lips.

‘Mamma!’

‘Shh, caelm’, Avallac’h whispers, bringing her closer to his chest, and kissing the top of her head, surrounded by ashblond locks that look like a halo. Although Avallac’h knows that despite his daughter's angelic looks she can be a little devil just like her mom. Hen ichear in her veins is fiery, but it also warms Avallac’h’s heart. ‘Mamma’s sleeping’, he explains gently, but Evalina just like Ciri never gives up, and protests loudly and the elf feels the curl of Ciri’s lips against his shoulder.

‘She gets that from you', Avallac’h thinks and Ciri’s smile widens. Evalina snatches the moment and presses her head between Ciri’s breasts and Avallac’h can hear in his head Ciri’s reply, ‘She gets that from you!’

Avallac’h chuckles, a low rumble that makes Ciri’s heart beat faster and prompts Evalina to join her father with joyous giggles.

‘I see that both of you decided to interrupt my beauty sleep’, Ciri tries to sound accusatory, but she can feel nothing else except happiness and fulfilment.

‘Mamma, Dada!’, Evalina babbles delightfully, and Avallac’h chuckles again before he lovingly kisses his Swallow and Ciri realizes that she might be the luckiest person in the whole world to fall asleep with her own little family by her side.

**

[pretty-dianxia]

Hello!! I saw that you shared a couple of ranwan fics before… So, I was wondering, Would you like to share with us your favorites?? 🥺 You know… for science 🙏

Anon!!! Hi!!! well… I'm not really that comfortable sharing fics, since our tastes may differ, but, under your own risk here are my favourites (or at least the ones I've saved):

The Right Hand of Light: Explicit, canon divergence, TXJ (0.5 timeline,) hurt/comfort.

Even Unseen Stars Still Burn: Teen and up, fantasy AU, Xia Sini is an AI (as an extension of CWN consciousness.)

The Best Way to Learn: Explicit, modern setting (university,) mutual pining, horny shit.

Armor up and say your prayers: Teen and up, modern setting, MR is a boxer, CWN is a doctor, first meetings.

The banished immortal: Teen and up, canon divergence, MR 2.0, first meetings, getting together, fluff.

Tiny shorts: Explicit, modern setting (roomates,) fem!ranwan, horny shit.

Tonight: Explicit, modern setting, exhibitionism and voyeurism, horny shit // good shit (MR masturbates displaying his beauty to CWN.) This fic deserves more love.

Be mine, if only for a night: Teen and up, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, pastries!! ✨

Counterpoint: Explicit, getting together, long fic, teacher/student relationship, modern setting (university AU), Pianist AU (extra points for not mentioning the basic bitch classical piano pieces, the author knows, and we appreciate it!!! 💖 swear to god that I stop reading when a fic mentions Clare de lune, jfc!!)

The idiot's guide to self-satisfaction: Explicit, MR is a camboy, horny shit.

I've read a lot, but sometimes I download them in my kobo or on my phone and forget to bookmark, so sorry, for a more complete, and in my opinion, a trustable list of ranwan fics, here is this beautiful master list made by @txjsmaid ✨💖

[gayliketheancients]

hiiii gay can i request pandalilly raising baby luna perhaps? just fluffy slice of life, maybe their typical weekend mornings <333

I GOTCHU. You made my whole day asking for this thank you sm

micro Pandalily raising Luna fic at 560 words❣️

————

Lily had long given up on sleeping in.

During the war, she felt like all she did was sleep most days. The exhaustion of being pregnant with Harry and never knowing where, when, or with who she’d be safe then had left her in a constant state of fatigue. There were days when even the idea of leaving the bed to go to the bathroom had felt like an insurmountable task.

The war had ended with Peter, and his quick thinking. He’d brought Voldemort to their home, but he hadn’t left them unprepared. Lily wasn’t ashamed in saying she was the one who unleashed the curse that ended the war that night. A muggleborn ending the war of blood supremacy hadn’t exactly gone over with a parade, but she couldn’t complain compared to how life had changed.

Mornings had gone from tense, quiet affairs waiting for the post to being filled with insane breakfasts and stories narrated in funny voices. The end and the beginning all came down to her, her family, and their refusal to give up at all costs.

Looking through the kitchen window at where Luna and Pandora were hunting in the back garden for nargels, Lily couldn’t find herself to regret it.

Their home wasn’t the largest, and it surely wasn’t how most wizarding families chose to decorate. Little drawings Luna and Harry had done hung everywhere on the largest wall of the sitting room, in full view for their guests when they had tea. There were books everywhere, a small cauldron of Wolfsbane being brewed for Remus, toys on every possible surface. There were no enchanted portraits, but there were pictures of their loved ones hung everywhere, filling their home with as much love as they could.

James would be dropping Harry off for her week soon, and Lily couldn’t wait. They had an outing planned to take the kids out to pick out a kneazel kitten, and everything felt right in the world finally.

Lily waved her wand, enchanting the tray of drinks to float out in front of her as she headed outside.

“Mama!” Luna yelled as soon as Lily crossed the threshold, running at her full force. Lily bent down just in time to grab the four year old launching herself into her arms.

“La Lune, baby, what are you and Mummy doing?” She asked with a smile.

Luna’s face scrunched up slightly on her nose. “It’s a secret.”

“Well, good for you, little love, that I am an excellent secret keeper.”

Luna let out a little laugh, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“Mummy asked me to help pick out all the prettiest flowers so she could give them to you. But I can’t ‘cause you’re the prettiest flower! I don’t know what to do,” the little one whined, and Lily couldn’t help but grin.

“Maybe we can pick them out together? That way Mummy and I can both give each other flowers?”

Luna looked like she was thinking it over hard for a moment before nodding. She grabbed Lily’s hand and tried with all her tiny strength to pull her toward the butterfly bushes first, saying they were her favorite.

The early morning sun shone brightly on their little family that weekend, and Lily couldn’t even find herself missing wanting to sleep in anymore.

[haravath0t]

Maybe It’s Time

Pairing: a bit of Steve x Reader, but leaning towards Bucky x Reader in the end

Warning: angst, fluff in the end! Feelings...

A/N: So... another comfort fic... gotta thank @world-of-aus for helping me on this one! Bucket, thank you for literally being a real one and helping me through it all! I owe you so much girl! It’s been a hard one for me as of late folks, so this one kinda feels like a comfort fic to me personally. Kinda out of the blue, but as always, writing seems to be my escape. So for all who are going through something, I hope you know I am here for you and I am willing to lend an ear for you guys! I hope you all seek a bit of comfort through this one shot! Enjoy! 

Bucky’s eyes gently opened, hearing something coming from the other room. Something that has to have become a regular thing for him now for a long while. Your piano playing. 

He recognized this piece more than ever: Debussy’s Clair de Lune.

He sat up gently on the edge of the bed, grunting softly while Alpine softly purred as she stirred herself awake. It was raining; a soft pitter patter of the rain falling against the glass windows accompanied with your soft playing would have been enough to have kept him asleep, his nightmares slowly fading away and going into the wonderful dreams that he had once dreamt of. However, tonight’s playing was different, for the once playful, joyous, and thoughtful tunes coming from those black and white keys have been melancholic for quite a while. Too long of a while. Tonight, something within Bucky Barnes compelled him to do something different from these previous nights. Rather than admire your playing from afar, letting your emotions run wild by yourself, he’ll make his presence known. 

Alpine meowed, watching her owner slowly put on his fuzzy slippers (courtesy of you) before she fell asleep. Bucky smiled sleepily, giving her one more pet before quietly making his way out of his room, and into the dark living room in your guys’ shared floor. The sight in front of him definitely reflected Clair de Lune: beautiful, yet filled with emotion, filled with sorrow. It hurt him even more to know just why you were hurting.

You were restless. You were critical. You tried, you fought, you pushed, you pulled. 

Yet it was never enough.

At the end of the day, you got hurt. You were thrown away, rendered useless to someone who you loved deeply and passionately. Someone who you devoted yourself to, thinking they’d dedicate themselves in the same manner. You remember that day clearly, feelings still fresh from a year ago.

You were still wrapping your head around the fact that you were part of the half who disappeared in the blip. However, thoughts were brushed aside as he smiled softly at you as Bruce got everything ready, coming towards you as you returned the smile on your face. You wrapped your arms around him, your soft eyes looking at him with love and devotion, as it always had. “Be careful,” you whisper into his lips with a smile. “I will, Y/N… don’t you worry.” He says with a smile nuzzling his nose against yours. “I just wanna ensure your safety, for your sake,” You reply with a giggle. “My sake or yours?” He questions with a much bigger smile. “How about we settle with both?” You whisper, your giggles ringing in Steve’s ears. He couldn’t help the long and loving kiss that was shared between the both of you before he went off to the platform. 

You watched your boyfriend, standing in his suit, Mjolnir in one hand and the case of the Infinity Stones in the other, standing in the middle of the platform with a determined look on his face. You smiled even more, for Steve Rogers, being himself, has managed to save the world once again with the Avengers. You smiled alongside Bucky and Sam who were watching him disappear out of sight. “And returning in 5… 4… 3… 2...1…” Bruce counts down, only for you three to see no one back on the platform. You began to worry. Did something go wrong? What happened? Is he okay? 

Your mind was laden with panic and it wasn’t until you saw a figure sitting alongside the lake, shield propped up next to him. Confusion laced your worried features, but the two men knew. Sam talked to him as you looked on in shock, mind still connecting things together. You shook your head in denial as you saw a wedding ring on his finger. At that moment you knew.

You weren’t enough.

You slowly made your way, deciding to be strong, heart wrenching when you saw this once burly, blond man now with wrinkles, haggard, and with a wedding ring. 

“Y/N,” he says, but you cut him off, forcing a smile on your face, forcing your tears to not fall down. 

“N-no. It’s okay… I.. I get it… I’m.. I’m happy for you, Steve.”

You hated it. You hated having to have your hand held by him one last time, a squeeze of hands quietly speaking of the terms that you both are now on. You were never his. Never. Peggy remained his one and true love that beat time and space. And who were you to argue? She rightfully gained her place. Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that there was no room for you in Steven Grant Rogers’ life. 

But that didn’t stop the hurt that still clouds your mind and thoughts. The remembrance of the hurt and the deception on your side of the story was still fresh. The repeat of the memory merely adds salt to your still fresh wounds. It’s been inside you since then, the neverending ache courses through you. So you play. You play the grand piano and its keys with your heart out on your sleeve not caring for the sobs that leave your lips, hands gracefully touching the keys of the piano, a slow crescendo coming in as the feelings of hurt slowly grow. Your eyes stay shut as your left hand starts to move more and more, right hand playing chords and the sorrowful melody. By the time the climax of the song arrives, you are sobbing even more than before, body shaking as the pain takes on a more tangible form on your piano. Your head is swirling, your body feeling like it was going to float, you were so clouded in your mind, until a particular man with a metal arm sat quietly next to you, putting you back in your space, where you currently were.  

However, you stopped dead in your tracks, embarrassed that your best friend had caught you in this particular moment, so your eyes try their hardest to remain on the keys. You already knew that his ocean blue ones were staring at you. His metal hand carefully rests upon your right hand, lightly interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“I’m not over it either,” he whispers in your ear.

Again, you cry, turning your body slightly to cling to his figure. Cries slowly turn into sobs. Hugging Bucky for dear life, you said the things that have been in your head for so long. 

“B-Buck.. Why did he leave?! Why?! And when we just came back?! Why Peggy, Buck?! What does she have that I don’t?! What has our time together meant to him?! Is it because I’m not as skinny as her?! Is she smarter than me? Is she funnier? More humorous? Is she kinder? Is she-”

Bucky felt the same way. He knew how you felt. He felt that way about the punk too. He wasn’t thinking of Captain America, but Steve. The little kid from Brooklyn, the same guy who had asthma, who put newspapers in his shoes, who hid an extra key under a brick. He felt like he lost his place too. However, he knew how you felt was just as bad. He understood you. It pained him to see you crying. Admittedly enough, he only hoped that you look beautiful in his eyes despite your sobs and tears. A literal angel, he’d think to himself. Unfortunate that he can’t teach his best friend a thing or two about taking care of his girl. You were in pain for so long.

His hands cupped your wet cheeks and slowly wiped the tears with his thumbs, a tiny smile when he feels you relax to his touch, kissing your forehead to further soothe you. “Steve doesn’t know what was in front of the whole time, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

“He did… apparently I’m only a substitute till there was a way. That’s all I am to anyone. A substitute.”

“I never thought of you that way.” He admits quietly, so quietly, that only you both can hear, causing you to look up at him in surprise. “H-Huh? But…” “I said what I said, Y/N… I mean it. You were, are, and always will be such a sweet, kind, and beautiful dame. There’s no kind like you anywhere here, not even Peggy or anyone for that matter can replicate what you have sweetheart. So who cares who’s skinnier? Who cares if one is more funny? In the end of the day, we knew you did all you could. It hurts. I know. But, you’re gonna have that one guy who is gonna treat ya like no man ever could. I’ll make sure of that.” He whispers, looking at you dead in the eyes with understanding and love in his eyes. A small smile finally kisses your face. Not a fake one, but a small genuine one. One that only someone like James Buchanan Barnes would notice. “That’s my girl.” He whispers and smiles, hugging you once again.

He pulls away, starting to play the first few notes of Clair de Lune, eyes carefully watching yours, an invitation. You shyly joined in, allowing yourself to take your place and playing a part. You and James couldn’t help the smile that goes on your faces as it starts to progress. You watched as both his flesh and metal hand graced the keys effortlessly, nicely paired along with yours as they also graced the keys, completing this song’s melody. What was wreaking of pain and sorrow turned pensive, calming, even providing a form of resolution. You guys smiled as you both played your notes louder and louder the two of you effortlessly mirroring each other, no need to say the dynamic, the mood, the notes to play, it was all unplanned, yet it still sounded beautiful. A giggle leaves your mouth, another genuine one for the first time, which causes Bucky to smile big, happy to see you smiling again. He watches as your guys’ fingers glide through the keys, hands sometimes weaving in and out harmoniously, never causing extra struggle. 

“Thank you, James… I really really feel better after all of that” you say softly, letting yourself nuzzle your face into his torso, hugging the super soldier tightly. “You always know what to say to me. You always know what to do. Always have. Thank you,” You whisper, smiling softly as the man tightens his hold on you. You both chuckled when a yawn now leaves your lips, resulting in Bucky scooping you up bridal style. “Not a problem, sweetheart. I’m always gonna be here. M’not going anywhere I promise.” He says softly, yet in a determined tone. He vowed to himself no matter where he stood in your life, he was gonna make sure you were loved and cared for. He always wanted that for you. Always looked at you in a way he never thought he’d look at a woman. Even today the way he perceived you was the same: a kind, beautiful, giving, and optimistic person who was kind to anyone but herself. “Why don’t we get you to bed, huh? I think you deserve this to say the least.” He says softly, making his way through the hallway into your bedroom. 

“A-Actually. Do you think I can just lay with you tonight?” You ask shyly. You felt comfortable in his arms. He made you feel warm, protected. You didn’t want to let that go. Not now. Of course, Bucky could not say no, so he carried you to his room, where you both met a sleeping Alpine perched on her cute tower. You smiled as he laid you down gently before he laid next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist. “Thank you, Buck…you know I’m grateful for you,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and relaxing. Bucky only smiled and rubbed your back for comfort. “Never forget I’ll do anythin’ for you sweetheart. Promise.” He whispers, sleep taking over him a bit quicker than a normal night. You smiled as you watched his breathing steady out, knowing he was asleep. You couldn’t help the grin from ear to ear before you slept yourself. It will take a while for this pain of yours to end, but… maybe, just maybe it’s time for you to stop looking at what’s behind and what’s beyond. Maybe it’s time for you to rediscover your worth, who you can love and who can love you.  Maybe it’s time that you trust yourself, for you are worth it all and you alone is a good enough reason to live your life as it should. And maybe, just maybe… you’ll see where the brunette man with a metal arm in front of you will stand in your life. Just one step at a time and one day at a time, you tell yourself as you slowly drift into dreamland. However, you were happy, for this was the first night you felt like you were enough, and felt that hope that used to reside in your heart. For once in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight in your heart anymore, for behind you, Bucky Barnes was right behind you carrying it right with you.

Permanent Taglist: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @whew-oh-em-gee @tomholland-96 @lordyitsjordy @letstalkaboutsebbaby @thee-soom-soom @lookiamtrying @vesper852 @hailhydra920 @buckybarnesthehotshot @heyiamthatbitch​ @rodrikstark​

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic feb 12 - fireside - 1k words

aka teenager!Harry and jeggy dads comforting him

Regulus startles awake at the sound of the front door and blinks his eyes open to Harry standing before it, shoulders tense and a deep crease between his brows. He slips into a little more sheepish expression when he realises he’s just woken Regulus up.

James is still snoring lightly next to him, one arm thrown over his head and shirt rucked up to expose the wide happy trail over his belly.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, visibly gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he kicks off his converse.

“That’s okay,” Regulus responds, voice raspy from residual sleep, and he watches Harry stiffly hang his jacket and then just stare back at their front door like it personally offended him.

Regulus sniffs and detangles himself from James’ big, heavy arm half thrown around his shoulders to get up. Harry only swivels his head once Regulus comes up right behind him, plush slippers shuffling against the hardwood floor.

The hard line looks even deeper up close and Regulus’ heart clenches with it as Harry looks up at him with a stormy kind of torment in his beautiful, big eyes. He clasps his son’s neck with a palm and tugs him into motion, nodding down the hall. 

“Kitchen,” he decides and Harry nods, letting himself be guided into the adjacent room.

Regulus seats him on one of the stools at the kitchen island and tugs a few scratch cards from the mail on the counter in front of him. Harry pulls his wallet out of his jeans’ back pocket, letting it slap down on the tabletop before grabbing it again and rummaging for a fitting coin as Regulus goes to grab two mugs for them. 

He grabs Harry’s favourite—a birthday present from Ron and Hermoine engraved with a bunch of pictures of them, the handle and inside dark red—and then the curvy white one with a cat wearing sunglasses sketch art for himself. Regulus pours milk and pops them into the microwave.

When he turns Harry is furiously rubbing away on the sweepstakes, already through his third and bouncing his knee restlessly in his seat.

Regulus lets him do as he needs, watching him as he waits for the microwave to ping. He grabs the honey from the shelf, fishes for a spoon in the cutlery drawer and assembles their hot beverage once the mugs are ready to be taken out.

The spoon is clinking against the ceramic as Regulus mixes in the viscous sugar and when he turns to join his son, Harry is already standing in front of him, expression troubled, still.

His back to the kitchen light Regulus can see Harry’s eyes glassy behind his specs so he puts the mugs down on the counter again and opens his arms for Harry to step into.

His son goes immediately, slumping forward and wrapping his arms loosely around his back, forehead coming down on the top of Regulus’ shoulder with a heavy sigh. Regulus cups the back of his head, fingers scratching soothingly and the other hand driving long strokes up and down his back. His hoodie smells smoky, his hair too—he must have been at the fireside with his friends again.

“Bad evening?” Regulus mumbles into the black bird’s nest of his son’s hair.

Harry ruts his forehead against him in a nod, grunting an affirmative.

Regulus sighs, “I’m sorry about that, bug.”

There’s a sniffle, more nodding and Regulus suspects Harry is carefully choosing not to use his voice again lest it breaks.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Harry lifts his head and Regulus’ hands go to cup his cheeks. “Maybe later,” he answers with a shrug, eyes averted.

“Of course,” Regulus nods, swiping his thumbs over Harry’s temples.

“It’s just–” he breaks off with a huff and Regulus ducks his head to catch his gaze.

“Just…?”

Harry takes a deep breath, “There’s someone.” He scrunches his nose so hard is dislodges his glasses, “They’re fucking infuriating, honestly.”

“Okay,” Regulus nods. He lightly narrows his eyes, “In a feelings kind of way?”

Harry groans bitterly at that, head tipping back and eyes clamping shut. “I hate being a teenager.”

The corners of his lips tug but Regulus reigns it in quickly enough before Harry sees. He rakes his fingers through his son’s hair instead and pulls him into a fierce forehead kiss.

Harry sighs explosively and simply returns back to the embrace just when James, expression sleep bleary and hair somehow more awful than their sons, shuffles into the kitchen, scratching through the hair on his stomach. They exchange a quick glance once James blinks the situation into consciousness, noticing the violated scratch cards and probably the smell of sweetened milk in the air as well.

“I love you, baby,” Regulus mumbles in a remindful tone, arms squeezing around their son.

Harry’s hair tickles Regulus’ nose when he nods. “I know.”

James drapes himself over Harry’s back, his hands sliding along Regulus waist and down until he can comfortably hook his thumbs into the waistband of Regulus’ sweats. “Love you, Hazza,” his husband mumbles, voice firm despite the sleep clinging to it and his beard scratching against the lining of Harry’s hoodie.

Regulus kisses the crown of his head and then the side of Harry’s.

They make an additional mug for James—with double the amount of honey for his husband because that glorious dad-stomach doesn’t come from just anywhere—and then all pile on the couch, huddled close together under the throw blanket as James puts on Brooklyn99 on Netflix.

Regulus’ arm is numb in a matter of ten minutes and James is back asleep in a matter of five. The soft snoring seems to be great background white noise though because they barely get through one episode when Harry’s breaths start coming slower as well where he’s cuddled into their sides.

He clicks the TV off, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions and when Regulus falls asleep it’s to the sounds of his family and the smell of warm honey and a whiff of smokey bonfire. 

They should make smores tomorrow.

[attickit]

trying to write canon compliant fics are hard cause here i am trying to follow up on some facts and so i start questioning shit like “what counts as death? is disseminating as data into the width of all knowledge on the face of the earth considered a death? does how long you are scattered as data before you are brought back come into consideration cause it could possibly count as being in a coma?”

[pagingevilspawn]

Can you write a fix just full of jolex fluff or jo and Luna fluff Because I really need something from Thursday episode?

clair de lune

wc: 2.2k

pairing: none. Jo & Luna mother-daughter relationship.

summary: sweet little moment between jo and luna

rating: general audiences.

category: fluff.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff. (also, lots of time skips, but that's intentional)

AN: ik you requested this after 17x16 anon, but i hope this still works now! this is easily the fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i hope you enjoy! also, sorry my fics have been so short lately...but what can you do. (contemplated posting this in a couple days, but ultimately didn't. don't start thinking i'll start posting regularly now though haha)

____

“Welcome home Luna,” she says to the quiet apartment, reveling in the way it felt like a home. She sits on the floor, rocking the car seat back and forth while her little girl sleeps, her fist curled into the blanket Link had gifted her a few months prior. She uses her finger to trace the outline of Luna’s nose, giggling silently when it scrunches up in her sleep.

She glances around the apartment, large and spacious in the matter of there was no furniture in it. New things would be delivered soon, but for now she had herself, her little girl, a mattress, and a Pack ‘N Play, and wouldn't wish for anything else.

Luna squirms a bit in her seat, and Jo thinks she’s going to wake up, when she really just circles her hand around Jo’s finger that had fallen close to her chest.

She feels her heart clench, immediately scrabbling at her phone to capture the moment, breathing a sigh of relief when the picture is taken and her baby hadn’t moved.

With that, another photo is added to the album she had labeled under Luna, and she laughs to herself at the absurd amount of pictures she already had of her daughter.

After a few minutes had gone, she tries to remove her finger to get a snack, but settles back down when Luna’s grip around her finger just tightens.

She sighs, but it’s more of a promise to the words that she says next.

“I’ll never leave you, I promise.”

_____

She was driving frantically through the streets of Seattle, rain beating down against her windshield as she made a turn. She bit her bottom lip anxiously, nibbling on it until she could taste the copper on her tongue.

Pulling into the parking garage she stops the car haphazardly into the nearest space, snatching her purse so quickly from the passenger seat it nearly whips her in the face.

While in the elevator she pushes the top floor button so many times it nearly breaks, tapping her foot against the cool marble tile. Normally, she would marvel at the way that the elevator had such flooring (three months of living there and she still wasn’t used to such luxury) but tonight it was the furthest thing from her mind.

When the doors finally slide open, she’s out of them so quickly she nearly trips over her own feet, brushing multiple strands of dark hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ears and out of her eyes. She swings the door of her home open, not even caring to notice the sound it made when it banged against the wall, too focused on the cries coming from the nursery.

Before she even reaches the room, the nanny comes out, carrying a crying Luna in her arms, trying to calm her down with gentle words and hushes.

“Oh thank god,” she says, exhaustion plain on her features. “I've been trying to get her to quiet down for over thirty minutes now. I’ve tried feeding her, changing her, rocking her, but nothing’s worked. I called you as soon as I knew you would be off work. I’m so sorry Jo, it’s just that—”

“—Hey, hey,” she says gently, taking her daughter from the girl. “It’s okay, I’ve got it from here. Thank you, take thirty from my wallet,” she starts rocking Luna in her arms, the screaming cries coming slowly to a stop once she comes to the realization that she was in her mother’s arms.

The nanny lets out a sigh, “How—? I mean, I’ve tried everything, but—” she stops, tucking the money into her back pocket as she watches Luna’s cries settle down to soft whimpers.

Jo smiles gently, locking eyes with the younger woman, “Sometimes she just needs her Mom.”

____

They were currently in the middle of a very intense game of peek-a-boo, Luna giggling and clapping her hands like crazy every time Jo would reveal herself behind her hands, each grin from the little one bringing one to Jo’s face as well. She could listen to the sound of her daughter’s laugh all day.

After one more boo, Luna laughs so much she falls back onto the couch, squirming and kicking her legs into the air, and Jo scoops her up, blowing kisses on her belly and ticking her little feet. “Mama’s so silly isn’t she?” she teases snuggling her nose with Luna’s.

“Mama, Mama!” she babbles, clapping her chubby palms against Jo’s face.

Jo freezes, not even noticing a small tear had escaped her eyes until she sees it fall on the tiny girl’s onesie. She smiles immediately, her cheeks hurting from how wide she was grinning.

“Yeah baby girl, I’m your Mama,” she hugs her daughter close to her chest, placing tiny kisses on the tuft of hair on her head, letting her happy tears fall freely, her heart so full she felt that it could burst.

The happiness she felt in that moment was greater than one she had ever felt before, and she knew it was a moment she would ever be able to forget.

It was official, she was a mom.

____

“Mommy, mommy!” Luna squeals, running and attaching herself to her mom’s legs the second she walks through the door, latching herself on so tightly Jo doubted anyone would be able to pull her off.

She crouches down and takes her girl in her arms, brushing back her hair from her face, “Hi Lunes,” she places a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you, you know that?”

“I missed you too, Mommy!” the three year old grins, grabbing her mom’s hand and dragging her through Meredith’s house, into the playroom that had somehow held up over years and generations of kids passing through.

She pulls up a plethora of drawings, shoving them into her mom’s hands. “Look Mommy, I made pictures,” she uses her finger to point at the drawing, “That’s you, that’s me, and that’s Chewy!” she exclaims, stopping on a figure which Jo could only assume was their pet goldfish.

“It looks amazing baby,” she places another peck on her daughter’s temple, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Three days without seeing her daughter was torture, but now that she was back home she felt like she could breathe again.

“Make one with me Mommy, then we can be matching,” Luna reasons, already pulling crayons out of the box and displaying them on the table.

Jo looks up to Meredith in the doorway, who only grins. “Go ahead, all she’s been talking about for the past three days is how much she missed you.”

The brunette’s expression relaxes, “Thanks again Mer, I hope she was okay,” she says, using her green crayon to draw the grass in her picture.

Meredith only scoffs, “Are you kidding? She was perfect. She’s my favorite goddaughter for a reason,” she says as she picks up some stray toys that were scattered across the room and tucks them into the chest.

“Were you good for Auntie Mer, Lunes?” Meredith asks the girl, who only nods excitedly.

“Yeah! I ate all my food and I go to sleep early,” she picks up a brown crayon and starts to draw hair on her picture, tongue poking out of her mouth as she focuses.

“You did!” Jo beams, voice cheery and happy when she sees that Meredith had no objections to Luna’s words. “I’m so proud of you baby.”

A little while later, both Wilson’s are done with their picture, and Luna pouts when they put the two next to each other. “Your’s is better,” she whines.

“What!” Jo gasps dramatically, taking Luna and placing her in her lap, wrapping her arms around her . “I think yours is so much better than mine Lunes.”

“Really?”

Jo ruffles her hair, “Oh yeah,” she picks up the drawing and holds it up as if showing it in the light added extra flair. “This one’s going up on the fridge.”

____

Shaking her daughter gently, she brushes her hair out of her eyes, stopping briefly when she feels Luna’s forehead. “Wake up sweetie, you have to get up and I need to take you to daycare.”

Luna groans, “Mommy, my head hurts.” she winces, putting her hand to her head and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, her bottom lip trembling.

Jo’s face immediately twists into a frown, placing her lips to Luna’s forehead, pulling away when she feels the heat practically radiating off of her.

As if she could read her thoughts, Luna immediately rips the comforter off of her. “It’s too hot Mommy.”

Jo hums, concern pooling in the bottom of the stomach; even though all her daughter most likely had was a common case of the flu, the doctor in her couldn’t help but imagine the worst scenarios.

When Luna lets out a hacking cough, she immediately lets the girl bury her head in her chest. “Can I stay with you today Mommy? I don’t feel very good.”

Jo nods, “Of course baby, of course. I’m just going to call work and then I'll take care of you okay?” When Luna agrees she untangles herself from the girl’s hold, quickly rushing back to her room and calling into work, telling them that she wouldn’t be able to make it in that day. She prepares some saltines and medicine, carrying them back to the room where Luna was clutching to her stuffed bunny, another violent cough ripping through her.

She places the crackers down on the bedside table, eventually coaxing Luna into taking the medicine, which she tries to spit out not even seconds after she takes a sip.

“Let’s go to my room, okay? That way you can watch some TV,” Jo says softly, lifting her up and into her arms when she nods, grabbing the crackers for later.

When Luna finally settles into her bed, she curls up to her mom the second she lays down. Jo puts on Disney Jr, and a Puppy Dog Pals re-run plays, lulling Luna into a temporary state of peace.

The rest of the day is filled with lots of soup, crackers, blankets, ice packs, Disney Jr, and so many tissues the wastebasket had started to spill over, but when Luna gets up the next day, completely fine, Jo’s more than relieved.

And when a few days later, Jo wakes up with the same symptoms Luna did a few days prior, the little girl tries to take care of her mother the same way she did her.

_____

Wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks, Jo does a final comb through of her hair, letting it fall into uneven waves. It was too early to cry, there would be plenty of time for that later. “Lunes, ready to go?” she yells, stepping out of the bathroom and sliding on her shoes.

“Yeah Mommy. We need to go now or we’re gonna be late!” Luna stomps into her room, arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip puckered out in an adorable little pout.

Where Luna got her sense of urgency from, she wasn’t sure.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jo laughs to herself, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, taking Luna’s hand as they exit the house. “Wait, wait,” Jo says, stopping outside the door and rushing back inside to return with a blackboard saying ‘First Day of Kindergarten!’.

Luna sighs, but takes the board anyway and holds it up in front of their apartment door, smiling for the camera. When Jo had taken enough, she grabs Luna’s hand again, running to the car with her.

It only takes a few minutes before they arrive at the school, and both girls rush to the line for Mrs. Blake’s class, thankful that they hadn’t gone in yet. Luna makes conversation with the little girl in front of her, Kayla, and Jo talks to her mom, Christy, thankful that she wasn’t as stuck up as some of the other parent’s around them seemed. It was a private school, much different than the ones she had spent her childhood growing up in. She had promised herself ever since she was little that whatever children she had would have a different upbringing than her, and she took that to heart. Even if that meant paying for a ridiculously overpriced private school, with preppy uniforms, and parents that had jobs ranging from lawyers to actors.

When Mrs. Blacks comes out, she introduces herself and lets the parents say goodbye, she feels the pricks of tears in her eyes, trying to no avail to keep them from sliding down her cheeks.

She bends down to her daughter’s height, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting it rest on her rosy cheek. She sighs deeply, biting her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.

“You be good, okay Lunes?”

The little girl nods. “I will. Don’t be sad Mommy.”

Jo laughs, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, releasing her only to rest her forehead against hers. “I love you baby.” she says, and she knows she’ll have to let her daughter go soon, off to start a new adventure, a new chapter in her life that has really only just begun.

“I love you too Mommy.”

[ploffskinpluffskin]

finding myself thinking about this tiny bit in one of my first fics bc Some Kinda Relationship between natori and lune just makes me a little sad

.....by that i mean a totally familial/platonic one jic that needs to be said hhh

But fortune is on his side this time-- an ash-colored paw enters into his vision rather abruptly, and with it his glasses, and it's with a start that Natori realizes the crown prince himself has managed to wedge himself into the cramped, disheveled study with him without his even noticing.

"Ah-- Y-Your Highness--! I didn't hear you come in--"

"That's not surprising," Lune responds good-naturedly. "I think it was in the middle of your fifth sneeze."

Natori's face feels warm. As he finally reaches for his glasses and adjusts them on his nose, he finds himself hoping his blush doesn't show through his light fur. Seemingly sensing his discomfort, however, Lune turns his attention to the open book in the older cat's paws, then to the chaotic disarray of scrolls and papers and records stacked across every surface.

"What are you doing in here, anyway, Natori?"

Natori clears his throat, coughing primly into his sleeve, "Well, since the work on your father's maze's tower is well underway and very near complete, I thought it practical to get started on repairing the portal, as well. I was last aware of the names of at least a handful of still-practicing mages being recorded in a tome kept in this room somewhere..."

He watches Lune look from one end of the tiny room to another, lingering especially on the precarious stacks of yellowed papers on the desk to their left, before that same significant gaze lands back on him, and now there's a familiar sparkle of mischief there that makes Natori wary.

"Really? In this old room? When's the last time anyone set foot in here..? Is this mayhem your way of allowing everyone a glimpse at the real you--?"

Natori abruptly closes the book in his paws with a sharp thud, cutting off the young prince before he can finish his cheeky observation.

"Now, now," he starts with a huff. "I'll not have my many years of impeccable record-keeping slip down the drain because of a single dusty room!"

Lune laughs-- and it's the same laugh he's always had, since he was a child. Natori relaxes, immediately transported back to many years prior, when a small and inquisitive kitten had been his most likely charge, as opposed to the boy's... immensely more troublesome father, and gives him an almost contrite smile in response.

"You're right, you're right, must be just a fluke," Lune continues, unbothered. Natori perhaps hasn’t spent enough time truly appreciating just how little influence the king himself appears to have had on his son-- at least, not in the ways one might fear. And there, Natori corrects himself with a protesting twinge. No, it hasn’t always been this way. If he’s honest with himself, if he really thinks back, the prince is near an identical portrait of his much younger father.

Something about that hurts.

\“Are you okay?” Lune regards him with a quizzical eye. Natori coughs, an exaggerated motion to make up for his earlier lack of movement.

“Y-Yes-- I apologize, my prince. I was only, er, lost in thought.”

also that ‘the prince is near an identical portrait of his much younger father’ at the time was supposed to eventually be revealed as categorically false bc natori just has this habit of putting people on pedestals and explaining away or otherwise ignoring/downplaying their faults

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

Wolfstar Hurt/Comfort fic.

This is my birthday gift for @dobbys-simp. I know it’s a bit late sweetheart, but I hope you like it! 

I suck at angst so don’t judge.

***

It was cold. So cold. Sirius was hunched over in his cell, crying. He tried, again and again to transform into Padfoot, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Remus’ voice echoed in his ears.

“Murderer”.

“Traitor”.

“Death Eater”.

A vaguely familiar scream bounced off of the stone walls, amplifying over and over until Sirius’ ears were splitting from the sound. He wondered if it was his.

Dark haints swooped down around him, malevolent phantoms bent on consuming what happiness was left in the isolated room, on the isolated rock, in the middle of the isolated sea. Alone.

So alone.

So cold.

He was drowning in the darkness, in the sorrow and despair. And Remus was there again, his facing leering out of the darkness. Sirius’ lungs filled with water as he spluttered, help, help, help.

But all Remus did was laugh. A laugh filled with contempt, all of the pent up rage and hatred he had for the man that killed his best friends. He laughed and laughed, holding out a helpful hand to Sirius, only to snatch it away before it was within reach.

A thousand voices filled his ears, but they were all Remus. Remus jeering, Remus hating. Remus telling him over and over again that he deserved this. That he was the reason they were dead.

“Sirius…” it was extraordinary really, how whispers could be so deafening.

“Sirius… you killed them”.

I know Remus, I know!

No matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn’t come out.

“Sirius… I never loved you”.

Sirius screamed again, a terrible, inhuman sound of pure anguish ripping through what was left of his decaying flesh.

“Sirius… none of us ever loved you. We were pretending. The whole time, it was just a game. We pitied you. And so, we said we cared. But it was all pretend. Sirius…”

“Sirius…”

“Sirius”.

“Sirius!”

He woke with a start. He was drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around his legs like a straitjacket, trapping him. He couldn’t move.

And then Remus was there. Not the terrifying, dream version of Remus, but his Remus. Remus, with his amber eyes and his god-forsaken hair. With his hands, surprisingly soft for all the writing they did. With his beautiful scars, tracing a map of every moonlit adventure, every painful night and every blissful morning.

As he looked up at his husband, Sirius’ breathing slowed. Inch by inch, Remus was pulling him back to reality. Back to safety.

The war was over. The war was over, and Voldemort was dead, and Harry was fine, and Remus was fine, and they were married, and they were happy.

Instinctively, his hand reached for the wedding band on his ring finger. The cold, cool metal instantly calmed him, centered him. He ran his thumb over the engraving, which read

La lune et les étoiles, ensemble enfin.

Remus was mumbling sweet nothings, his sweet breath warming his husband’s cheek.

“It’s okay, mon chien. You’re okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re home. You’re home.”

Slowly but surely, Sirius’ breathing returned to normal.

“Do you want to go and sit outside? The sun should be coming up in a minute.”

Sirius nodded. Not trusting himself to speak just yet.

Slowly, with shaking legs and trembling hands, Sirius made his way to the door, guided by Remus. Remus lowered him into the chair on their back porch, and draped a blanket over him. Bending to his knees so his face was level with Sirius’, Remus looked at his husband with that soft, reassuring gaze that Sirius so adored.

“I’m going to go and get us some hot chocolate, okay sweetheart?”

Sirius nodded again. Remus rose to his feet, kissing his husband on the forehead before heading inside to the kitchen.

Sirius gazed out at the horizon. The Scottish countryside stretched on forever. Flower-draped hills seemed to sway in the wind, creating a picturesque haven, tucked away in the northernmost corner of that tiny island. The rising sun shattered the night sky into a million vibrant shards of pink and orange. Sunkissed clouds looked as though had been dipped in molten gold, constantly shifting and rearranging themselves to tell intricate stories in a never-ending blur.

Sirius was happy. And when Remus returned, it was clear to see in his face that he was happy too. Without a word, he handed his husband a mug of hot chocolate. With his other hand, he intertwined their fingers, and fell back into his chair, finally content.

*

It was a pretty house. Like a painting, it was draped in honeysuckle and joy. Thousands of pictures covered every inch of the walls, turning the whole place into a scrapbook of the lives of Moony and Padfoot. Except for one place. There was a wall, above the fireplace, that was completely bare, except for one piece of parchment. It sat, not framed, just open on the mantlepiece. Anyone could tell that it was old. Maybe 60 years old. It had stood the test of time, that parchment. It had stood the test of many other things too. Spilt butterbeer, intrusive teachers, even Mrs. Norris had had a go at tearing it up. But it had always survived. And here it was, all these later, sitting on the mantlepiece of the remaining marauders, and all it would display was two words. Two words that had never, in their saying, been truer than they were in this moment.

Mischief Managed.