#now watch as I disappear again for another 400 years

[autisticlancemcclain]

The doorbell rings, for the billionth time that night, and Keith groans.

“Please,” he begs, “please can we pretend we’re not home.”

His husband gleefully ignores him, disappearing with a faint ‘pop’ sound. If Keith let his ears hear as far as they would like, he’d hear another faint pop as Lance reappeared in front of their door, candy bowl in hand, and the subsequent delighted gasps of various costumed children. He’s hear the young voices yell ‘trick or treat!’ in unison, and mourn the time when he very well could give them a trick instead, as Lance fawns over their little costumes, shovels a truly ridiculous amount of candy into their little pails, and then poofs back into the living room.

But he does not listen in, because he is — as Lance says — the Scrooge of Halloween, and refuses to find any joy in the stupid holiday.

“You are going to get yourself caught,” he mumbles into Lance’s hair, once the witch has resettled on the couch.

“Am not, batboy,” Lance responds breezily, leaning into Keith’s hold. “And so what if I get caught? What’re they going to do? Burn me at the stake again?”

“You jest, but that was a horrible thing to witness. I can’t believe how stupidly happy those asshole pastors and judges were.”

Lance hums, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. “That was 400 years ago, my love. Let’s let the past stay in the past, hm? Plus, it didn’t even hurt, and you bled those motherfuckers dry, anyway.”

“And they were delicious,” Keith growls.

“Mm, somehow I doubt that. Didn’t the abundance of lead in every living surface in the 1600s make blood taste bitter?”

“…Okay, yes, but the satisfaction was very sweet.”

He feels Lance’s smile where its pressed into his collarbone. “Of course, cielo.”

They have a single moment of peace, then Keith’s ears twitch, and he growls.

Lance grins wider. “Hear some footsteps?”

“Your insistence on indulging this stupid tradition is making me want to break my no-eating-children rule.”

Lance laughs as he gets up — again — and puts on his truly gigantic witch’s hat, which is objectively kind of funny, but Lance has been making that joke since the 70s so Keith refuses to laugh. “Haven’t you heard Hansel and Gretel’s story, my love? Eating children is my job.” His eyes twinkle with mirth (literally. He lets a flash of green envelop his irises when he’s amused. Every time). “Don’t you know I’m fattening them up for a reason?”

He pops away again as the doorbell rings. Keith rolls his eyes fondly, unmuting the TV — a human invention he’s admittedly quite fond of — and watching absentmindedly some silly, animated character tries to outwit a bedlam.

Keith scoffs. As if a human could outsmart a bedlam. Those bitches could outsmart G-d. (Keith knows. He’s talked to the guy. Not very bright, that one, despite knowing all information ever to be known.)

“Oh, those ones were so cute!” Lance coos, popping back onto the couch. Keith rolls his eyes again.

Children-eater, his ass.

“The youngest one could barely walk on her little legs. She had the most adorable little fairy costume —”

Keith perks up. “Really? A faerie costume? With the empty eyes and sharp teeth and everything?”

“No, you dork. One of the fake fairies. The human-made ones.”

“Oh.” Keith pouts. Of course humans can’t even get a simply faerie right — as if the fae have tiny iridescent wings and slave their lives away keeping human lives in balance.

(Tinkerbell was a blight to human society. Pidge was so offended when she saw it that she snapped the disc used it to stab the last person she saw litter in her forest.

It was hilarious.)

“I hate humans,” Keith grumps. “They tolerable before, but now they’re infuriating. Damn the printing press.”

Lance bursts out laughing. “I promise you that humans were annoying long before literacy was widespread.”

“Yeah, but at least then I didn’t have to hear about it.”

“No? You never once donned your velvet cape and lace blouse and went looking for human gossip? I seem to recall you taking me to a masquerade ball or seventy in the gothic era, and you were quite happy to do so.”

…Fuck. Lance knows him too well.

“That was different,” Keith insists, lying like a liar. “Gothic era gossip was hilarious. They were terrified of me. I can’t count how many humans would whisper warnings to me about ‘dangerous blood-suckers living in the castle in the mountains’ only to faint when they saw my fangs. Now that —” Keith sighs wistfully — “that was an era.”

Lance places a gentle, mocking hand on his shoulder. “There, there, batboy. Humans still tremble at the thought of you and all the other Edward Cullens of the world.”

Keith glares at his husband, but there’s no heat behind it and the man knows it, judging by his smug, sunny smile. “You are a menace,” he says, leaning over and nipping his ear, just sharp enough to draw blood. “How dare you bring up that… disgrace to the vampire name.”

“The bane of your existence?” Lance clarifies, giggling. “The main reason you have so much beef with the 21st century?”

“I’m completely justified!” Keith cries, digging his fingers into Lance’s ribs. “Now humans write horny fanfiction about my kind instead of wallowing in terror! It’s horrible!”

“I mean, I get why they’re so lusty,” Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s a certain something about those teeth, let me tell you.”

If Keith could blush, he would, but luckily for him he left that behind several hundred years ago.

(A thousand years ago?

Whatever. He’s been alive a long-ass time. Years start to blur.)

He grabs Lance by the ankle, pulling him closer and leaning down to press sharp kisses up his calf.

“Trying to ask for something?” he asks, voice muffled into Lance’s warm skin.

“Definitely trying to get somewhere,” Lance says, voice breathy and affected. “You should —”

Ding-dong!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Keith yells, and Lance bursts out laughing, hands pressed to his reddened face.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “I think we’re done with trick or treating for tonight.”

He snaps his fingers, and a bowl painted like a jack-o-latern filled with candy appears hovering in front of him. He pulls it gently towards him, whispers something in Latin, and tosses the bowl in the air. It hovers directly above them, bright green smoke billowing around it in opaque clouds, before the smoke clears, leaving the bowl looking unchanged. Lance snaps his fingers again and the bowl pops out of existence again.

“There,” Lance says with no small amount of satisfaction. “Now they can get their own candy, and they won’t be able to take more than two, so it should last.”

Keith sighs, pretending to be indifferent, but really he’s just all fond and squishy. He hates halloween, sure — but he loves his husband, and his husband loves halloween, so he’ll put up with the holiday with as minimal complaining as possible.

Keith grins, devilish and sly. Besides, he thinks, the annoying part of halloween is over, now. Now comes the good part: Lance is always more…energetic, when there’s dark magic in the air.

And all hallow’s eve has plenty of dark magic hanging over every street corner.

“Now that there are no more interruptions,” he says, manhandling Lance until he’s straddling Keith’s hips, arms around his shoulders, their faces inches apart. “I think we were getting somewhere.”

Lance smirks, closing the distance.

“Yes, I think we were.”

[jessjad]

Warm Nights

Summary: Dean and Y/N are on vacation. A few nice days at the beach and sea. But Dean didn't expect it to get that hot.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Because... why not? So: 18+ only!! And a grumpy Dean. At least at the beginning.

Word count: 1508

A/N: Hello! :) This is my last contribution to @smellingofpoetry ’s 400 Follower Celebration - Summer Edition. Summer is almost over and I'm really looking forward to autumn. But before that there's a little boozy story. Of course I couldn't exclude our Dean and that's why it's his turn now.

With this I think I covered almost everything. It was really fun writing these one shots and I hope others enjoyed reading them too. With that being said, have fun.

---------------------------------------------------

The only thing keeping Y/N from sleeping was Dean's grunts, which he let out at almost regular intervals. He himself had surprised her with this vacation, because he thought they finally deserved a real break. Y/N was very excited and couldn't wait. But as soon as they arrived, the heat hit them. So they only spent the days on the beach and cooled off in the sea, but the temperatures didn't drop much at night. It was practically impossible to sleep properly and that made Dean grumpy.

"Son of a bitch." he made himself felt at some point and Y/N let out an annoyed breath.

"You wanted to go to Cancun."

"Yeah, but I didn't know they were going to have such an unexpected heat wave here. Otherwise I would have taken us somewhere else."

Dean rolled over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time and let out another dissatisfied sigh. "I can smell my own sweat."

"Maybe you should have informed yourself better beforehand." Y/N teased her boyfriend and grinned.

"Eat me."

"Again?" Y/N asked teasingly. "And what about me? That wouldn't be fair, right?"

Dean stared at her and shook his head slightly before sitting up. "I need a drink."

She watched him go over to the minibar and pour himself a whiskey. Y/N had to smile. If someone had told her two years ago that Dean was actually interested in her and would ask her out on a date, she would have said they were crazy. But after Chuck was gone, he seemed more excited about his life. It was like a huge load had been lifted from his shoulder and she was happy for him. Still, she hadn't seen herself coming as part of his life.

"Good. You do that and I'll take a cold shower."

She already pulled her top over her head before she disappeared into the bathroom and felt Dean's eyes on her. The fact that Dean desired her, no matter what the situation, filled her heart with warmth. No one before had ever made her feel like this.

She washed her hair and was about to wash her body when a large hand took the soap from her. Dean had followed her and she looked around in surprise. He quietly began washing his own body before proceeding to wash Y/N.

"What are you doing here?" she asked with a smile.

"Makin' it fair." was all he said and before Y/N could respond his hands were already on her body.

He started at her arms and worked his way up to her shoulders. Dean distributed the foam extensively over her whole body, but remained quite good. He lingered on her breasts a bit longer, building Y/N's anticipation, but he unabashedly let his hands wander further down to her stomach. His hands slid lower and lower, but before he got to her mound, he got down on one knee and washed her feet and calves. Now Y/N was getting a little frustrated.

"So if that was your idea to make it fair then I have to say I didn't envision it that way."

As she spoke, Dean had already reached her thighs and grinned. "Why are you so impatient? Besides, I never said how I wanted to make up for it."

"I'm not..."

But she couldn't finish this sentence, because suddenly Dean's hand finally disappeared between her thighs and went to work there, too. He knew exactly what he was doing, because it wasn't long before Y/N let out a small moan.

Shortly thereafter, he grabbed the hand shower and washed the soap off their bodies again. "Everything clean again."

"I'm not sure about that." Y/N replied and snuggled up to Dean while she put her arms around his neck and ran his fingers through his wet hair.

Dean needed a moment until the hand shower was back in place and he ran his hands over her body. His mouth searched for hers and the kiss started out passionately. He rested his hands on her bottom and lightly massaged her cheeks before giving her a small slap. She gasped a little and Dean used that moment to deepen the kiss und search with his toung after hers.

Now Y/N also let her hands slide down his body and reached his already hard length, which happily pressed against her lower abdomen. But as soon as she started massaging him, he pulled back slightly from her grasp. Y/N looked at Dean a little confused, but he just smirked. Without another word, Dean dropped to his knees again and leaned Y/N against the wall behind her. It was immediately clear to her what he was up to and she had to moan again.

"Always so responsive. I didn't even do anything yet."

But Y/N couldn't answer that either, because he didn't give her any time. He parted her legs and rested his hands on her hips as he licked trough her folds with a flat tongue. The feeling sent goose bumps down Y/N's spine. She just loved how he made her feel. Dean feasted on her before lingering on her clit and massaging it. It didn't take long before he figured out how tight the pressure needed to be and what rhythm made Y/N practically sing. Dean kept working her up, but just before she climaxed, he released her clit and brought her tongue a little deeper, caressing her opening and penetrating a little. It wasn't quite as effective, but it still felt just as great.

He repeated this a few times. Y/N's legs began to tremble and she felt her strength drain. "Dean... please."

He laughed. "What, please? Say it, Y/N."

"Let me come. Please, I have to come."

"Anything my girl wants."

And then he got her over the edge so fast she almost thought she saw stars. Her moans were loud and obscene, but she didn't care.

"So beautiful." he fully admired Y/N and covered her face with small kisses.

His cock was so tense now that he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Y/N's head was spinning and she felt like her legs were going to give out. Dean noticed that too and lifted her up with a quick movement so that she could put her legs around his waist. Her arms found support around his neck again and he immediately let his cock slide through her wet folds. They kissed again and then in one smooth motion he sank deep into her heat.

"Oh god... always so full." she rasped and moaned in satisfaction.

"Don't worry. I got you." Dean said and began to move inside her.

It wasn't long before he picked up speed, making Y/N moan again. Dean bowed his head slightly and kept licking her nipples, which only turned her on more. The feelings intensified and Y/N felt like she was about to burst. She was so oversensitive by now, and yet it still wasn't enough. She felt her next climax approaching and was now chasing after it.

She tried to move with Dean as best as possible. He noticed this and shifted her position a bit to make it easier for her. But in doing so, he thrust even deeper into her, reaching that one painfully sweet spot.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that. Keep pushing against me." Dean growld and his movements became hard and fast.

"Oh god... I... I can't! It`s... to much!"

"Yes, you can, baby! Come on. Give me your all."

And Dean was right. All she could hear was their moans and how skin met skin. And then she exploded. Y/N came so hard that she didn't know where up and down was for a moment. A few pushs later, Dean came hard and deep inside her. Their breaths mingled and they had to hold each other for a few moments.

When both had arrived back in the here and now, Dean carefully lowered Y/N, but still held her until her legs carried her again. They kissed slowly and gently and then Dean turned the water back on to wash her off.

"Now that's what I call a success."

"Showoff!" laughed Y/N.

As soon as they were clean again, they dried themselves off and put on fresh clothes. But before they left the bathroom, Dean held Y/n back for a moment. She looked at him questioningly as he pulled her into his arms.

"I love you." he said with a small smile.

"I love you too." Y/N replied and beamed at Dean.

They kissed again and then left the bathroom. But as soon as they were outside, they heard the wind whistling through the room.

"What..." Dean rushed to the balcony and looked out.

Shortly thereafter, the first thunder rumbled and it began to rain. The temperature in the room had also changed and the cool, fresh wind brought a noticeable cooling effect.

"Now, that is almost as good as our shower session." Dean beamed at her and Y/N just had to smile. She has never been so happy.

[galacticseonghwa]

shotgun - Seo Changbin

INCLUDES: frat!Changbin X fem!reader, suggestive content, smoking, shotgunning [sharing a kiss while exchanging smoke], if I missed any other warning pls lmk

wc: 400

a/n: yet to be proofread

MINORS DNI

you were at a big party that chan happened to be throwing just for the sake of it. but you weren't feeling it, so you decided to stay out on the balcony in his room.

you look up towards the stars as the regret of actually turning up to a party you didn't want to go to in the first place sets in, you let a deep breath.

"not much of a party person, huh?" a familiar deep voice speaks from behind you, giving you the slightest fright.

you look to where the voice had come from and your eyes meet changbin standing behind you in his infamous, black skinny jeans, black shirt that almost seemed uncomfortably tight and a silver cuban link chain.

"clearly." you almost scoff but chose to mumble instead as you stood up from the railing of the balcony to face him properly.

you then notice the cigar he was smoking. you had always wondered what a cigar tasted like let alone smelt like.

changbin noticed your curious gaze that was locked on the cigar that was placed in his right hand. "c'mere" he smirked towards you as you instantly obeyed his words.

he used his free hand to grip your hip and pull you closer towards him. "close your eyes." it was almost a whisper as his eyes raked over your face.

without a second thought, you closed your eyes and awaited for what ever changbin was about to do.

changbin kept his eyes on you as he took a drag from his cigar.

he then leaned forward and pressed his soft lips against yours in a slow and deep kiss. in all honesty it was also a rough kiss, almost as if he was scared you would disappear if he didn't kiss you properly.

but nevertheless, you weren't complaining. you had liked changbin since you had first started uni almost three years ago.

you feel butterflies in your stomach as he pulls away from your lips, his left hand still on your hip as he brushed his thumb gently over the shirt you were wearing.

he smirks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "now exhale." he urges you.

your eyes widen as you watch smoke leave your lips after listening to changbin's order. changbin continued to watch you with a smirk on his lips.

changbin leaned into you again, pulling your body closer with both his hands after putting out the cigar in the ashtray next to you on the balcony.

his lips ghost over yours before saying. "mm, that's my girl."

in a second he pulled you into another deep kiss, this time around it felt needy. changin's hands moved all around your body. up your back, around your waist, up and down your sides, and finally down to your ass where he keeps them.

kneading your jean-covered flesh he pulls away from your lips. his eyes tainted with lust and love.

"want you, wanted you for the longest time, want you to be mine and only mine." he ushers out as his lips trail down from your jaw to the skin where your neck and collarbone meet.

[fareehaandspaniards]

Oh so your baby squid hunter got a happy end too?? 🥺 Could you share more details?

Yes! To make a long story short, it's a Modern AU, but with a link to the past. I didn't think the idea through in detail, just a couple of things and the basis of it.

When I completed my playthrough of the game, the ascension of our own hunter gave me a great hope, for this is essentially the beginning of a new life for Yharnam as well, which they will now protect!

My idea was that a hunter (in my case, my Guillermo) has had his heart broken by the story of Old hunters, so as the Great One, he watches the passage of time - as Yharnam empties out completely, becomes a dead city, and then people - foreigners, settlers, and others - return there. Our new Great One simply watches the natural course of events, with only a little influence on people's fates to prevent something like previous Yharnam tragedy from happening. Eventually, most references to the Great Ones disappear from Yharnam again, knowledge of the Blood and Eyes is lost, and normal life begins again. Laurence's theory of healing Blood is preserved in passages of his manuscripts, so in part people use it in medicine, but it becomes something commonplace rather than innovative. The new generation doesn't know about insight.

And eventually, after so 400-500 years, Yharnam becomes more or less a modern city similar to our reality. (Modern world + ancient beliefs + old medicine)

In our hunter's soul there is still sorrow for the past times and for the people who died. The souls of many of them have remained untamed and have found no rest, and the New Great One decides, as it was in your post, to give them a second chance! The souls of hunters, scientists are reborn in the new reality, the only difference is that most of those who were separated by years - now exist in the same time and have a small difference in age, about 10 years or so (for example, Edgar in my interpretation was 26 when he died in a Nightmare of Mensis, Micolash was 43, and Damian was 55. In the new version, Edgar could be 18 y.o., Micolash - 24, and Damian - 29 y.o.)

Guillermo himself also takes on the guise of a human being to observe the new lives of his charges, who take on roles in their new lives that are similar to their past! And many hobbies they have retained even after death lol

But because people are incorrigible, something strange starts to happen again, because they are all in one way or another drawn to the forbidden, the secret, and even delighted when they find references to themselves in the past (only they don't know it's themselves)

The task of our Great One, however, is to prevent a new apocalypse from happening, but to do it as a human being - affecting them spiritually and physically.

This is my seedling! And a couple ideas for this AU:

Micolash is a DnD fan, this I know absolutely, though I've never done such a thing myself xD I even had a sketch of him with glasses and braces, I think he'd be a typical “nerd” that no one would take seriously at first until his creepy weirdness and calm attitude towards dismembered bodies is revealed… yeah… ahahaha…..

In this AU, it seems to me that Edgar could be his best friend and support, and they would both be consumed by the idea of unearthing the remains of an ancient civilization near Yharnam

Ludwig has a big Saint Bernard living with him:

And Logarius has this LOL:

(I really wanted to do a headcanon post on which character would get which pet, but Ludwig and Logarius' dogs are too firmly embedded in my head xDD They fit them xDD)

This AU has titles like Duke, Earl, etc., and Annalise would have been born into a wealthy ducal family, but would have found herself in university with the rest of the characters.

Logarius is a religious fanatic and a member of a blood cult. These are just facts, but I haven't thought about them yet.

Tomb Prospectors, Old Hunters - basically most of them become students at the new university in new Yarnam! But the ones like Damian, Valtr, Ludwig, Willem, for example, are still older than the rest. And Damian is still trying to patronize Micolash and keep him from getting hooked on drugs.

Gremia is a local criminal and hooligan who asks to help Damian with his studies and learn manners from him (I made up a whole romantic story there xd)

Laurence and Rom will definitely get married in this AU

Caryll can walk! Since there was no injection of the Great Ones' blood for him, he has very poor health, but is not limited in movement. And he would most likely be the lever that would have been the one out of everyone reaching for the Great Ones again. He's an empath and would have been led by the voices straight to the Hunter-Great One

Anything else is hard to remember! Honestly, I've left this idea in the “closet”. If it's to be taken seriously, it'll have to be done later and paired with someone else.

AND I forgot to mention that everything will end fine! They all will find peace, happy life (In their special ways) and say sorry to each other.

[beanyboobee]

I offer you all- another monkie kid au of mine.

This one is angsty though, so I warn you all.

This is also a SpicyNoodle au so if you don't ship it- please be respectful.

Immortal Mk au.

In this au, Mk gains immorality as he unlocks more of the monkey king powers. However. Immortality is not as good as it seems.

He has to start coming to terms with the fact that his friends will continue to age but he never will. He tries to stick around for as long as possiable. To try and spend as much time with his friends as he can.

But after Pigsy and Tang grow old and pass on. Mk realises he cannot do this anymore, and decides to part ways from Mei and Sandy before he has to watch them die too.

During all this, Redson tries his best to be there for Mk. Being one of the only other beings Mk knows with a rather long life span. But Mk finds himself Slipping down a self destructive spiral, and so pushes himself away from Red, in fear that he will eaither hurt Red, or that Red will see a side to him that he really does not want Red to see.

And so Mk leaves for 200 years of training.

While that is happening. Red stays with Mei and Sandy, because over the few years they had together. They had become good friends. Before Mei passes on however she passes the samadi fire back to Redson, believing that since the power was rightfully his that it should go back to the owner, because who knows what demons may come looking for her body if they knew the samadi fire was still within it.

When news of mei's passing reaches Mk, he goes on a rampage of sorts the amount of power he has clouding his ability to control it. And his grief driving him mad, as his still has not come to terms with not aging yet. And now that he has really lost most of the people that he holds dear to him. The grief and anger set in.

During this period he gains a name for himself within demon circles as someone you should not mess with.

Red struggles with mks disappearance alott, due to the feelings he had grown fir the mortal over the years, he didn't know what to do when suddenly pushed away.

Meanwhile Redson is off learning how to properly control the samadi fire once again, now that all of it is back within him.

During all this Wukong is filled with worry and guilt, guilt that he gave the kid this power and never fully explained to him that it could possibly mean immorality. He rarely sees Mk during Mks grief period eaither. Which only adds to the monkey kings worry.

This Is when we flash forward 400 years later. Where Redson is aiding some lower class demons (because being around those mortals made his morals soft) when low and behold, he runs into Mk on accident.

Time seems to freeze for them. But Mk, changed by time is no longer the same person Redson once knew.

He isn't completely differant. But he isn't wholely the same eaither.

[nityarawal]

10/5/2023

Morning Songs

Dia's Song

Sitting In The Woods

Once Again

Wondering Where To Turn

Thinkin' Of Our Moms

And Foul Play Done

Billionaire Heiress

Lydia Abrams

Disappeared

Now A Probate

Money Tied Up

By Court Fraud

Her Son Just Wants

Closure

Confirm

X- Sheriff Keith 

Harper Murdered 

His Mom

Dia And Her

Caretaker Jodi

I Called On Ad

To The Caretaking Ranch

Job

I Called On An Ad

And Spoke To Keith

Harper

For Bautista Ranch

Up Apple Canyon 

Hurkey Creek

Didn't Take The Job

Won't Go Out

And Investigate

A Already Solved

Case

He Already Murdered

My Bunky Jodi

And Dia Abrams

Why Does Becky Clark

Advertise A Murderer

Confirmed Sex Offender

She Offered Me $15

Dollars An Article

Before Idyology

Caged Me

And Pushes Academy

Moms On Pleas

Was The Advertising

Money

Worth It

For A Registered

Sex Offender

$15 Like An Article

To Buy Another

Murdered Caretaker

Why Would You

Do A Story

On Man

Who Murdered Two Moms

Not Get To The Bottom

Of It

Or Tie Up Loose

Ends

For Academy Graduates

Journalists

We Alerted The

Help Center

About Keith Harper's

Ad in Idyllwild Town Crier

For Another Caretaker

Sounds Like 

Another Journalist

Grad

From Idyllwild Arts

In Latest Video

From Jodi

Touring Bautista

Wedding

Airbnb Site

Garner Valley

Was Almost Sold

Out

Again

Take Down Your Ad

For Sex Offenders

Victims

Witch Hunting Mommies

For Proud Boys

Take Down Your Ad

We Work For Dia

Restraining Orders

For Sex Offenders

From Her Ranches

Not The X Sheriff

Or Officers That Need

To Be Fired

Raiding For Billions

We Work With

Dia

San Diego Probates

PNC Bank

BBVA Before Them

Wells Fargo

San Diego Credit

Unions

Fidelity

Refund Billions

Times To Thee

Mary Schmitz

Admitted Airbnb

Fraud

Murder

Management

400 Victims

In Idyllwild

Mountain Center

Pine Cove

Wrongfully Evicted

Idyllwild Realty

Wrongful Deaths

Sergeant Protero 

Pretends To Investigate

Lipstick On

With A Harem

Of Hitmen

Fraudulent Officers

Ignorant Of Laws

Raping Mommies

Away

Not One Good Probate

Judge

Not One Officer

Knows The Law

Diplomacy

5 W's

Citizen Journalists

So Charge

Harper And His

Accomplices

Sheriff Bianco

Enoch

With Fraud

DA

You Can't "OJ Murder"

Another Mom

On Cons

My Sisters

2nd Bunky

Witnessed Foul Play

Paris Hilton Whistle 

Blew

#FreeBritney And I

Don't Take Another

Heiress

For A Job

Our Taxes Won't

Cover

In-House

Murders

Domestic Terrorism 

Don't Take Another 

Heiress

Give 300k  Finders

Fee To #Nitya4Eternity

To Me

Starving Journalist

In Need

Needy

Who Tweeted

Until Elon

Joined Me 

On "X"

Just A Humble

Journalist

Nobody

Jealous

Of Merlin

Mommy

Nobody Jealous

Of Merlin Mommy

Give Us Back Our

Kids

Give Us Back X

You Can't Give Us

Back

6 Years

With King Kyan

Or Princess Anjali

Nor All The Oil

Stolen

For Iranian Women

Lives Matter

Now

And Always

All The Oil Stolen

In WW3 Bribes

Give It Back

To The Prople

But The Power

Is Now

And You Can't

Do That

Give It Back

Give It Back

Rewind Pendant

YouTube And

Watch That

Stole Our Time

On Apple Cons

Techy Bribes

Selling Starter Wives

Give It Back

Give Back My Beach

Home

Your Black Mary

With Her Pierced

Nose

Conned To Work For

CPS

Senator

Probate Judge Jackson

Candace Owen's Pod

Bribed My Mothers

Heads

On The Black Market

For Politicians

Send Back Your

Dancing Gigolos

To London

Jodi Was Flustered

As Keith

Tried To Burn

Through 

The Hoes

Enough

Peace

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[bluemoonfantasiesiii]

Vincent was already far from the house of their host to keep his promise to check on the family of the boss, and it seemed they were all fine alongside the two years old baby. The man and his wife thanked him with appreciation for his care while asking for nothing in return as usual.

---

Lily was playing with the fluffy beast that was rolling on the grass that welcomed their hands and hugs as it made a silly sounds seemingly enjoying the attention it receives from both of them.

---

The blue tattoo-like bracelet around Nigredo's wrist suddenly stared to glow at the uncomfortable emotions going through the owner's body, producing a sphere-like shield of Hydro to protect Nigredo from any harm that was holding him at that moment.

Rubedo suddenly got an idea while playing with the sumpter beasts and shapeshifted into a calf to chase another one around in a circle. Fortunately, the Forest Rangers watching them had been informed beforehand of Rubedo’s abilities, so they were prepared for it and simply laughed at the adorable sight.

———

Wanderer dragged Nigredo to a secluded area behind a large tree and shoved the gardener against the trunk, whipping his head around to make sure no one was listening.

“How the hell do you know about the Balladeer?” he demanded.

“Why does it seem like I’m not supposed to?” Nigredo asked, eyes squinting in suspicion. “What did you do?”

Wanderer took one more glance around, just to be sure they were alone.

“What do you know of Irminsul?”

“It’s a tree hidden deep within Sumeru that contains all the knowledge of Teyvat.”

“And what do you think happens when information is erased from it?”

Nigredo’s eyes widened as he instantly caught on. “You erased yourself from Irminsul…? Why?”

Wanderer sighed. “…To save you the full story, I found out that all the atrocities I committed as Scaramouche were based on a lie I was fed by The Doctor 400 years ago. In a moment of utter despair, I thought I could undo all of it by erasing my existence from this world.

But as it turns out, only information can be altered. Everything that’s already happened in the past can’t be changed. All of my crimes still happened, they’re just attributed to other people now, and rather than disappearing like I wanted to, I still existed as a nameless wanderer with no memories.

The Dendro Archon had kept a backup of my memories in the form of a fairy tale that was just vague enough that Irminsul didn’t think to change it after I deleted my names and titles, and she returned them to me at my request.”

Wanderer glared Nigredo. “Now answer my question, Blondie. How do you remember who I was?”

“To save you the full story, I’m a homunculus created by an arrogant alchemist whose research brought her beyond the boundaries of this world before the disaster that destroyed our homeland 500 years ago. As such, I’m not bound to its laws.”

Wanderer’s eyes widened, finally seeming to notice the shape of Nigredo’s pupils. “You’re Khaenri’ahn…”

Nigredo nodded.

“Your brother… The Knight of Favonius…” Wanderer said. “Why doesn’t he seem to remember me?”

“I can only assume that the rifts our creator made were closed by the Heavenly Principles when they destroyed Khaenri’ah. Albedo was created after that. He is a being of Teyvat through and through.”

Wanderer studied Nigredo carefully for any signs of dishonesty. Finding none, he finally backed off, crossing his arms again. “Fine. Tit for tat. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. I’m genuinely not looking to cause trouble anymore. At least, not at the scale I did as The Balladeer. I have no intention of ever returning to the Fatui.”

“Deal,” Nigredo said. “Let’s head back before those other two start to suspect something.”

[buginateacup]

1, 16, 29 for the ao3 wrapped

@whovianhalfblood thank you for the ask!

How many words have you written this year?

Okay so I had to check AO3 for this and it's telling me 719,233 which seems a bit off because its counting ALL of Rings and Tea with Topsy which is not right so taking most of Rings and 200K of Topsy and add on all the WIP stuff this year I'm going to say around 400-450,000 words ish? Which is frankly absurd now I look at it.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Once again we turn to AO3 and it's....Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot. Ahahahaha! I''m actually quite delighted by that. Clearly I still need to get disguise watch shenanigans to be more of a thing so ao3 can make it an official tag for me.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oooh there were a few but Ricochet, Recoil, Rebound definitely takes the cake for the one I go back to again and again, specifically this scene here where Megamind and Roxanne, in the middle of slowly and teasingly undressing for some no strings attached, for fun and science sex get distracted and have a pillowfight:

"Gyah!" She wriggled and kicked and flung a pillow that went sailing over his head, one corner grazing his foot as it fell off the end of the bed.

Megamind looked up with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Oho, so it's going to be like that is it?"

He snatched up the bolster discarded to one side of the bed and held in front of him, "En garde!"

"Allez!" Roxanne twisted and swung a pillow at his face. He batted it away with the bolster and bopped her lightly on the shoulder "No no no! It's en garde, prets? Allez! Really Miss Ritchi haven't you ever fenced before?"

"Nope!" She laughed, aiming for his ribs, "Haven't you ever had a pillow fight before?"

"I never even had a pillow!" He retorted lightly, brandishing his bolster as they flung bedding back and forth at one another.

"What?" Roxanne's next attack faltered in mid air and Megamind caught her full in the face with another pillow, "Seriously?"

"Classic mistake!" Terror flashed on Megamind's face then disappeared under a mask of triumph, "Falling for the villain's misdirection, oh how the mighty have been brought low!Victory is finally mi- Pleh!" The decorative cushion nailed him right between the eyes and fell away to reveal a half naked Roxanne crouched by the headboard, "Got caught monologuing," She smirked.

"Defeated in my moment of triumph!" He threw himself down dramatically and Roxanne sprawled on top of him with a bright laugh, "You haven't seen the last of me!"

They're just so happy and having so much fun together it was my favourite part of that entire fic.

[copperbora]

This is my two year old baby boy Keplar, aka the mortal enemy of my marine nano aquarium Purrling Reef.

A few weeks ago I had to put fortifications around the tank because he kept attempting to hunt my Ocellaris clownfish Moby and Purrling's other inhabitants as well.

I love Keplar dearly but he also recently decided that my emergancy airline's airstone did not actually 'need' to actually be in the water. The problem is, Keplar happens to have ferociously sharp claws, which I am very well acquainted with personally thanks to the fact that he loves rearing up against my leg when he is hungry to get my attention as well as recently, hopping up on my shoulder. So, this morning I discovered that he had finally poked enough holes in the airline that not enough air was making it to the airstone in the water anymore.

Why is this important, you ask? Because should the power go out - which it does reasonably frequently here although mercifully usually only for a few hours - the regular injection of air bubbles into the water from the air stone will keep my water oxygenated, therefore keeping Purrling's beloved (and expensive) marine inhabitants alive.

(And what do I mean by expensive? Oh ho - saltwater fish are not your $5 Betta splendens or cheap $2 zebra danio of yore - my baby clownfish cost me $24 - which is cheap for a marine fish. His neighbour yellow watchman goby Clyde cost $40, and I expect my future royal gramma basslet to cost between $80-$100. I'm lucky because the fish that I can get for my little tank are actually relatively inexpensive. It's not uncommon for reef fish to cost $100-$400+ a pop.)

Lieutenant Skitter the blue eyed hermit crab was a fortunate nab: my livestock dealer gave him to me for free because he felt bad that I had driven an hour to see him and he didn't have any of the fish that I wanted in stock.

So, first thing's first: I attempted to repair the airline with black electrical tape which is both waterproof and reasonably Keplar-proof.

Unfortunately, the tube was too far gone, so I had to replace the whole thing. I armoured this in electrical tape too.

Success!

Another thing I did as an anti-Keplar measure is let the back and sides of my tank become absolutely covered in beautiful algae. The algae naturally blocks Keplar from looking in and the fish from looking out so that they only have to deal with my snuggly feline demon from one angle. (I do plan on wrapping these sides with dark construction paper in the future because the algae may disappear once I add corals and the algae no longer has those nutrients to munch on.)

While Moby and Clyde are scared of Keplar, my newest addition yellow-tailed damselfish Jewel doesn't mind him and happily watches him back. In fact, she seems less afraid of Keplar than she is of me! I hope that Moby and Clyde will learn from her brave example. A lot of people despise damselfish because a lot of them can be jerks (fun fact: clownfish are also damselfish,) but marine fish breeder ORA swears that Jewel's species is mellow. So far, ORA is right and Jewel is doing an awesome job of doing what I bought her for - being a 'dither' fish. Dither fish are fish whose confident swimming inspires calm in more nervous ones, like Moby, who I swear was getting depressed before I introduced her. Now he's eating again and swimming more readily around the aquarium!

Hopefully Jewel won't harass the royal gramma (to be named Amphritite) when I get it; I plan on buying a little pen to secure Jewel while I introduce Amphi. I doubt that Jewel will pose any issue with the introduction of Moby's future mate, Cousteau, as Cousteau should flock straight to Moby. Eventually (soon, hopefully,) I will supply Moby and Cousteau with at least a couple of LPS coral from the genus Euphillia - hammers and frogspawns, specifically. Torch corals are nastily aggressive to other corals and need lots of space so I won't be adopting any (they are horrendously expensive anyway.) Hammers and frogspawns also need space but I factored that into the design of my aquascape with a seperate little island for them.

Marine aquarium keeping is a really fun and complex learning curve; there's so much that I am still learning and perfecting! (Like temperature; I thought that I had that figured, but I don't yet. I honestly think that I need a higher wattage heater because the one I have doesn't seem to be maintaining temps well enough. I accidentally left the floor fan beside the aquarium on last night and my water temps plunged from 25°C to 18.3°C. Fortunately my temperature controller's alarm went off and I was able to quickly turn off the fan!)

I'm enjoying this very slow adventure. Every new livestock addition makes my tank so much more interesting and I can't wait to see how Purrling Reef will look a year from now!

[translationandbetrayals]

On weird (and annoying) tropes

Let's talk about some tropes in the anime and manga industry.

Sheesh, even though anime can be real fun, a lot of Japan animators or mangakas are such weirdos aren't they? It's almost like they live in another dimension, firstly because of the cultural differences (being them on the other side of the globe and all) but also because of their own distorted perception of the world around them. Today I'll focus on one aspect in particular, "weird tropes", for one reason in particular.... the audience likes them and I find it creepy xD.

Of course covering them all in just one post seems impossible so I'll just focus on two that are the most common.

First off... Let's tackle tsunderes. Like, seriously? It's not like you like the MC but you're gonna hit him (or her) or insult him just because he said something you didn't like or they hang around with someone other than yourself? The deal with this kind of character is not their existence, you see, if a show comes and manages their tsunderes to make actual plot points and maybe tell a story that touches delicate subjects like, I dunno, insecurities, family problems and relationship violence it would actually be alright, it serves the purpose of the story, it's telling something. But when their existence solely serves the purpose of filling the checkboxes to making a "comedy" anime or a romance one, it gets terrible results. Almost every show that falls in these categories has a tsundere. Yelling, hitting and making the "uh-oh, you entered the room and I was half naked" joke (joke that has to die once and for all pleaaase). What's the point? Does it actually fulfill fantasies of people? "I like that girl, she treats me bad, but maybe she is just a tsundere in real life" Dude c'mon, eeeeeven if that, for some big old miracle from the heavens it's actually true, you. Are. Allowing. Violence. That ain't cute, that ain't good.  In short, tsunderes need either a makeover or completely disappear, tropes get old with time. Moreover, if we look at anime like a medium that more andore kids have access to, it gets worse. We're teaching them that that's supposed to be cute, that that's an actual startegy to interact with people. It's gotta stop. 

Well, now let's get to real business, because even though I find tsunderes annoying, they can't compare to actual liking felony material.....Let's discuss lolis. 

Where do I even begin? Calling the police because you're acting suspicious if you actually enjoy when animes oversexualize minors? Trying to read your Google history just to make sure this isn't escalating? It's just a show I know. An animated show even, but there are doors that should remain closed even for shows, at least when, again, they are not trying to actually tell a traumatic story of how this little girl or boy gets abused. She's 400 years old? Dude that's just an argument to stop looking at the real problem: they look like little girls and boys. What you are liking and watching is WRONG, no other way around it. Should little boys and girls be erased from anime? Of course not, there are plenty of awesome stories that run around the friendships or paternal bonds, or they are just silly comedy shows with toddlers. I'll he the first to put up examples, I loved barakamon. One of the main characters is a little girl, that's it, she does little girl stuff and annoys the adults. Period. The problem is when is managed poorly and in a perverted way. It's good to note that this isn't a problem exclusive to kids, I'm also pinpointing ecchi anime that focuses on middle or high schoolers. Why In hell would you draw them in school uniforms and say they are 15 to then take of their clothes and pretend it's hot? They. Are. *Still*. Kids. C'mon. Addressing this is important because one common argument is " I only watched this when I was at school" or "I don't watch it because of that, i watch it for the plot" Okay, you know what? I buy ya. But damn there are a ton of freaks that do watch it for the wrong reasons, you only have to go through reddit for a few hours. Sexualizing minors is wrong, and it doesn't matter that is "another" culture,  globalization is closing gaps, more people have access to that content and we gotta focus on our ethics. Let's not support pedophiles please. Thank you.

Nikolas Naranjo, CFG Translations and betrayals.

[just-kuvira-things]

[katsukisblackteddy]

The Warrior Queen & Her Pharaoh: Part I

Part I: In the Beginning

In honor of Black History Month (that’s coming up), and because I’m a nerd for mythology of any type, I thought it would be fun to write about one of my favorite time periods, Ancient Egypt. 

We didn’t really get to spend much time on them in school, and I love learning about these powerful Egyptian gods, goddess, pharaohs, and queens. 

So N E ways...ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS...um WTF ILY <3

I TOOK SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES (all characters are 18+ in this)

Pairings: pharaoh!god! Bakugou x warrior!princess! Reader Warnings: cursing, disrespectful people, bad bitch Mitsuki Description: Before the new pharaoh can be officially crowned, he must wed. You, the queen of a large warrior tribe called, The Zodos Tribe, are in the same position...the only problem? The future pharaoh is a bit of an ass.

*Extra info: this is written in third person so even though this is a reader insert, I’ll be writing it as if you’re another character so basically no me/my*

and yes, I’m aware it is kinda short and Bakugou isn’t in it that much, but it’s to set the scene lol...I promise there will be a lot of Bakubitch content in the next part

**Tag List is at the bottom**

𓂀 PART I  𓂀 PART II 𓂀 

The arid air and blazing sun didn’t make for the most comfortable environments, and yet many people called the desert home. 

In a secluded river valley lived the Zodos Tribe, the most fearsome warriors throughout the land, known for their brutality and unmatched strength. Though to (y/n), they were her family and her people. 

Princess (y/n), the eldest of seven children, sat in the ornate palace that overlooked the main river. She had recently been crowned the queen of her people after her father chose to abdicate the throne. Her attendants sat around her while others waved large palm leaves, blowing the dry air in an attempt to make it cooler. 

“(y/n), ready your belongings! You are to depart with your father within the hour.” The 18 year old turned seeing her mother’s slim form approach her. 

Eshe was the personification of grace, similar to her only daughter, though she was taller. Her smooth dark skin glittered in the sunlight and her golden eyes searched her daughter’s face for any signs of backtalk before a content look crossed her face when (y/n) simply sighed and nodded. 

“We readied her belongings already, Queen Mother.” (y/n)’s attendant, Subira, answered as she bowed upon her entrance to the room. 

“Very well.” Eshe nodded, her snake like eyes shifting from her daughter and her servants to the landscape. “Go ready yourself. You are to meet royalty, Girl.”

“I am royalty, Mother.” (y/n)’s tone was laced with boredom as she stood from her seat. “What’s so special about these royals I am to meet, anyways?”

“That is not my place to tell.” She replied before pushing her daughter towards her room and into the large bathroom. The cool stone rubbed against her warm skin as (y/n)’s attendants unrobed her and bathed her while two others released her hair.

Some time later, the teen was redressed and her hair had been braided again, this time with decorative gold beads and thread woven into her thick dark hair. She had been dressed into a white sleeveless sheath dress, over that a sheer white and gold kalasiri tied in place with a gold and intricately beaded sash. A wide beaded collar was secured around her neck, brightly colored stones and metals woven and set into the necklace.

(y/n) slid on a new pair of reed sandals after Subira had finished her makeup, the dramatic black liner around her almond shaped eyes made the golden hue that she had inherited from her mother shine in the light. “Let us depart.” (y/n) motioned to her ladies as they nodded, following after her as the teenage queen adjusted the heavy silver and gold bracelets around her wrists.

“You look like a true queen, (y/n).” Her mother said as (y/n) walked past the room she had once been in. 

“Thank you Mother. I will be off now.” (y/n) called back, not waiting for a response before walking out of the palace and towards her royal chariot where her father stood talking to one of the servants.

“Prepare the chariots.” Her father’s deep voice commanded as the servants nodded running off to get the large chariots ready for the journey. (y/n)’s father turned to look at her, his dark brown eyes looking her over once before smiling. “You look beautiful, Daughter.”

“Thank you, Father.” (y/n) smiled back as the servants ran back over stating that the chariots were ready to go.

(y/n) didn’t ask many questions of her father, mainly because she didn’t really care where they were going, though butterflies seemed to fill her stomach when the large palace in the capital city came into view as they crossed over another dune.

“Your mother asked me to remind you of your manners and your station before we left.” (y/n)’s father told her, as the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Her father chuckled at her reaction before the pair stepped off of their chariots and were met by royal attendants from the palace.

“King Nafi, Princess (y/n), please follow me to the throne room. The Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife, are eager to converse.” 

“I am a-” (y/n) didn’t finish her sentence, feeling her father’s strong hand come down on her shoulder before he stepped forward and followed the attendant up the stairs and inside the large palace, leaving (y/n) to catch up.

“Stupid man. I’m a queen.” (y/n) mumbled to herself as she followed the men into the throne room. 

The teen stood beside her father, her eyes gazing over the two royal figures in front of her. One was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. A woman sat beside him, her hair ash blonde and her eyes a crimson color. They were both dressed lavishly as the woman sighed, mumbling something to her husband, before offering a smile to (y/n).

“I am sorry. My son seems to be unable to be found.” She told the girl who simply nodded before giving her father a look.

“(y/n), why don’t you walk the grounds? I have business to attend to with the Pharaoh and Great Royal Wife.” (y/n)’s father brushed her off, shooting her a look before practically pushing the girl towards the door.

“He doesn’t even have any power anymore! How dare he treat me like this. Why the hell did I even come if I’m not sitting in on the business? This is so stu-” (y/n) ranted to herself, not realizing where she was walking before she bumped into something...more like someone.

“Watch where you’re going, Extra!” The boy’s gruff voice said, his tone laced with venom as his red eyes glared down at where she sat after being knocked over.

“Oh get off your high horse! You can’t talk to me that way! I’m a Queen!” Her eyes finally landed on the boy’s face, his ash blonde hair wild and spiky as his crimson eyes seemed to darken and narrow. 

He didn’t wear full linens, only enough to cover his lower half, leaving his chest exposed. His skin was tanned from spending most of his time in the sun and a thin shine of sweat covered his muscles as if he had just been doing some type of physical activity before they had bumped into each other.

“Well here you aren’t.” The boy told her before scoffing and walking off down a corridor, not even bothering to help (y/n) up.

“Sorry. It was nice to meet you though.” A spiky redhead said with a small closed-mouth smile. He had been following the rude blonde along with another blonde male, a dark haired male, a pink skinned girl, and a dark haired girl. 

The group of teens were about to say something else to the girl when the explosive blonde from earlier could be heard yelling, “Kirishima, I didn’t allow you to socialize!”

“Uh r-right. Bye!” The red haired boy said before they all disappeared down the expansive hall.

“What a jerk.” (y/n) scoffed thinking back to the ash blonde. Getting up and dusting her hands off, she continued to walk around the halls.

The black girl returned back to the throne room after some time, having gotten lost though she was too proud to ask for help from one of the many servants scurrying around.

“Ah, you’ve arrived just in time for dinner, (y/n).” The blonde woman spoke, gesturing towards a large open room that overlooked the river, a large table filled with food sat in the middle.

“I apologize.” (y/n) said simply before taking a seat where the blonde woman had gestured, unfortunately across from that annoying boy from earlier. “Where is my father? My servants?” (y/n) wondered after a moment of silence, noticing that the people in question were missing.

“They’ve left some time ago.” She answered. “This is your new home after all.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) and the blonde boy had the same reaction, choking on their food with wide eyes.

“Yes, your father never told you of the agreement?” The brown haired man asked.

“Agreement?” She repeated.

“Yes, you are to marry our son in two days time. It’s been arranged since before you both wore garments.” The blonde woman said with a small laugh.

(Fun fact: Ancient Egyptian children didn’t wear clothes until they were six years old, so they ran around naked except for the jewelry they wore)

“Him?”

“Her?”

“Show some respect to her Katsuki! She is to be your wife!” The woman said, slapping the boy’s head quickly causing (y/n) to smirk and laugh lightly.

Katsuki didn’t like that very much, glaring at the golden eyed girl with a low growl.

“Mitsuki, Katsuki...” The man started to say softly, flashing at smile at (y/n).

“You’re right Masaru. If only our son wasn’t such a brat.” Mitsuki sighed, slapping Katsuki again before going back to her food.

“I am the Pharaoh, you can’t treat me that way!” Katsuki protested, angrily cutting his meat.

“What was that?” Mitsuki questioned, her red eyes narrowing as she shot a warning look at her son. 

“Nothing.” Katsuki mumbled, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the black girl across from him.

What a dick. What did my parents get me into? (y/n) thought to herself as she stared back at the boy across from her.

Tag List: (Let me know if y’all wanna be added. Just send me a message)

@bakugous-mamas​ 

TAGS:

[wherethewordsare]

Sweater Weather- Mutual Pining for Jay’s 400 Follower Bingo!!

He’d found it after a movie night, draped over the back of the couch. He held it up to confirm and yep. There was no mistaking the hood and the bulky black sleeves. It looked like it may have gone through the dryer about twelve times too many and the zipper pull was barely hanging on. He let his thumb rub against the hem of the sleeve, shaking his head. Jaskier tucked the hoodie under his arm as he pulled out his phone, smiling to himself. 

geralt

u left ur hoodie

its cold and everything how do u forget that

ur worse than ciri smh 

Just hold onto it, I’ll grab it next time. 

And I am not worse than Ciri. I’m not the one who’s left his phone in the Denny’s bathroom at 2am…. Twice…

Last month. 

shhhhh :P

Throwing his phone down, Jaskier went to his closet. He was going to just hang up the hoodie and Geralt would get it eventually. Honestly, he was going to put it away. But then he pressed his face into the shoulder and sighed.  

This was wrong. He should just hang it up and return it when they saw each other again. He wasn’t about to let this silly little infatuation with Geralt ruin a perfectly good friendship. Especially not over a stupid hoodie.

Unfortunately, Jaskier's self restraint had taken the night off. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier was sliding his arms in, zipping up the front and crawling into bed. One night of indulging wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Even if it felt like his chest was splitting open. He shifted a little under the covers, burying his nose into the collar as he drifted off to sleep. They had been through so much together since they met in high school, wasn’t Jaskier allowed this one little thing, just this once?

-o-O-o-

i still have ur hoodie

u want it back cause we could like meet up for coffee 

we could go to the nag :) 

He snapped a picture of the hoodie and a travel mug in his passenger seat, sending it off. 

Can’t today. :(

Parent teacher meetings and then Dad wants us to help him fix the roof.

I could use my hoodie today, it’s cold… 

omgl finally

thought id have to do it

Jask… no. 

:/ fine then

see if i try to be helpful again

jk jk

dont die

I dont wanna do handywork :3 

Geralt had been right. It was cold, and Jaskier had forgotten his own jacket at home. He frowned down at the hoodie and sighed. It was only because it was chilly. Nothing else. He tried to ignore how it still smelled so strongly of Geralt. He walked around the gallery wrapped in Geralt’s hoodie, the front unzipped and his hands buried in the sleeves. 

-o-O-o-

hehe crispy leaf time

the cold is coming 

Yes, Jaskier. That’s how seasons work

u know what that means~

Geralt did not in fact, know what that meant but he soon found out. He was in the middle of typing when a picture came up with the caption “stolen hoodie weather :3” with Jaskier curled up on his couch at home, snuggled up in the black zip up hoodie Geralt only remembered leaving there early last Spring. 

Something in his stomach flipped and he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Why? Why would it matter if someone saw him? It was just Jaskier.

He frowned and started typing again. He stopped and erased it, fighting down the small smile that was starting to tilt the corners of his mouth. 

You kept it?

Way to go, Geralt. That was really fucking smooth. What was he supposed to mean by that?

unlike u :(((

abandoner of hoodies

some of us appreciate the gift of comfort geralt

Geralt felt like his brain was melting. That thing in his stomach seemed to purr with satisfaction at the idea of Jaskier wearing his hoodie. It was petty and ridiculous and oh no, Geralt couldn't take his eyes off the way the black material framed Jaskier's collarbone. 

No. No no. This way lay madness, he told himself. He would simply get the hoodie back and that was that. 

hey when do u wanna do our next movie night

its been like

7099039 years

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He had never hesitated when it came to Jaskier. They had known each other for far too long. 

Sure. My turn to pick?

not if u choose a history documentary

Spy movie?

:0 promise?

yes pls

Should I bring wine?

Wait, no that would be a very bad idea. 

:) you know it

bring the good shit

eskels secret one

i know you can find it 

It’s called “google” Jaskier. Even I know that. And I will see what I can do.

same time and place as normal right

It’s a date.

Geralt felt as though his soul had left his body when he had hit send. Had he lost his entire mind? He was in the middle of typing a follow up, trying to word the best way to dismiss his complete and total departure from sanity when the little dots popped up then disappeared then popped up again.

It’s a date. :)

Jaskier nearly slammed the door back into Geralt’s face in shock. Geralt was standing in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, movie and carry out in the other. Then there was the shirt. Jaskier had actually helped him pick it out. The black button up, the sleeves rolled up and was his hair actually combed back? He looked good. Jaskier swallowed hard. He looked really damn good. 

But that wasn’t even the weird part. No, the weird part was the way Geralt’s eyes widened when he had opened the door. He recovered quickly though, nodding at Jaskier as he stepped in. 

“Didn’t think you’d let the apartment be cold enough you’d need to wear a hoodie.” He smirked, setting the bag down on the table before going right into the kitchen. 

“Comfort, Geralt. I’m telling you, I just don’t think you appreciate it enough.”  Jaskier followed him in. It was routine for them, the way Geralt got the wine open, Jaskier grabbed plates and silverware; the way they bickered and snarked, barely suppressing laughs through barbs. 

-o-O-o-

The coffee table was littered with cartons of orange chicken and fried noodles. Geralt set his plate down as he leaned back, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. He had to smile at the sense of deja vu that struck him. Casino Royale wasn’t just a comfort movie for them. It had been their first movie night nearly fifteen years ago. 

By now, they could practically quote the entire thing, make quips at Bond’s smugness and only just sit through that one scene without wincing. At least that’s what they told themselves. 

Now they watched as Bond and Vesper reconnect outside of that fancy English rehab center. Jaskier chorused him as they both rolled their eyes and sighed at Bond’s shitty lines about little fingers. 

“God he’s the worst.” Jaskier took a sip of wine, making a gagging sound. 

“Quantum still exists.” he chuckled. 

“Valid!” Jaskier set his wine down. 

Geralt leaned over as Bond delivered his next line, syncing his tone and dropping into a soft gravelly murmur. 

“Whatever I am, I’m yours.” It was supposed to be cheesy and ridiculous but Geralt found that it felt far too honest. There was truth to them that he couldn’t think to deny now.

Jaskier nearly choked as he looked up, his eyes going wide. Geralt watched as he leaned into his personal space. Time felt like it stuttered to a halt in that moment, Jaskier inches from him, still draped in his hoodie. Geralt wet his lips anxiously. The tension between them felt like a powerline pulled too tight; everything seemed to crackle with it. 

“Geralt-” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost the second Geralt closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. It was nearly magnetic and there was no pulling away. Geralt’s hands strayed down to Jaskier’s thighs without his realizing it. There was no way he could stop himself now. He’d wanted this for far too long to just let it go. Part of him would mourn the loss of his oldest friendship, but that was Tomorrow Geralt’s problem. 

Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Geralt tugged Jaskier into his lap clumsily. 

Geralt had to break the kiss first, pulling back gasping for air and pressing their foreheads together.

“Jask… Wait. Wait,” Geralt choked. He had to tilt his head back to get his words out as Jaskier dipped back in to start kissing him again. “Shit. Jaskier…” He already sounded wrecked to his own ears. His hands were on Jaskier’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his sides as he looked up, eyes searching. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He needed to hear it. He needed to know he was allowed to have this. It was one thing to say it would be Tomorrow Geralt’s problem, but it was another to actively throw away the best friendship he had ever had. He had spent too long pretending they could be just friends for it to fall apart like this. 

Jaskier crowded in closer and it took everything in him not to just give in to it because fuck that felt amazing. There was an easy smile across his lips that made Geralt feel like he was starving. 

“Geralt, I swear to the gods, don’t you dare start questioning this now,” as open as his face was, his voice trembled slightly. It was then that Geralt realized that Jaskier was practically vibrating under his palms. It was instinct the way he wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for at least a solid decade.” 

Geralt blinked hard as he gaped up at Jaskier. 

“Are you really that surprised, Geralt?” Jaskier hummed, leaning back down and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” He found himself chuckling, trying to breathe around the bubble of light that was threatening to fill his entire chest. He caught Jaskier’s mouth again, his hand coming up to slide into his hair, holding him close. 

It was hard to tell who had deepened the kiss further but the laughter died on his tongue when he felt Jaskier roll his hips down into his lap. Suddenly everything was too much and achingly not enough. The hoodie slipped down Jaskier’s shoulders and what little attention span Geralt had left zeroed into that same spot along Jaskier’s collarbone. 

Pulling Jaskier closer, he made a trail of graceless open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the firm column of his neck, his teeth raking over the spot with careless abandon. He was rewarded with a soft keen and Jaskier squirming in his arms. Long dexterous fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as his own found their way up the back of Jaskier’s shirt. 

“Geralt-” There was a tug in his hair and fuck shit yes. He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Jaskier chuckle fondly. “Geralt, as much as I am enjoying this,” he gasped, back arching as Geralt nipped just below his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

There was no arguing with that tone nor could he bring himself to find anything to argue about. Geralt tilted his head back up, Jaskier’s lips crushing in against his, taking every last remaining shred of doubt away. He felt his body switch to autopilot as he scooped Jaskier up from under his thighs, pleased at the way his legs wrapped around him automatically. He carried him easily, stopping only for a moment to pin Jaskier to the wall to adjust his grip under him, long enough to flick the lights off. 

Jaskier snorted, pulling away. “So considerate.” He teased. Geralt gave him a playful swat on his thigh and the chuckling was cut off by one of those delicious keening noises. 

Geralt half stumbled, half marched to where he knew Jaskier’s bedroom to be, blindly pushing the door open with his foot. He let himself bask in the heat of Jaskier’s body pressed to his, taking his bottom lip and biting it. 

The reality of where he was came crashing down on him and time was doing that thing again, slowing down as someone else with his hands kneeled against the side of the bed, letting them both tumble back into ridiculously lavish sheets. Years of habitual teasing were only tamped down by Jaskier’s insistent fingers making quick work of the buttons on the front of Geralt’s shirt. 

“You just had to wear this one, didn’t you.” Apparently not everyone was so distracted not to tease. “Do you know how hard it was not to just pull you into my apartment and kiss that ridiculous face of yours?” 

Geralt gave a wry smile. “Do you know how hard it’s been for fifteen years, being your best friend and thinking I would never get to kiss that beautiful face of yours?” 

He had to bite the inside of his lip as Jaskier’s whole face and neck flushed brilliant pink in the low light. 

“Geralt!” he practically whined and Geralt couldn’t stop from laughing softly at that, bending back down to kiss him again. He decided he couldn’t help himself, not really. 

This was too good. If he could just bottle this moment and tuck it away for every rainy day for the rest of his life, he would.  

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you now.” Geralt hummed happily. He shifted, the hand under Jaskier’s thigh moving to tug his hips flush with Geralt’s as his other hand moved to cup his face. “As long as you’re okay with that.” 

Geralt was pretty sure they were too far gone to ever go back, but even now, he had to make sure.

“Geralt Roger Eric…” Jaskier groused. “If you do not come back down here and kiss-” his words were muffled by Geralt’s mouth, his tongue sliding over Jaskier’s bottom lip and swallowing whatever ridiculous threats may have been lobbed at him. 

He found that kissing Jaskier had been easier than breathing. Before he knew it, Geralt was pulling back to pull off his shirt but his hands froze. He cursed under what breath he had left because the view of Jaskier under him, lips kiss bruised and shining, the needy look in his eyes, and the way his hair was pushed in every direction nearly undid Geralt completely. 

He snapped back to work, stripping out of his shirt and pushing at his jeans, letting them slide away. 

“C'mere you gorgeous thing.” Geralt murmured softly, pulling Jaskier to him before rolling, his back pressed up against the headboard. 

Jaskier shimmied out of his own jeans before straddling Geralt’s thighs, letting his fingers trail up the planes of Geralt’s chest, a stray fingernail grazing over his nipple, making him groan. Jaskier only grinned, leaning in, and nipping at Geralt’s neck. 

All Geralt could do was groan and tilt his head back, his hands sliding over Jaskier’s back. He was just aware enough to realize when Jaskier started to work his way down his body. Looking down, he watched in complete awe as nimble fingers hooked into his boxers. 

The first touch of Jaskier’s mouth to the jut of Geralt’s hip had his blood singing and he could only drop his head back against the wall. He hadn’t realized how achingly hard he was until Jaskier was biting down gently on Geralt’s upper thigh making him jump. 

There was a low chuckle from somewhere around his groin and then there was a sharp tug on his boxers. Jaskier wasted no time getting a hand around Geralt’s cock while he still playfully nipped at Geralt’s hip and thigh and abs. This was how he was going to die, he thought absently as he let his hand move to the back of Jaskier’s head. He let his fingers tangle there, tugging gently and Jaskier seemed to get the message though he could feel the smirk against his inner thigh. 

The weight of Jaskier between his thighs, one hand sliding up Geralt’s torso as the other stroked him lightly left Geralt breathless, his eyes fluttering at every touch. But it was when Jaskier wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock that Geralt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bucked his hips instinctively into the hot slick of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

For long moments, all Geralt could do was hold on. Jaskier took him slowly, seeming to savor the newly found ground between them as he bobbed further and further until Geralt was nudging the back of his throat. He gasped, his back arching when Jaskier swallowed around him, his responding hum a little too self satisfied. 

Geralt tightened his grip in Jaskier’s hair only slightly, tugging him up. It was messy and Jaskier’s mouth was open and slick, his eyes glazed slightly with a need that left Geralt breathless. He looked debauched and it was honestly the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen. 

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling Jaskier back into his lap, his hips stuttering to grind up against Jaskier’s thigh. 

Jaskier pressed in close, panting slightly as he broke a kiss that had been more teeth than anything, leaning his forehead to Geralt’s. “Mm, fuck. We- Ah,” He chuckled as Geralt dipped in to kiss him again, dodging away gracefully. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips , taking a shaky breath. “Want you to-” 

Geralt was already nodding. He would agree to anything Jaskier asked for but the way his hips ground down against Geralt’s lap, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. He wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s middle, rolling them gently until Jaskier was under him his knees still bracketed around Geralt’s thighs as he arched and keened.

“Under the notebook in the-” Jaskier breathed his hands not leaving Geralt’s skin for a moment, fingers greedily mapping out the lines of his back. 

“I know, you haven’t changed your hiding place since college,” Geralt teased. To his surprise Jaskier snorted under him, his head tilting back in the pillows as he laughed. It left the column of his neck exposed to Geralt and he couldn’t help himself but lean down and bite small marks into it. He was rewarded by more delicious noises endlessly streaming from Jaskier. 

He pulled away only for the time it would take to retrieve the lube before sliding back down into Jaskier’s arms and kissing him thoroughly. His hands traveled down Jaskier’s bare chest, his fingers brushing along the top of his boxers and he gave a low huff into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Why are these still on?” he grumbled, smirking when Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. 

“Someone’s been slacking in getting me undressed,” Jaskier shot back. 

TheirThere next kiss was a mess of chuckles and grins. Geralt shifted them again, moving to get Jaskier’s boxers down. The laughter died in Jaskier’s throat when Geralt’s fingers brushed low down his back and grazed over the swell of his ass, he buried his face into Geralt’s neck. Geralt didn’t tease for long before pulling away. It made Jaskier groan and nip at his neck until slick fingers returned to his entrance, circling slowly. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking back greedily. 

Geralt quietly cursed himself for letting so much time get away from him as he slowly worked Jaskier open, enjoying the way he shivered and babbled under him with every push of his fingers. When he slipped a third finger in, Jaskier bucked under him, his eyes slamming shut as he gave a shout. 

“Geralt! Fuck, dear heart, please, for the love of all that is good-” he pleaded, his hips rocking back onto Geralt’s fingers eagerly. “If you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to combust.” 

Geralt leaned down, muffling the rest of the curses that were probably coming with a hard kiss. Jaskier arched under him as he pulled his hands away. It was easy after that, letting their bodies slot together and letting himself slide into Jaskier’s tight warmth. It felt like a gut punch. It felt like coming home. 

Jaskier wound his legs around his waist, hands reaching up to thread into Geralt’s hair as he rolled his hips, taking Geralt deeper, causing them both to groan. 

“Jask.” Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s shoulder panting as he started a steady pace. Soon only the sound of their heavy breathing and Jaskier’s soft moans filled the room around them. 

Time around them seemed to hold still as Jaskier tugged gently on Geralt’s hair, prying him away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. The look Geralt found there left the world spinning. Jaskier’s eyes were bright and his smile warm even as his cheeks flushed. He was pliant and open and completely wrecked and the sight of him tugged at Geralt’s chest. The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his hips slowly rolling into Jaskier as they moved. 

“I love you, Julek,” he murmured as he kissed him slowly. 

Jaskier whined under him, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When they finally broke apart to gasp for air, Jaskier's eyes were searching his as he bit his lip around a low moan. He huffed a wet sounding laugh as a hand slid from Geralt’s hair to rest on his cheek, a well calloused thumb tracing along his chin. “Oh, dear heart,” he shifted, canting his hips to make Geralt move. The angle shifted and Geralt seemed to nudge right against where Jaskier needed him most as he arched from the mattress and groaned. 

Geralt pushed up to sit, pulling Jaskier up with him until he was in his lap. They rocked together, shuddering every time Geralt bottomed out. He gripped Jaskier’s hip tightly with one hand as his other slid between them, wrapping around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pushed up into his hand, swaying between his grip and his cock, they both seemed drunk on it. It was only a matter of time after that that Jaskier was crying out, Geralt’s name tumbling from his lips, his orgasm tearing through him like a whirlwind and Geralt could do nothing but hold onto him. 

Geralt steadied him, his hand holding Jaskier still as he thrust up into him, reveling in the small fucked out noises Jaskier whimpered into his neck before he too was shaking apart, spilling into Jaskier with a low satisfied rumble. 

They kissed again, lazy and sated, their chests a mess with Jaskier’s spend. He broke the kiss first, pulling back with that smile that always left Geralt feeling dazed.

“I love you, too. I love-” he didn’t get to finish because Geralt was pressing him down into the mattress again with a hard kiss, smiling. 

He was allowed. Everything that had happened seemed to catch up with him but instead of the sheer panic he had been expecting, the only thing that wrapped around him in that moment was the bright light that was Jaskier’s answering laugh. 

--

Everything was sore but in that pleasant kind of way after a good lay. Jaskier rolled over, pressing his nose into the pillow beside him. He smiled when he realized it still smelled like Geralt. 

Geralt. Fuck!

His hand reached out before he let himself open his eyes, wincing against the bright morning light that streamed in through his windows. The space beside him was empty.

But… Geralt had said it first? Where-? Jaskier’s heart sank, his throat tightening. He knew it was too good to be true. The moment Geralt had kissed him on the couch, he had pushed down every part of him that had screamed that he was going to end up hurt by time the sun came. 

He reached for his phone though he didn’t know who he was going to text. Essi wouldn’t even be awake yet on a Saturday. The space by his lamp was also empty. He realized he must have left his phone in the living room the night before when-

He tried not to think about how easily Geralt had lifted him up and carried him to bed. He had tried not to think about how there were now bruises on his hips that were shaped like Geralt’s hands or the trail of stinging bites that he would have to carry around his empty apartment for days. He pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes and groaned. 

“Idiot,” he berated himself. 

“Cause you left your phone in the living room and now it’s dead?” Geralt asked, pushing the door open with his foot. He was in a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and nothing else carrying in two cups of coffee. He looked up from where he had been concentrating, trying not to spill them. “What?”

“You’re here,” Jaskier chuckled. Something in his chest lifted and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“I… yes?” Geralt looked around. There was a lovely mark in the shape of Jaskier’s mouth on his shoulder and it made Jaskier’s toes curl. Geralt looked at the space beside Jaskier then at his face. He made a little oh with his mouth before he started to shake his head. “Oh! I see, hmm.” He set the coffee down gently on the side table and slid back into bed and into Jaskier’s arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“So we’re…” Jaskier looked away, rubbing his palms over his covered thighs. “We’re okay?” He didn’t dare hope. Not just yet. Not in the bright light of day. 

“Well, that depends,” Geralt  chuckled, pulling him into  his lap easily. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s chin. “Yenn messaged. Something about brunch. I think they know. Are you okay with that?”

Jaskier snorted, leaning over to grab his coffee. “Essi. I told her it was just movie night. I tell her it’s just movie night every time and-” He realized what he was saying, the cup of coffee hovering just at his lips. He looked sideways at Geralt who was tilting his head and smirking. 

“The biggest gossip we know and that’s the one you decide to confide in?” He took the cup from Jaskier’s hands and set it down again before rolling them both to pin Jaskier under him. 

Jaskier squawked indignity, his arms wrapping around Geralt. He let himself be kissed and hummed happily when Geralt slotted easily back between his thighs. 

“We’re going to be late for brunch,” he sighed as Geralt’s hand slipped down to his thigh, fingers brushing gently over the marks from the night before. 

“Hmm, don’t care.” 

They ended up missing brunch altogether but neither seemed to mind. 

---

The weather was crisp and dry and Jaskier was bundled in the black hoodie, but now pressed against Geralt’s side as they walked into Magnolia’s. It had been easier than Geralt was expecting though he groaned as he watched several fairly large wads of cash exchange hands. 

“Pay up, Jask,” Essi grinned. 

“What?” Geralt turned, scowling. Jaskier gave a chagrined shrug as he handed over money. “So little faith?” Geralt teased. 

“You too, pretty boy!” Lambert smirked across the table. 

Jaskier gasped beside him, leaning away “So little faith, Geralt?” The sleeves of the hoodie fell over his wrists and Geralt only smiled, pulling him back against his side. 

“I don’t mind being wrong this time.” 

[fortunes-favor]

As if I Am Looking in a Mirror

Co-written with @nottthebest

Paring: Essek thelyss/Caleb Widogast 

Word Count: ~2.8k 

Rating: T Summary: Caleb Widogast and Essek Thelyss both have plans to facilitate spending their lives together. Yussa helps.

Read on Ao3

Caleb and Essek are together for years. And though time is his specialty, Essek finds it slipping through his grasp.

As the weeks and months go by, Essek starts to notice strands of grey hair among a sea of red. And then another. And another, until Caleb’s hair is a mess of orange and red and white and silver.

It hurts seeing Caleb get older when he stays much the same age, at least in appearance. While Caleb is far past middle-aged, Essek is still only barely halfway into his second century.

So one day, he makes up his mind. It comes to him as they sit and study together, Caleb leaning against Essek’s chest, with Essek’s fingers absentmindedly running through Caleb’s salted strands. Caleb’s reading a book, and Essek has his own, though he hasn’t been able to concentrate on it. His fingers come to a stop, catching Caleb’s attention. Caleb leans his head back to see Essek’s thousand-yard stare.

“What’s the matter, liebling? I know that look,” Caleb teases lightly, his voice more gravelly with age.

Essek smiles in return. “Lost in thought. My mind’s been drifting so much these days.”

“Where to?” Caleb puts down his book and shifts to get a better look at the man he loves, causing Perle, one of their three cats, to yowl in protest before jumping off of Caleb’s lap. Caleb mutters a soft apology at the white cat before turning back to look at Essek’s face.

“Oh, places. I wonder what our friends are up to.” He deflects.

If Caleb knew his real train of thought… Well, that conversation will happen later.

“I’ll be visiting Beauregard at the Soul tomorrow. I’ll give you a rundown on what she and Yasha are up to.”

And at that moment, an idea strikes Essek.

“Perhaps I will go pay a visit to Jester and Fjord then. I hear Veth could also use a hand with her summer camps. Maybe a day or two on the coast would be nice.”

Caleb places a quick gentle kiss on his temple. “That sounds lovely. Just, make sure to take your parasol. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Essek scoffs, unappreciative of the reminder of the sunburn incident, but gives Caleb a soft smile followed by a sweet kiss on his lips anyway.

The following day, Caleb packs his things and, with a kiss goodbye, teleports directly to the Cobalt Reserve.

Knowing now is his chance, Essek gathers his spellbook and some gem dust. He puts precisely hundred-and-twenty-seven pounds of clay in a vault of amber. And he teleports to Nicodranas.

Jester and the others receive a quick visit, just in case Caleb asks about it later. He’s sure Jester will have sent him a message the moment he walked out the door. But he has a mission for today. With an illusioned disguise—not of Dezran Thain, he never wants to be him again— he quickly makes his way to the monumental tower he knew a friend of a friend would be at. He only hopes he can convince the mage to help.

He greets the goblin servant at Tidepeak, introducing himself as Essek of the Mighty Nein. He says that he has a spell to share with the goblin’s master, one that he’s sure the mage will find fascinating. The goblin lets him in after some persuasion. Once inside, Essek drops the illusion.

“Um. One moment.” Wensforth politely gives a slight bow before scurrying up the stairs, leaving Essek in the foyer. After a few out-of-earshot comments are passed, Essek’s ears perk up.

“Essek Thelyss,” an amused sounding voice rings from somewhere above the entryway. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Come upstairs. Please.”

The mage looks different from when Essek last saw him, but the last time Essek saw him, his face was a void, and his soul was trapped by a living city, so it’s not surprising.

Now, Yussa Errenis sits with thinly-veiled interest on his very-much-there face. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a favour to ask of you.”

Yussa’s interested look turns to one of surprise. “And why would I do you a favour? Do you offer me anything in return?”

Essek grins. “I am a member of the Mighty Nein, as well as one of the people who helped save you from the Astral Sea. I’m sure we can work something out.”

He luckily convinces Yussa to perform the transmogrification ritual to turn him into a fifty-seven-year-old human. Same age as Caleb. Yussa doesn’t quite understand why he would give up the many centuries he has left to live, but it’s fascinating magic that Yussa hasn’t yet had the chance to test, and if the drow wants to be foolish, he’s not going to stop him.

An hour later, Essek is human, skin darker than Beauregard's but cooler in tone, and hair still snowy white. His facial structure is as similar as it can be without raising suspicion. He’s a little taller but not enough to make much of a difference. The wrinkles are new. His skin feeling too loose on his body is new. His ears are definitely going to take some getting used to, and he’s going to have to stop wearing some of his ear cuffs and caps, specifically ones meant to fit pointed elf ears.

At the end of it all, Essek is packing his belongings, still trying to get used to the new body. He is exhausted but also feels like he’s floating, content. He will be able to spend his life with Caleb.

He suddenly stands up straight. “One more thing.”

Yussa’s humoured sigh is not well hidden at all. “Yes, of course, I am at your service. what else?”

Essek hesitates for a moment. “Do not tell Caleb what we have done here today.”

That interested look from before returns to Yussa’s expression. “I hesitate to ask for clarification on that request.”

Essek gives him no clarity, and after a quick thanks, disappears in a show of teleportation magic.

Through the elation of practicing an advanced spell, a similar happiness comes with a thought.

He can grow old with Caleb now. Even if they have very little time left, their time is going to be spent together. And if there is an afterlife, one won’t have to wait long for the other to join him there.

*********

Not too long after, Yussa has yet another visitor. He’s fully expecting the drow––human?––to be back, regretting his decision and asking to work on a reversal of it, see if they can revert him back to an elf, without having to wait the one year. It surprises him to see, instead, a slightly nervous Caleb Widogast, shifting his weight lightly from one side to the other.

“What a coincidence, Mister Widogast. I was expecting-” He shakes his head faintly, remembering his promise. “Nevermind that. What can I do for you?”

Caleb looks skeptical for a second before his expression turns neutral. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Deja vu is not something Yussa has experienced much in his 400 or so years of life, but then again, it's not often you befriend– no, become indebted to a group as unpredictable as the Mighty Nein.

“Of course.”

Further to Yussa’s surprise, Caleb is asking him much the same thing as his partner did. Except, Caleb is asking to be turned into an elf. Yussa doesn’t know why they wouldn’t have just done this in the first place, if the goal was to match the other’s life expectancy. Then it dawns on him.

He considers divulging Thelyss’ secret, but he did swear to him he wouldn’t tell Widogast about it. And the thought of them seeing each other's plans after they’ve been carried out is amusing, to say the very least. Plus, what’s the harm in watching the world burn just a little? He’s not beyond wasting someone else’s spell components to have a little fun, especially when that person is convinced that this is the thing to do. What’s another point of exhaustion compared to a good joke?

So he agrees. And the ritual begins and ends with expected success. Caleb’s silvering hair is now returned to its coppery brightness, the skin stretched more taught against his sharper, slimmer, ever so slightly more elegant features, his ears now pulled to fine points.

Oh, Yussa would very much enjoy seeing their reactions to each other’s new forms.

Yussa stifles laughter that’s building up at the thought. It really is too bad that both Thelyss and Widogast still wear the amulets that would keep him from Scrying on them. Oh, well, he will surely hear about it later, if not from the pair of knucklehead wizards then from their blue friend who is all too enthusiastic to Send to him.

He’s once again surprised that he’s looking forward to hearing from them.

*********

Essek returns to an empty home several hours later, having enjoyed the Nicodranas sun for the first time in his near-century-and-a-half for a while before returning. Faer, Perle and Fate filter into the room that houses their teleportation circle and all come to a confused halt upon seeing Essek. Essek is unsure of the reason for the change in behaviour for a moment before it hits him that he’s no longer in the body his cats are familiar with.

“Oh, it’s me,” he quickly says in Undercommon, kneeling down in front of the three cats with a hand reaching out to them. “I, ah, look––and smell I’m sure––a little different, but it’s me.”

Perle starts taking tentative steps toward Essek and cautiously sniffs his hand before gently nuzzling her head against Essek’s hand in a show of trust. Faer and Fate soon follow suit after being assured that Essek means them no harm, even if they don’t know it’s him.

Oh, gods, would they ever recognize him again? Would they think that Essek abandoned them if they never notice Essek’s human form to be the Essek that they know?

Essek shakes his head to dismiss the thoughts. Even if the cats never know it’s him, this will have been worth it to not have to live a life without Caleb at his side.

He feeds the cats before grabbing his book from the study and making his way to the bedroom. He trades his day clothing for his flowy pyjama pants, noting the slight difference in fit to his new, slightly less lithe body.

A while after he gets comfortable on the bed and starts reading, Faer jumps onto the bed and curls up at Essek’s side. Essek smiles softly to himself and lays a hand on Faer’s dark grey fur, petting him softly. Over the next couple of hours, while he reads, the other two cats join him on the bed. Perle making biscuits on Caleb’s pillow for a few minutes before settling on it, and Fate lies at the foot of the bed, almost at the very edge. Essek knows he will have to be careful not to kick him off the bed in the night.

Sleep takes him not long after he thinks; It seems there is hope for me with the cats after all.

*********

The next day, Essek hears Caleb come home before he sees him. Essek’s in the study, mulling over scenarios of how best to tell Caleb what he’s done when he hears his partner. Fate jumps off his spot on the desk next to the journal Essek’s jotting down ideas in, presumably to welcome Caleb home.

“I’m in the study, ussta che,” he calls out, standing up promptly. He dusts off imaginary lint from his leggings and wills his hands not to shake. “I, ah, have something to show you!”

“As do I,” Caleb says. Essek waits for rustling, the telltale noises of his wizard going through his bag in search of one thing or the other. It doesn’t come. Instead, Essek hears the approaching footfalls of Caleb.

When Caleb appears at the door, Essek is about to give Caleb a sheepish hello. However, he is shocked out of it the moment his eyes land on Caleb’s elven face. Caleb seems to be faring similarly as his mouth falls open in surprise and his long pointy elf ears twitch.

“Was..?” Caleb manages to get out weakly.

“It, ah, appears that we had a similar train of thought, chathtiu.”

Essek tentatively starts walking toward Caleb, never taking his eyes off the elf. Caleb Widogast is an elf.

“You’re human.”

“Oh,” Essek says, realizing the hilarity of the situation. He is a human now. And Caleb is an elf. Oh, gods. “Yes, I am,” he remembers to respond. “You’re an elf,” he adds immediately after.

“Is this one of your disguises?” There’s a trace of worry in his laugh.

“No.” He laughs in return, trying to ease the weird tension. “I paid our friend Yussa a visit. Something I assume you may have done as well?”

“Ja,” Caleb confirms and cradles his face with a smaller-than-Essek-is-used-to hand. “Schatz… You did this... You would have given your centuries away for me? You have such a long life to live.”

“No,” Essek says, wrapping his arms around Caleb’s neck. “Centuries without you would not have been living.”

“You didn’t think that I might also want to spend centuries with you?”

“I know you wouldn’t want to make your parents wait for you that long, Caleb. I also do not wish for you to have to watch the rest of the Nein die one after the other. I would never ask that of you.”

“I am offering, mein sternenlicht. You would need only accept,” He says, pressing a kiss at Essek’s temple.

“Caleb,” Essek protests softly and lets his eyes fall shut with a deep sigh.

“Unless that is, you find yourself not wanting to spend an elf’s lifespan with me,” Caleb amends, pulling back from Essek. Caleb doesn’t go too far, but Essek feels his warmth pull away anyway and snaps his eyes open.

“Caleb, you know I would stay with you through everything. But elves grow up knowing that they are going to be alive for hundreds and hundreds of years. Humans… You… I fear that you cannot fathom just how long those centuries are.” He runs a loving hand through his partner’s once-again-fully-copper hair and causes his hair tie to come undone, letting down strands as bright as the sun. “I do not want you to grow to regret your decision, chathtiu.”

“It’s good to know that you don’t have enough faith in me and our relationship that you would believe I might regret you if I am given more time,” Caleb teases, but Essek can still feel his hurt through the playful tone.

Essek rubs his temple and carefully chooses his next words to avoid any further miscommunication-related hurt. “Caleb, my love, that is not what I am implying. I trust in us enough to know that you will love me through the remainder of your days. I simply mean that I do not want you to regret this decision.” He gestures at Caleb’s elven body. “You will be the last of the Nein; even Caduceus will have a shorter life than us. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I do not want to see you go through that.”

Caleb’s face softens. “We,” he says.

Essek tilts his head in question.

“We would be the last of the Nein,” Caleb says, punctuating his words with a kiss on Essek’s lips. “Even still, I see your point, schatz. As much as I would love to spend centuries with you, I did not think about how lonely we both would be without our friends.”

“We could turn them into elves too,” Essek says, joking.

“That is a tempting idea.” Caleb smiles. “But maybe we could meet in the middle.”

“What did you have in mind?”

*********

About a year after he helped an elf become human and a human an elf, Yussa watches two half-elves walk towards the entrance of his tower, one with bright red hair and fair skin, the other with white hair and ashen brown skin. He tells Wensforth to go put some tea on and that he will greet their guests himself, before making his way down to the door.

“Mr. Widogast, Mr. Thelyss, I see you’ve worked something out.”

[achaoticeternal]

THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos​ “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you. 

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”. 

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen. 

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all. 

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years. 

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world. 

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father. 

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

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Merry Christmas, facialteeth!

For @facialteeth <3

When your soulmate loses something it gets sent to you and vice versa. For almost 400 years Magnus thought he would never have a soulmate until one day a pacifier shows up in his loft.

Read On AO3

*****

Who Are You Really?

Magnus stares at the pacifier in his hand. He doesn’t recall anyone bringing a baby to his loft recently. He doesn’t take in as many clients due to his position as High Warlock. He’s pretty sure he would remember a baby being in his home.

Thinking nothing of it, he sets it down on the side table in his living room and goes back to work. The Circle may be disbanding and shadowhunters are getting arrested, but there are still attacks happening in New York and the Institute has asked for his help in tracking the remaining Circle members.

Magnus snorts at his own phrasing. The Institute more so demanded that he help them. He of course made sure to set his price high for what he expected in return. The new Heads weren’t going to make him bend the knee to their every request. He was going to make life extremely difficult for the Lightwoods. They may have been forgiven by the Clave, but Magnus will never forget what they did. 

Without looking up from his cauldron, he reaches for an ingredient on his shelf, and instead of touching the vial he knows is there, a soft fabric brushes his hands. He whips his head up from the cauldron and stares at the blanket draped over the shelf. Not just any blanket, a child’s blanket- no an infant’s blanket. 

Magnus stares at the cloth for so long that his brewing potion is now ruined. He doesn’t care though, not when there’s something more important to focus on. With a shaky breath and hand, he grasps the blanket. It’s so incredibly soft in his hands, the fabric is perfectly suitable for a baby. Not just any baby though Magnus realizes, his soulmate’s. His soulmate must have just turned two, when most soulmates start to receive their partner’s lost items.

A sob escapes his lips and he presses the blanket to his face. 

Four hundred years, it took four hundred years for his soulmate to be born. Magnus had lost hope such a long time ago of ever getting one. Each year that passed with nothing showing up around had him made him lose hope. And after everything Camile did to him, the manipulation, the gaslighting, stealing his items, and pretending that they were soulmates, Magnus swore to never open his heart again.

Now here is this pacifier and blanket in his loft, letting him know that love will not be lost to him. That there is someone out there that is made for him. He scrunches his face at that thought. His soulmate is a baby, he shouldn’t be thinking like that, not yet. He still has many years to go, but Magnus will gladly wait as long as it takes to meet them.

“Oh god my soulmate is a baby and I’m a warlock,” he says out loud to no one. He glances in horror at the state of his apothecary. Everything is everywhere, the minute he forgets one thing it’s going to teleport to a baby. 

Potion forgotten, Magnus starts to clean his apothecary with precision, making sure that everything is labeled and in a proper place that is easy to find. The last thing he needs is to kill a baby, let alone his soulmate. 

“You better not die because of me,” he demands, glaring at the pacifier and blanket now resting in a case in his bedroom.

The first six years are filled with anxiety on Magnus’ end. His friends made fun of him at first, thinking he had finally gone mad. When he showed them the items, they rightly shut up and even occasionally helped him if he was looking for something for a potion. None of them wanting to be responsible for the death of his soulmate. This is the happiest they have seen him in a long time, if it means portaling at ungodly hours of the night to help him find something before it disappears then so be it.

Magnus did have fun “accidentally” losing toys for his soulmate to have and play with. He has no idea if his soulmate actually uses anything that he finds, he hopes that he does. While Magnus is sure that his soulmate’s parents spoiled their child to no end, Magnus was never one to not spoil someone important to him.

Somehow Magnus knew that the exciting thrill was never going to last. His soulmate would be eight now. He glances at the calendar on the wall, a big red circle around September 12th. Magnus had made sure to mark the date after he got a hold of his emotions all those years ago. 

He’s debating on what to send an eight year old child on their birthday. He’s been good about getting gender neutral toys for his soulmate, not knowing if they are a boy or girl. He’s going through a catalog on his phone when he spots a piece of paper on the coffee table. It's flipped upside down but Magnus can see some dark ink on the other side of the paper.

His soulmate must be doodling or drawing and forgotten something they made for their birthday. Magnus reaches out and grabs the paper flipping it over to inspect the drawing.

The paper bursts into flames by his magic.

No that- that can’t be right. Magnus just saw the paper wrong, he must have. There’s no possible way that was what he thought it was. He gets a second chance to see when another paper appears on his coffee table. He feels himself starting to fall apart as he reaches for the sheet and flips it over. He recognizes the marking anywhere.

Iratze

The paper once again catches fire from his barely contained magic. Magnus feels his throat tighten and his breath getting shorter. Shadowhunter. His soulmate is a shadowhunter, his mind provides. He feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. Of all the people living on this earth, his soulmate had to be of the people who have hunted and killed his kind for hundreds of years. 

Magnus barks out a wet laugh, immediately summoning a drink from his cart and downing it in one go. The glass is already refilled as he watches more papers appear on the table, more runes scribble on them. He doesn’t know how many times he refills his glass, but he got the desired effect he wanted: numbness. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s stared at those papers, drinking his pain away. He can barely sit up at this point with the alcohol flowing through his system. He can’t remember the last time he got this drunk. He’s been better since Camille, not wanting to go that far again. He hears the door to his loft open. Was he expecting guests? He doesn’t remember, doesn’t care. The intruder could rob him for all he cared.

“Well you look awfully dreadful,” a familiar British voice says. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring my calls and I had to take the long way in?” 

“Ragnor,” Magnus slurs, he tilts his head towards his friend. The small movement makes him nauseous, it takes everything in not to immediately stumble to the bathroom to throw up.

“What is it this time?” His friend sighs dramatically. Ragnor glances around the room, glaring at something out of his field of view. “Obviously something has upset you enough to drink almost your entire cart. Did Camille try and reach out to you?”

“No,” he says too quietly. He can already feel the emotions he’s tried to lock down start to bubble up. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Ragnor, his friend doesn’t need to worry about him. The man always has more important things to deal with than him. Still, his arm has a mind of its own and points to the coffee table.

“What, you were studying runes and decided that getting drunk would be easier?” Oh, he truly loves Ragnor, the old fool knows how to make him laugh even at his lowest of lows. 

“Not mine,” he manages to get out before tears start to fall. 

“Oh, old friend,” Ragnor whispers. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to explain more, his friend understanding what the papers mean. 

The couch dips beside him and an arm wraps around his shoulders. Magnus doesn’t even try to resist, he’s just so tired. He rests his head on Ragnor’s shoulder and cries. Damn the universe for dealing him this deck of cards. 

As his soulmate grows older, the less stuff they seem to misplace. Magnus would find it strange that he’s practically getting nothing, but at this point, he doesn’t care what the shadowhunter does with their life. 

He does, though, care about the number of arrows he’s been finding in his loft. 

Magnus glares at the vase he designated for arrow disposal and sees that it’s full. He has five more wrapped in a cloth in his hands. With a sigh he snaps his fingers and summons another vase, tossing them in. He doesn’t know why he’s keeping them, there’s really no point except to dump them at the Shadowhunter’s feet when they meet. Maybe even throw a few at them, he considers. 

There’s nothing on them so he figures that the shadowhunter is training. Though Magnus almost shudders at the thought that a child is already practicing how to use a weapon. His soulmate is only ten years old, surely Nephilim society would wait until their children are at least thirteen before making them train for hunting. 

“Stupid Nephilim, not keeping track of his arrows,” Magnus grumbles. “That’s almost thirty arrows in the past two months! I would like to think that a shadowhunter would at least know how to put arrows away after training and not leave them everywhere.”

“Do go easy on them, Magnus,” Ragnor snorts from the other room. “It’s not like they had a choice in what family and life they were born into.”

“They still have the option to run away,” he grumbles, knowing he’s being irrational.

“Surely you don’t want them to be homeless at ten years old?” Ragnor says, entering the room with two cocktails, handing one off to Magnus before plopping down on a chair. 

“Maybe,” Magnus whispers, he looks over at his friend and sees the raised brow. He rolls his eyes, “Okay I don’t, not really.”

Magnus knows he’s being unkind to his soulmate. But after everything in recent years with the Uprising and the Circle, it’s hard not to associate all shadowhunters into the same category especially when so many members of the Circle turned tail and came crawling back to the Clave. And the Clave willingly brought them back into their ranks with a slap on the wrist. Magnus rolls his eyes at the thought of Robert and Maryse Lightwood being allowed to look over the New York Institute as their punishment. Those two should have been put behind bars for all that they did for the Circle.

“Don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic?” Ragnor asks as Magnus takes the seat across from him. 

“Me? Dramatic? Hardly, my dear Cabbage,” he says dramatically, hand on his heart. 

“Right,” Ragnor snorts. “Just a gentle reminder that you are getting upset at a child for being born into a life he had no power over just like you with Asmo-”

“Don’t,” Magnus snaps, his glamor flickering for a moment. “Don’t ever compare my upbringing to that of a shadowhunter.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything else which he kinda feels bad about. His friend also knows better than to talk about his father in such a casual way. The two fall into a tense silence as they go through the books scattered on the table. He sighs, glancing over at the two vases of arrows that he’s put in his library. Ragnor is probably right, but he’s not going to tell that to the old fool’s face.

Magnus will apologize later, right now he wants to focus on the spell they’re working on and not about the shadowhunter.

The day they do meet is not by fate, no, more so Clarissa Fairchild, who Magnus had almost forgotten about. It’s been a couple of years since her mother brought the frightened child to his doorsteps to wipe her memories. Seems the girl has fallen into shadowhunter hands after her mother goes missing. He wouldn’t put it past the rogue Circle members that were in his club a few nights ago to be the reason.

As he examines the ruby necklace, a memento of another time in his life, a shout echoes across the basement and something whistles past his ear. Turning around he sees a Circle member fall to the ground dead with an arrow to the heart. 

Magnus feels his own heart stop as he turns to watch the archer descend the staircase and make his way to the corpse, to search for life. Magnus feels his skin turn warm and start to tingle, like a lego piece snapping into place. A whisper of a no slips past his lips. The shadowhunter must feel the same as he stands from checking the body he stands straight. Hazel meets brown as the man, the shadowhunter, stares at him in shock.

It’s him.

Magnus doesn’t wait for the man to reach him. He summons a portal, ignoring Clary’s cry to wait, and steps back into his loft. His breathing is erratic and it feels like his heart is about to explode. 

His soulmate is here, in New York. What is Magnus going to do? He can’t leave his post as High Warlock, not with Circle members making a reappearance. His people need him to protect them. Over the blood pulsing in his ears, he hears a cry, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts. Reaching out with his magic he feels that his hideout has been infiltrated. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left this place for that girl. 

Magnus can worry about the ache in his chest later, his people need his help. 

He doesn’t even wait for the Circle members to notice him, magic blasts out of his hands attacking any person who dares to enter this safe haven. When he finds out who leaked the location, he’s going to ban them from New York. He doesn’t have use for someone who would rat out his own people. 

“Your magic is strong, warlock,” the Circle member taunts. “Much stronger than that horned warlock I killed this morning.”

“Elias,” he says solemnly. He throws a ball of fire at the man who easily dodges it. They circle around each other, the man’s grin never leaving.

“So that was his name, lucky he sold you out before I took his warlock mark,” the man laughs.

Magnus knows he shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him, but he still finds himself lashing out at the Circle member, trying to disarm him. The man's grin turns even more sinister and something in his stomach tightens.

“Cats eyes,” he points out. Magnus didn’t even realize his glamor had dropped. “Would be a nice addition to my collection.”

Before Magnus can reply an arrow sings past him and lands in the man’s leg making him stumble. Magnus doesn’t wait for him to recover and deals a finishing blow. The Circle member collapses on the fallen bookshelf and Magnus feels like he’s frozen. That feeling in his stomach wasn’t from the Circle member, it was from him.

Magnus spins and sees the same shadowhunter from the club stand there, bow still raised, panic in his eyes. The man releases a breath and lowers his bow, eyes rake over the Circle member’s body before turning to Magnus. Magnus steps back, magic sparking at his hands ready to fight. 

The man opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something but nothing comes out. His eyes show only concern and worry, but that can’t be right, no shadowhunter would ever look at him like that. He glances at Magnus’ hands and the look disappears to something more neutral, closed off but not before Magnus catches a glimpse of pain.

“Alec!” A male voice shouts from down the hall, Alec glances behind him taking his eyes off of Magnus. The man must have a death wish for taking his eyes off of him. Magnus could easily take him out now, but his body won’t let him. “That’s the last of them.”

The shadowhunter, or Alec, nods his head and turns towards Magnus again, “We should go join the others.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Shadowhunter,” he bites back, hoping to get a reaction out of the man, but Alec doesn’t even flinch, just nods his head again.

“Apologies,” Alec says, turning around and leaving the library but halts, looking at something on his left. Magnus follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at the multiple vases of arrows he’s kept over the years. Alec’s face stays blank but the grip on his bow tightens before he continues his way out of the living room.

Strange, Magnus thinks. He thought the shadowhunter would have demanded Magnus listen to him or even drag him to where everyone else is. Instead he’s letting Magnus choose to go with him, giving him the option to run tail if he wanted. 

Of course, Magnus won’t do that, he realizes with a sigh. He doesn’t know how many of his people made it out alive, all of them probably scattering the second the Circle members entered the hideout. He’ll need to notify friends and any families of the fallen here. 

With a wave of his hand, Magnus rids the loft of any dead circle members and teleports their bodies to the ocean. Let the sharks have their fun with them, he doesn’t care. In another wave, he teleports the bodies of the fallen warlocks to another safe haven he has in New York and a fire message to Catarina about what happened and where she needs to go.

When Magnus enters his living room he catches Alec with his head down and a girl with long dark hair rubbing a hand up and down his arm looking at him with concern. Something in his chest aches and presses a hand to his heart. Is that what Alec is feeling? He hates it. He doesn’t want to feel what the shadowhunter is feeling. 

He must be projecting his emotions because Alec flinches, pressing a hand to his chest and looks up at him. Again the pain that he sees disappears by that blank look. The girl catches Alec’s change and looks over at him and sends Magnus the most heated glare he’s ever received. 

He doesn’t have time to deal with that. He puts on his High Warlock persona and makes a show of his magic. Clary, to no surprise, is as stubborn as her mother and refuses to leave without getting her memories back. So he tells them what they all have to do to get them back. None of them argue to his surprise, though the blonde boy tries but is stopped by Alec with a hand on the shoulder. 

The summoning goes off without a problem. All of the shadowhunters listen to his explanation of how the ritual works and that they must not let go of each other’s hands. When Magnus explains that they must hold hands, the sister, Isabelle, moves into a position that forces Alec and him to hold hands. Magnus tries not to let his frustration show and accepts the positions. 

The second he and Alec’s hands touch, it’s like the final piece of their connection is sealed. He hears Alec let out a gasp and the hand in his grips tight before loosening. Magnus looks at Alec and the shadowhunter is not even glancing at him, he continues to stare at the wall opposite of him. Magnus feels an incredible sorrow fill his chest that makes him want to curl up and cry. 

Alec shows no outward sign of what he’s really feeling and something pokes at his heart that this is not the first time that Alec has had to mask his emotions. He shakes off the feeling, looking away from Alec to see everyone else staring at him waiting, though Isabelle is still glaring at him. 

The demon asks for a memory of the ones they love the most. Of course, his is Ragnor, his oldest and closest friend. Jace, who he finds out is Alec’s parabatai, and Isabelle’s are of Alec, which warms his heart or well maybe not his, he looks over at Alec and sees the soft smile on his face as the shadowhunter sees himself reflected in the tornado of smoke in the center. He doesn’t even catch what Clary’s memory was, too enraptured by the kindness shining in his soulmate’s eyes.

When the summoning is over, Clary collapses and is caught by Jace. He scoops the unconscious girl and leads her out of the loft with Isabelle, a quiet thanks as they pass him, leaving Alec and Magnus alone in the room. Alec hasn’t looked up from his hands since they let go, rubbing the hand that was entwined with his.

“Thank you for helping us,” Alec speaks softly. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says.

“I know.” Alec finally looks up from his hands and there’s a small smile on his face. “I’ll let you be. Have a good night, Magnus.”

The shadowhunter doesn’t wait for his response and rushes out the room to catch up with his family leaving Magnus alone. 

Alone.

Something that Magnus has been used to for decades now. His heart had been protected under a lock and key for so long and then Alec, this shadowhunter, his soulmate had to barge in and rip the lock off the cage. 

Magnus doesn’t want to feel like this. He liked it better when he was alone and didn’t have a soulmate, when he didn’t feel this much in his chest. The people he knows who have met their soulmates have told him about how they felt butterflies the first time they met their other half. That it felt like they were whole for the first time. Magnus doesn’t feel whole, he feels rage at the universe for giving him a shadowhunter as his soulmate.

Magnus doesn’t care how kind Alec may or may not be.

He will never fall in love with a shadowhunter.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time he saw Alec. He made it clear that he was not interested in getting to know the shadowhunter and thankfully Alec respected that. Again throwing Magnus off about his view of shadowhunters. 

Now Jace definitely fits that shadowhunter personality. Brash, rude, demanding, following red heads around like a lost puppy. Magnus rolls his eyes as the blonde’s gaze never leaves Clary’s as she word vomits in his living room fretting over Luke. Luke, who is in the state he’s in because of Clary, and Simon who couldn’t listen to simple orders. 

One would think that the girl would take her time to recover after getting all of her memories back. It seems that when she discovered the location of the cup, she snuck out of the Institute and met up with Sherman only to get kidnapped which led to a fight between a Beta and an Alpha werewolf which led to a new leader to the New York pack and-

Lilith, Magnus needs a drink.

He sends Simon and Jace off to fetch ingredients for him to help with the potion that would save Luke. Which leaves him and Clary to wait for them to return. Magnus focuses on the potion to make sure it doesn’t turn sour.

“So,” Clary says. “You and Alec, huh?”

Magnus almost drops a vial in the cauldron. “I beg your pardon?”

“You two are soulmates right?”

“And what gave you that idea?” He grits. 

“The stuff in Alec’s room,” she shrugs, wandering around the apothecary. “He has a whole bookshelf full of trinkets and vials exactly like the ones in here.” Clary pokes at the vials on his shelves, he almost snaps at her to stop. “It’s really incredible, you can tell he took great care of them all.”

“Is that so?” 

Clary nods, smiling as she picks up a vial off his table, inspecting it. “Yeah, he got really upset with me when I tried to pick up one of the items. Even went as far to wipe my finger prints off the thing. You can easily tell they’re his greatest treasure.” Clary’s smile turns to a frown. “Though last time I went to talk to him, he had put a bed sheet over the shelf.”

Oh. That information does something to his heart, like something has a vice grip around it now. Magnus shakes his head, clearing himself of the feeling, and goes back to the potion.

“Maybe he’s upset that he realized I’m a warlock,” he snorts.

“No, that wasn’t it. When I first saw it, he had this soft, delighted smile on his face. He had said that he hadn’t met the warlock who was his soulmate yet, but that he was eager to meet them. Said that he hoped his runes wouldn’t scare you away and that he could prove that he would care for you the way he cared for the items he got from you through your connection.” 

The vial that was in his hand drops to the table. Clary jumps at the sudden sound and turns to him in surprise.

Surely Alec didn’t think that way about him. He was an abomination with demon blood, Alec was a shadowhunter with angel blood. There’s no possible way they would work and yet, Alec knew his soulmate was a warlock before he even laid eyes on Magnus. Had a bookshelf full of the items he had lost over the years.

“Why?” He mutters quietly. “He’s a shadowhunter whose soulmate is a warlock. We’re not exactly the perfect match.”

“Why should that matter?” Clary asks. “It is clear that Alec doesn’t care that you’re a warlock. His mother is a different story though.” Clary rubs her arms up and down her arms like a shiver passed through her. The accurate reaction when talking about that woman. “I don’t understand how he just stands there while she speaks to him like that.”

“Like what?” His mouth feels dry, the blank face from a few days ago makes sense now. With a mother like Maryse Lightwood, finding out your son has a warlock soulmate probably didn’t go over well. He’s positive that Alec’s other siblings didn’t get that treatment, especially Clary and Jace who discovered they were soulmates. 

“Like he’s inferior for having a warlock as a soulmate. The first thing she did when she stopped by his room was berate him for still having that bookshelf, like he should be ashamed of himself for displaying who his soulmate was so openly and that she thought she told him to toss out anything that wasn’t useful.”

Magnus feels like there’s no air in the room. He leans forward on the table and stares into the bubbling concoction. 

With each new thing he learns about Alec, the less his view of him is so harsh. 

“That’s when he had covered the bookshelf,” Clary whispers, biting her lip. “Ever since their mother came back to the Institute that spark in Alec’s eye is gone.”

“Maryse does have the personality of a brick,” he chimes in hoping to lighten the mood. 

Clary doesn’t take the bait and instead looks at him with sympathy. “I don’t remember much about when we came here last, my memories are still a bit jumbled, but I know that when I woke up, no one knew where Alec went. Jace said to let it go, that he gets that way sometimes, but I couldn’t help feeling like something wasn’t right. When I found him he was on the roof, shooting arrows, one after the other until his hands were bleeding.”

“Why are you telling me this,” he rasps. His heart is beating out of control. Was Alec that hurt by his rejection? He was a shadowhunter, he should be relieved that his warlock of a soulmate doesn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t like Magnus would be upset if Alec left. Something about that thought makes his heart stop. 

“Because you both deserve happiness,” she says. “And I think Alec at least deserves a chance before you kick him to the curb.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? For centuries he’s kept away from shadowhunters as much as possible and now he was fatefully connected to one. Why should he be the one to make that step? It wasn’t like Alec was taking the first step.

That’s because you rejected him before he could, his mind unkindly reminds him.

Magnus doesn’t get the time to ask more questions about Alec as Luke starts to seizure on the couch. He tells Clary what still needs to be done with the potion as he rushes over to Luke and pour his magic into the werewolf’s body to slow the spread of the poison. 

He loses track of time, just focusing on making sure that Luke makes it through this process. Just as he starts to feel his magic flicker, the door to his home bursts open and there’s a warm body catching him as he falls back.

Magnus huddles closer to the warmth, clasping his hand around the one that takes his. 

“Use my strength,” a voice whispers in his ear. “Take what you need.”

Magnus doesn't waste a second, siphoning magic from the person behind him. It’s like being shot with adrenaline, the other person’s energy practically shoving its way into his body. It’s definitely a first for him. Anytime Magnus has asked to share strength with someone, there is always a tug from the other person, not fully trusting Magnus to not abuse the power the other is giving him. Magnus feels no resistance from whoever he’s taking magic from. For someone to trust him that openly and blindly that they just give him their very essence brings tears to his eyes.

He’s going to have to thank whoever it is once he’s sure that Luke won’t die on him. Maybe even take them out to dinner as a thank you. As if they heard his thoughts, Jace and Simon rush through the living room and hand over the last ingredient to Clary who tosses it in the cauldron. Moments later, the trio are rushing over to the couch and pouring the potion down Luke’s throat.

The reaction is practically instant. Luke is no longer seizing on the couch and the dark veins around his wounds are receding. Magnus stops his constant flow of magic and drops. Or would have dropped, if the person behind him hadn’t caught him preventing him from making a fool of himself.

He just settles into the person’s arms and closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He used more magic than he had planned tonight and he feels exhausted. Not as exhausted as he thought he would be he realizes. That’s when he feels the hand still in his squeeze down and rub the back of his hand with their thumb. The person he’s leaning against begins to speak to Jace.

He jolts at the person’s voice, realizing just exactly who he is resting against. He opens his eyes and whips his head to Alec’s. Alec who is staring down at him with concern and worry that makes his heart ache. Magnus hurriedly lets go of their entwined hands and finds the strength to stand up. He doesn’t look back at Alec.

He asks Jace and Simon to help carry Luke to the guest room, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and the quick beatings of his heart. He hastily follows the men into the bedroom, making sure Luke is comfortable. He’s not ready to address that whole situation waiting for him in the living room.

As he gets Luke comfortable, his mind wanders back to Alec. He wonders if one of the others called Alec for help, but no, there would be no reason for them to notify Alec that he would need assistance. None of them but Clary knew about Luke’s deteriorating state and she was too busy making sure the potion was good to go when the others returned with the missing ingredient. 

He pauses fluffing Luke’s pillow and presses a hand to his chest as it aches. He had been so focused on healing Luke that he didn’t even notice his connection to Alec was so open. He doesn't feel much from Alec, but he understands now, why Alec knew to come to the loft. Magnus must have called out to him and Alec came running to help.

He doesn’t understand the Shadowhunter. Magnus couldn’t have made it more clear that he wasn’t interested in getting to know him. Yet, he still showed up, saved his life twice, helped Clary get her memories back and even assisted him in saving Luke, all without Magnus asking him to. He held Magnus close to his chest and let him practically drain him of his Nephilim energy to save Luke. The part of him that he kept under lock and key for so long slowly pours out and a warmth spreads through him at the fact that someone would do that for him without him asking, begging them to do so. It’s what he always wanted in a partner.

Why should the fact that him being a shadowhunter change that? Clary’s words from before also ring in his head, that Alec kept everything he lost and displayed them proudly in his room and told others about him, other shadowhunters. 

He’s hit with a yearning in his chest that makes him want to try. To maybe get to know Alec a bit and see what the shadowhunter is like. He’s never given Magnus a reason to think that he’s hostile. If anything, Alec has been giving him the space he’s asked for and was only dismissed when Magnus told him off. It’s Magnus who’s the one that’s been hostile. He should fix that, go talk to Alec. He should start by saying thank you.

Magnus excuses himself from the room and goes back out to the living room. Millions of thoughts race in his head, wondering what he should say, how he should say it. But when he reaches the living room, Alec is nowhere to be seen. Magnus steps towards the couch and looks at the entrance to his loft and doesn’t see the shadowhunter. 

His foot hits something on the floor. Magnus’ breath catches as he finds a small trash bin filled with bloody rags. He looks at his couch and sees that the blood stains are gone. 

Alec cleaned up the mess for him. Alec probably felt how depleted of magic he was and didn’t want him to exert himself anymore. The smell of lavender waffs through his living room, getting rid of the metallic smell of blood and decay.

He doesn’t know why that makes his eyes water. Alec did all of this without being asked to. He was being kind again, like he has been since he and Magnus first crossed paths. Magnus was just too stuck in his past to realize it. 

Not anymore, he decides, clenching his fists. He’s not going to let his past dictate his happiness anymore. He has a chance to be happy with the man who the universe has chosen to be his soulmate and he’s going to make the most of it.

Magnus is going to make this right, he has to.