#fic name comes from ‘different then the others’

[harmonysanreads]

Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

Synopsis: There is a wilted daffodil resting between the pages of Ratio's memories. Tags: POV Dr. Ratio, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Hurt/Comfort (?), Slow-burn (oh my), Right Person Wrong Time (oh dear), Strangers to Friends, Reader is Older than Ratio, We speak in the Language of Flowers here, Literary References and Allusions, Exploration of Academic Struggles, Jealous!Ratio, Exploration of Grief, Slight Yandere!Dr Ratio, My Interpretations of Ratio's Past and Ideologies (because hyv won't tell me), Brief Aventurine Appearance TW(s): Toxic Relationships, Toxic Family Dynamics, Implications of Physical Abuse (not condoned by Ratio) Author's Note: At long last, my ‘thesis’ on Dr. Ratio is finished :') I've been working on this fic since June 2024 and finally gathered enough willpower to push through the rest of it. I started this fic with the sole goal of torturing Ratio but ended up falling in love with him halfway through this fic- as such the direction may have shifted orz Please forgive any unintentional errors and get cozy <3

「 Word Count : 11k 」 「 Artwork Credits 」 「 Read On AO3 」

i. Panorama.

They say, the best years of a human's life are spent before boards painted with chalk scribbles and around those of one's ages, filled with careless laughter and weaving hopes for the distant future.

Veritas Ratio has always disagreed with this belief and backed his own with a multitude of reasoning. For one, those so crowned ‘best years’ are not to be wasted through wishing your fantasies would come to fruition on their own. Secondly, his experiences run contrary to the images illustrated by the majority of the population. Which, fall as it might within the grounds of personal grudge, has enough weight to not be disregarded entirely, he'd argue if necessary.

If confronted on his bitter feelings regarding the schooling years of a person's life, there is a possibility that the erudite Doctor will falter and then incoherently mutter something about it not being a downright horrifying experience.

The chances of receiving further clarification from that point decreases significantly and will be entirely dependent on Ratio's mood, which, isn't perceived to be the most agreeable on most days.

In the rare case that luck shines upon the inquirer and Veritas Ratio's stern edges soften with nostalgia, there will be but one name that'll leave his lips in an uncharacteristically somber cadence.

If certain events had transpired differently, the recollections of that day would've been far sweeter than it is now — but still, the parasite known as nostalgia begs to alter his memories. It attempts to soothe the cuts gained from reaching towards aspirations far beyond his capabilities with cursory glances from the sun, and daisy petals hidden in the crevices of dusty tomes.

In the days Veritas Ratio treaded in an environment where nearly everything was twice his height, carrying expectations no one would bother to understand, he'd pledged to himself to not fold before irrational demands just because he wasn't a sight one would normally see in an institution full of burgeoning adults.

He was no stranger to the attention his genius brought, far more so the unwanted part of it.

Which was why he'd stubbornly made his goals clear to his titular peers within the first week of his attendance, much to their bewilderment.

Any suggestions for free ‘assignment completion service’ was shut down curtly and neither did the prodigious new student bother to partake in other youthful activities — but surprisingly, Veritas's distant countenance hadn't succeeded in putting a dent to his overall popularity.

Perhaps that is the reason the requests for private tutoring sessions and borrowing of notes never did cease, because despite his attitude, no one could deny his intelligence. And that, ultimately became his label in that university. Consequently, no one went out of their way to seek him out unless it concerned academics — except one person.

Ratio thinks he might've been witnessing a meteor streak the night sky instead, because relatively speaking, he couldn't trace where you appeared from with just his bare eyes.

(Though now that he thinks again, it might've been because he'd not bothered to look beyond the white board of the lecture halls, haughty as he'd been.)

—And as momentary as said event, you'd stunned him with an inquiry that did not match any of the others that'd preceded your kind.

“Why are you all alone during lunch, little boy? Whoa, you're studying even now?”

He’d barely missed the astonished gleam in your eyes when he parted from marking an important section from his book in a flinch. The unacquainted sight beside his desk had put the functions of his brain at a temporary standstill, before resuming with a barrage of questions as you observed him rather amusedly.

The small smile that appeared on your face next halted any of those inquiries from gaining voice as Veritas's reflexes worked to catch the objects tossed his way.

“Take these for now. Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know? You can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of your health first.”

Veritas blinked owlishly at the apple and sandwich now resting on his lap, the words of advice you stated in a rather sing-song tone barely registering in his head as he vacillated between demanding your identity and scoffing at your audacity.

Much to his chagrin, you evaded his burning stare and waltzed out of the vacant lecture hall before he could even open his parched mouth, again.

(What he recalls first before this peculiar interaction now is how the usually mundane sunlight had embraced your form that day.)

He only saw more and more of you from then onwards, much to his initial displeasure. For some mysterious reason, you'd made it your hobby to nag at and subtly coddle him in ways that made any other passing student raise eyebrows.

Whether it be dragging him to places and sometimes forcing him to eat lunch or separating him from his beloved books to 'refresh his mind' at some other corner of the campus, you never faltered ; despite all the scowls and passive aggressive quips he sneaked in.

Only after some research did Veritas discover you to be one among the seniors and, he'd admit it somewhat begrudgingly, you were a senior in every sense of the word.

Although, that knowledge did not aid him in answering the most begging question: why were you going out of your way to guide him through the perilous terrains of university? He'd initially suspected you to demand recompense in the same ways the others coveted. 

Perhaps you were an expert manipulator, struggling to wrap up your last year in the institute and as a result, decided to prey on the genius through teasing words and coddling.

Ratio was fully prepared to face you when you showed your true face — except, his hypothesis ended in utter failure as that expected unravelling never came.

So, on another of your usual kidnappings meetings under the old oak tree at the far end of the campus, Veritas decided to soothe the scorching paranoia in his head.

“It’s because you remind me of my little siblings! It's been such a long time since I've seen them and I just really miss them, you know?”

He doesn't know. Neither the sentiments that are apparently driving you to take care of him nor whether you're being sincere.

Here's the most annoying thing about you: despite how much of a genius Veritas is crowned to be, he's experienced repeated failures in deducing what lies beneath that benign smile of yours.

At least there are formulas and theories to explain or, get closer to the enigmas of the universe. But whatever and whoever moulded you into your present state had clearly forgotten to leave a loophole behind for curious minds like his to decipher.

“Besides, I understand how you must be feeling in this environment where everyone is half a decade older than you — even though you like to act tough. I know that there's a seed of loneliness that's ready to burst into a giant tree with the right incentive and you're just holding onto the last of your sanity to not let that happen.”

Ratio's fingers halt midway through flipping to a different page of his book. Your observation silences him long enough to make the rustles of leaves permeate the atmosphere, before he forces his brows to furrow and his lips to quirk down.

“It’s rude to make assumptions about someone you barely know.”

The purple head watched as you leaned against the palm of your hand, as though the sneer on his face was nothing worth fretting.

“Aww, did I catch little Veri off guard? No need to be in such denial, I saw you gape like an owl at my words. But owls are my favorite bird, don't worry!” The hostile expression on his face morphs into surprise as you ruffle his hair with your free hand with more enthusiasm than required.

“Rest assured, I'll take care of you for as long as I'm here, little Veri.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you don’t.”

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis 

Little Veri.

If there was something he despised more than the shrill voices of his classmates, it'd be that nickname. You might've been accurate in your choice of words in a literal sense, but for the first time, honesty had bruised his ego.

The prodigy was not accustomed to being treated his age, he was always commended as ‘mature’ and being ‘beyond his years’. Yet you had never even bothered mentioning this and instead, always poked at the suppressed child that slumbered at the deepest corner of his heart.

What he loathed even more was how every repeat of that ridiculous nickname actually made him feel quote-on-quote ‘little’. No, how you allowed a leeway for that teenage heart to peek through from under a canopy of knowledge and caution.

Intentionally or not, you carved a shelter for that little boy to crawl beneath in moments that no one would care to glance at.

It was a matter of great shame although, while his teachers had handed him the basics to deciphering the laws of the universe, no one had bothered to teach him how to respond to such kindness.

Upon further digging, the genius was surprised to find that your merit resided in the top five of your entire year. While he hadn't taken you for a dimwit (he'd rather eat dirt than utter such sacrilege) his astonishment stemmed from the fact that he'd never seen an academic material accompanying you on campus.

He’d even thought your sole task was to bother him with your half-a-decade years old wisdom upon a particular session of agitation. But after clarity grasped his mind, he realized that his suspicions were simply baseless in an institution as competitive as Veritas Prime.

Instead of journals and papers concerning your major, Veritas often saw you seeking refuge in musings soaked in fantasy and your rationale behind such escapades puzzled the mind of his younger self greatly.

“And then the male lead gave a bouquet of bluebells to the female lead, declaring his feelings! Isn't that so romantic?”

Ratio scrutinized your form hunched over from giddiness derived from materials that appeared alien to his eyes, stacks of textbooks wept at the corner of the table in abandonment.

“Bluebells? I thought people gave roses for matters like this?” sunset orange eyes swept over the incredulity blooming on your visage.

You sighed as though he was the most exasperating person you had the misfortune of dealing with, “It’s because bluebells are the symbol of eternal and undying love. Roses are undoubtedly lovely but as you said, if anyone was to give roses to someone, everyone and their grandmas would have an inkling about what is happening between them! Giving someone a bouquet of bluebells on the other hand, is far more secretive and exciting.”

“I don't really understand but alright.”

Ratio almost drops his pen at the flick to his forehead, “So unromantic! You're never getting a girlfriend if you continue being like this, kid!”

His free hand whips up to shield his skin against further damage, he feels the muscles of his temple twitch in profound irritation. “I don't need—”

“Yes yes, you're too preoccupied with the pursuit of knowledge to bother with fickle things like romance blah blah blah.” Ratio's eye roll almost synchronizes with yours.

Veritas knows and he isn't ashamed to admit that he's not a romantic person. The path he walks on has no necessity for abstruse emotional attachment and sentimentalities.

On the contrary, what he abstained from seemed to be the centrepiece of your interest.

Your eyelashes flutter as you rest your elbows on the table, eyes searching for a trace of your wishes among the litany of bookshelves, “But if anyone was to confess to me, I'd want them to give me a bouquet of bluebells instead of trying to articulate their feelings.”

Ratio raised a brow as your sigh echoed throughout the grand library, “And how, pray tell, would they know of your preference?”

“That’s the thing, little Veri!” you snapped your fingers as though you'd solved the greatest dilemma plaguing mankind, “I wouldn't talk about these fantasies to just anyone. If someone was to give me a bouquet of bluebells, it'd mean that we're close enough to know these secrets and then there'd be a high chance that the feelings are mutual. No awkward moments, we'd know what we are without even speaking!”

The purple head observed as you rambled, the light from the sinking afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass shone on you. A scoff escaped him before he could stomp it down, his arms crossed almost derisively.

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

“Of course not,” your reply was brisk and simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Ratio's perplexed gaze with an unusual calm, “If by ambition, you mean what I want to do after all this studying, well — I want to be a teacher.”

Veritas couldn't hold back the surprise from soaking his words this time, “A teacher? Why?”

But you seemed to find great entertainment in his reaction, if your twinkling eyes was anything to go by and the genius isn't even taken aback this time; your sources of amusement would never be the guesswork of anyone.

Your shoulders shifted as you shrugged, “Why not? Teaching is one of the most noble professions out there, but it warrants great caution and wisdom. Hmm, come to think of it— what do you want to be, Veri?”

Ratio nearly flinched as you expertly shifted the attention to him, glossing over it with a fake cough. “I…” his throat constricted as you leaned in ever so slightly, “—don’t know.”

“Whaaaat?” you backed away just as quickly, dragging the syllables of that word to emphasize your disappointment. “Tsk tsk, so you're just studying blindly without any clear goal? That isn't going to get you far, regardless of how intelligent you are.”

He knows that, but what is he supposed to do if his mind blanks when he tries to envision himself in any conventional field? In fact, he considers it as one of the flaws of the educational system. How a student is always urged to find their place in the grand scheme of matters but never guided through them ; or, at least, given clear pointers.

It'd also be careless to label Veritas completely clueless about his situation. What he does cradle, or was compelled to bear was not borne of his personal wishes. But with time, his mind accepted it as his own, though a part of his heart always ached with emptiness.

You cleared your throat upon noticing that a great conflict had rendered the genius speechless, “Well... as for the reason as to why I want to be a teacher, it's because I want to help those students who struggle to find their way in this vast world. Regardless of where they rank in the merit position or what ‘status’ society has assigned them. Granted, this struggle may continue even after someone has graduated and while I may not be able to help every single person, I still want to try my best. After all, that should be the goal of our educational system — in my opinion, at least!”

You chuckled somewhat bashfully afterwards, remnants of it settled on the way your lips curled. There was something so succinct yet undoubtedly natural about that smile, like petrichor and he felt a pang of regret hitting his ribcage for not noticing it before.

Although it might not appeal to some, to many it brought solace even before the sun could sweep aside the canopies of darkened clouds.

Something that's appearance was preceded only by the tears of the skies, it stunned the mind that such beauty could be unearthed from a phenomenon so seemingly insignificant.

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism 

Ratio did not comprehend the value of your presence until he was deprived of it.

Due to certain circumstances, the genius had learned to be contingent with the fact that he'd have to navigate the majority of his life all by himself. Of course, ignoring simpletons and self-centered personnel came easy to him as well.

What the scholar wasn't conscious of, or was too prideful to acknowledge was the harrowing vacancy in some obscure corner of his heart that yearned for a deeper connection. It would take little effort for him to rationalize this longing with his age and return his attention to far more pressing concerns.

But it seemed that the more he tried to silence the wails of his feelings, the more cacophonous they became.

You'd spoiled Veritas a good amount, with your willing enthusiasm to tail after him whenever you had the reprieve.

So, when you abruptly stopped your usual pursuit in exchange of accompanying another person whose face he couldn't bother to remember, the young scholar was left to deal with a surge of emotions he had little control over.

Said emotions, were tame enough to be kept under check within the first few weeks as he learnt that the purpose of this sudden acquaintance had been for the completion of a group project.

Where the scholar's composure did start to falter was when you maintained your distance from him even after the fulfilment of said project.

And Ratio despised the sparks of resentment that'd flare up in his chest each time you'd pass him by while chatting so deliriously with that no-name stranger.

He was thrown in a limbo the first time he witnessed someone else in the position that he held and although he stubbornly convinced his mind that it was for the best ; each time the scene would replay in the corridors and crevices of the university, Veritas could see yellow hyacinths bloom in his peripheral.

He's certain now that he must've been losing his mind, or at least was on the verge of (and for such a childish cause at that) because he took shelter in a superstitious practice and ignored as many meals as he could in the futile hope that you'd come back and reprimand him again.

Ratio would have applauded you if he hadn't been so consumed by all those unsavory chemical reactions in his mind.

It didn't help his case that the first time he'd bothered to take in the environment, he was reminded of the fact that, you had others who'd accept you, but he only had you.

His frustration must've reached a new peak, because not even the most persistent of his irritable classmates were brave enough to approach him as he continued to brood hopelessly.

It wouldn't be long until he would gather the motivation to finally propel himself out of that dark space, but the method his younger self employed to do so, embarrasses the present him to no end.

“They did what?”

Veritas needn't open his eyes to picture your visage colored in shock, he opted instead to maintain his somber facade, arms folded, and brows furrowed to complete the act.

“But I never thought them to be that kind of person, quite the opposite, in fact.” followed your reluctant admission.

Ratio outstretched his palm as though enticing you to accept the news, “One can deduce so much about the ocean by gazing at its surface. The facts are before you, with substantial evidence. Whether you believe them or not depends entirely on you. I only thought I should inform you before it reaches the Principal, that is.”

He could envision your eyes oscillating between his firm countenance and the unseen prospects proposed by his words. Discreetly, he peered at your fidgeting and unconsciously held his breath.

He'd done the calculations before approaching you, the worry oozing from your gaze confirms that you've heard word of it from his ‘associates’ already and the fact that you didn't try to defend the person further tells him you've done some digging through the news portals of the university yourself.

Step by step, you've unknowingly assisted in concluding this problem.

The young scholar silences the quivers of his conscience before they can rage and foil all progress. As for this friend of yours, there were embers left behind from misdeeds of long ago. He merely reignited that flame so that those crimes would face proper punishment — although which was not his principal goal. To make sure you don't get caught in the inferno was, or at least, that's what he tells his conscience.

A half-resigned hum from you saves the scholar from spiralling, “I’ll believe you and will avoid them for the time being. Though I have my own theories, you have a point. There is no telling what is beneath a person's exterior.”

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

Your eyelashes flutter as you drift into a brief reverie, before fixating on his rigid person. “Ah, but what is going on with you, kiddo? You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?”

The young scholar blinks in stupefaction at the shrunken proximity between you two, the single finger beneath his chin with which you scrutinize his visage nearly burns his skin. He can hardly process what observation you're making through the dizzying fragrance of jasmines.

“I am in perfect health, as you can see—”

“For so long! It's only a matter of when that you'll faint while calculating nonsense.” you sharply interject and withdraw the searing contact. Strangely, Ratio makes no face this time.

“Come to think of it, it's been a while since we've had lunch together. Oh, I have so much to share with you! Let's not waste anymore time, let's go!”

There is good cause for why the wise warn against temptations. Bit by bit, piece by piece, oh so painfully obstinate — you fed him that poison, rendering his sharp mind a mess of inebriating chemical reactions.

You were none the wiser to the impact your fickle gestures made on him and soon, Ratio's biggest weakness, curiosity silenced the prodding of his conscience.

He gained little incentive to step far away from the leering shadows, as the brilliance of the sun made it so his fixation wouldn't stray towards the darkness.

iv. Tachisme

“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart. A man who is really great, it seems to me, must suffer considerably here below.”

Your sigh weighs down on the silence of the university's library, a dull thud causing a crack on it as you set down the tome on the dark wooden table.

“I couldn't help but think of you while reading this novel.” bright orange eyes watch the way you cushion your cheek against your knuckles minutely.

“Suffering, misery, sadness, whatever you name it is inconsequential to any human being. But I feel like, those who are labelled as being ‘different’ than the majority experience a certain kind of those challenges. The ones that are weighty on the tongue when they attempt to express it, perhaps inscrutable to even themselves.” Ratio mulls over your musings, briefly closing his eyes.

“Everyone’s experiences are bound to be different.” comes his easy response.

The furrow in your brows suggests the conflict his words stirred instead of assurance, “You take everything so coolly, but I can't help but worry for you. You may be calm and certain about everything now but there's no guarantee you'll always be this way. On top of it all, you reject close relationships, thus narrowing your options to lean on someone should a sizable problem come.” 

Ratio catches himself before his eyes can roll sideways, “Surely you didn't drag me out of a lecture just to nag me again?” his subconscious notes the reduced exasperation that prospect stirs within himself.

You often worry for a future that has yet to seize anyone. While the young scholar commends your far-sightedness, he really cannot understand the use of losing one's mind over events that haven't happened yet.

Thinking ahead is helpful, turning that habit into an obsessive frenzy is not.

He observes the way your frown expands, deepens and ultimately loosens up with a sigh. You refrain from broaching the topic further, another quality he appreciates.

Though you don't make an attempt to defend yourself, you refuse to voice out anything else as well, settling your eyes to a distant point in existence.

For once Veritas is ruffled by the silence, so he makes an attempt to change the subject — because counting your eyelashes isn't the most productive thing for a scholar to do.

“It’s not everyday I see you carrying something that doesn't have hearts and glitters on the cover page.” his eyes settle pointedly on the book before you.

You scoff, “One does not survive in Veritas Prime simply from reading light novels.” there's a trace of pride in your admission.

“Oh? So, what does ‘one’ do to maintain their spot in the top five?” Ratio quirks a brow, holding your gaze.

The witty response he anticipates gets replaced by another sigh, puzzling him for an instance, “I’m assuming this is about me never studying within campus. Well, I just like keeping my study space and my socializing space separate. Listening to lectures here and doing the heavy lifting in my room. It's what works for me, in any case.”

There's genuine interest in his next questions, “And what do you do when you get bored while studying? Or when you feel like you can't concentrate anymore?”

You twirl a stray lock of your hair, cheek still resting on your knuckles, “Take a bath to sober myself up, I guess. When your mind is full of garbage, your body will likely not be the cleanest either.”

You shrug, your nonchalant attitude renders his mind to a blank slate. For a while he does nothing but think about your words, though the response he gives matches none of the context.

“I feel like there is so much I don't know about you.”

It's your turn to be surprised, but unfortunately for Ratio, the sight is still too brisk. You break into a fit of laughter, wiggling your brows as though you know something.

“Silly little Veri, let me tell you something. People are like icebergs! We can only see their tips with our bare eyes but to know them in their full capacity, we have to dive down.”

“But the waters are cold.” the young scholar pushes.

Your giggles soften to a smile, “That’s exactly the point.” and you refuse to elaborate further, again.

To reach the heart of the iceberg, one must push through the freezing depths of the ocean. Whether Veritas Ratio has that willpower, is a question left for his future self.

v. Sotto in su

As the days lapsed, more and more memories anchored themselves in Ratio's mind. They brought with them a different seed of emotion, every exchange with his enigmatic senior nurtured and coaxed it to sprout tender leaves.

Before his syllabus could be replaced, the fact had been known to everyone regardless of their relation to the prodigy. If your recurring appearances in Ratio's life and his noticeable tolerance for your presence was anything to go by, it was apparent to anyone with a conscious mind that his opinion of you was at a level above everyone else's.

Exchanges between different years wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, but a friendship with the notoriously detached prodigy was an understandable bewilderment. Though, the students at Veritas Prime quickly learned to use it to their advantage rather than criticizing it — a unanimous realization that Ratio was just a bit more agreeable in your presence.

Not that Ratio was unaware of their schemes, the fact that they construed that he'd tolerate them solely because of your connection further cemented his belief that all these wannabe researchers were still light-years away from the truth they speak to seek.

Albeit, after noticing that he'd been more approachable for students who genuinely wanted to learn rather than to fulfill some pecuniary purpose — he begrudgingly admitted that, there was an influence taking place.

Veritas swiftly ignored the rumors. While not one to waste his time, being with you brought along perspectives that challenged his thinking style. To him, truth has always been beautiful because it will not change, even through the failures in understanding it.

But you're a human being, change is rooted in your constitution.

The cycle of erosion and accretion that makes you you hinders even a brilliant scholar like him in grasping the characteristics of your soul. This form of beauty he was not acquainted with before, admittedly.

Relying too much on either rigidity or malleability will pose problems. It is through the search of a balance can we discover the answers.

It may not be obvious at first glance, but you aspire to guide others through the murky depths of ignorance while pondering this apparent equilibrium — since neither extremes can be eliminated. As strange as that selflessness initially appeared to him, Ratio has developed a sense of respect for your ambitions.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it seemed as though you knew exactly what was transpiring.

In fact, you were conscious of a lot of things ; it's just that you preferred to pretend that you didn't for reasons that he hasn't comprehended yet.

For the longest time he interpreted that thoughtful sparkle in your eyes as just another play of light. Whenever his reactions to your teasing would come off as more animated than last and the flush that he'd try so hard to not let extend to his cheeks do just that — you'd have that nearly imperceptible realization reflected in your eyes. It scratched at the parchedness Ratio hadn't even recognized to be there.

His fear was confirmed to be true one afternoon in a vacant lecture hall, though not through words.

“Is this for me?” sunset orange eyes shone against the shadows that fell on his back.

“Well, do you see anyone else here?” your huff and his eyeroll synchronize.

You patiently held the book covered in elaborate illustrations of flowers for his taking, though what captured the scholar's attention most was the single yellow bloom tied atop with a violet ribbon on the book. He recognized the book to be a copy of the floriography manual he often saw tucked between your collections.

“You’re probably wondering ‘what value will this book bring to you’. Well, as I've said before, studious scholars should never limit their perspectives.” you almost shove the gift into his hands in response to his stunned countenance.

“And,” an accidental brush of your fingers against his hand sends an unwanted shudder through his arteries, “Happy birthday, little Veri.”

You withdraw just as quickly, the hues of the setting sun softening the smile on your face.

Ratio forces himself to look elsewhere, "You're still going to use that ridiculous nickname, huh? What a way to welcome me into adulthood." he mutters, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste that he tries to mask with sarcasm.

He feels your chuckle probing at his heart, taunting the quickened pace in which it revolts against its cage. You shift your gaze to the golden petals resting atop the book, a somber sigh tumbling from your lips.

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

Many see fit to celebrate their first step into adulthood with enthusiastic celebrations, Ratio's eighteenth birthday brought with it a clinging bittersweetness — not that he allowed himself to dwell on it for long, his future plans taking precedence over sentiments.

The lone daffodil had been tucked between a random section of the book you gifted, hidden away from his sight. The border between cowardice and courage was thin, nearly translucent in the manner the result dictated what it would turn out to be.

The journey of uncovering the mysteries of the universe is a similar pursuit. Emerge victorious and you'll be brave, fail and you'll be heralded foolish. Ratio was far from a coward or a foolish man, sometimes not going head-fast into uncertain territories is the mark of intelligence.

He allowed the daffodil to wilt and turned not a page, for he knew in some deep crevice of his subconscious that it'd blight the clarity of his mind with another flood of emotions he did not have the capacity to process.

Luckily, his agony met a premature end as you departed from Veritas Prime by the end of the year with a certificate in hand.

Who knows how many sleepless nights and crushed dreams paved the path for the ink lines on that single piece of parchment. Ratio had been there as the first to congratulate you, it was the least he could do.

He did not proceed farther than that, as you'd made it clear that there would forever be a line he would be unable to trespass.

Ratio was fully aware of the limitations the silly crush that accumulated over the time in your acquaintance brought and he expressed no interest in pushing those boundaries either.

He found solace in the fact that he'd met you at all. He wouldn't say you illuminated his life, for even you always believed it was the individual themselves who possessed that power.

You nudged him towards the path to find his light and that lesson, he wanted to honor all his life.

The memories of your time would stay treasured in his mind and the curve of your smile would be preserved in marble. Without the echo that his ears yearned to capture, he saw fit to isolate his senses from unnecessary stimulation.

Though you'd never grace the corridors of Veritas Prime again, the footprints of your presence etched deep in the genius's memories would never fade.

vi. Trompe l'oeil

His next encounter with you was a tad unexpected, just at the horizon of Ratio putting the full stop to his years at the university.

Veritas’s fingers slackened around the handle of his umbrella, a page or two of the manuscript of his thesis slipping past his grip and drifting along the roaring wind — but his eyes couldn't chase after them. Much too fixated on the way your shoulder bumped with theirs, not at all by accident.

The rain soon cloaked your figures from his spying gaze, the droplets soaking the ends of his clothes failed still to snatch his attention away. In spite of the thunderous cries of the sky, the echo of your laugh was all he could hear.

—

Time never ceased its relentless march; life followed its direction and events moulded more memories.

For the sake of productivity, he had no choice but to push back his curiosity and stay away from your life. His studies and workload helped generously in keeping his mind from wandering to frightful territories at inconvenient instances, though a certain spark nestled deep somewhere in his subconscious.

Before long, his name resounded far beyond the gates of Veritas Prime.

Veritas Ratio, now Dr. Ratio, felt his nerves flare again as he looked at the latest discussions on the university’s online forum, the words “Dr. Ratio Will Surely Snag A Place At The Genius Society, Won’t He?” in bold only tickled his annoyance further.

Ordinarily, he would stay as far away as possible from discussions concerning himself — which was easier said than done.

Aggrandizing anything always leads to disappointment. Ratio's surroundings loved to goad his path, but he knew, such chatter would morph to whispers the moment their expectations were proven false.

Dr. Ratio’s brooding came to a halt at the collision, his reflexes acted and he clasped onto the stranger’s arm before they could fall. He heard leaves crunching under his boots, strangers threw cursory glances at the near-accident. 

His lips parted in what a spectator could assume to be the beginning of an apology, but paused upon noticing the words resignation letter on the paper in the stranger's grasp.

Orange eyes flickered, trailing upward, within the fabric of scarlet you burrowed deep in search of comfort from the scare.

You mimicked his earlier attempt, craning your neck for a second to meet his gaze and halting in recognition.

“Veritas… Ratio?”

The addressed scholar blinks, blurting out before he could think, “That’s not what you used to call me.”

There's a scintilla of surprise in your eyes at his unintentional jest, he anticipates a laugh next, but only an awkward quirk of your lips greets him.

Your eyes dart around your environment, before returning to his grasp. Feeling the weight of your stare, he releases his hold with a fake cough.

“I… apologize.” his hand found refuge on the nape of his neck.

“It’s okay, accidents... happen, you know.” you wave him off with your free hand.

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

It might've just been Ratio’s misjudgement, but he felt as if you were about to run away for a millisecond. Your fingers tightened around the paper in your hold, you gathered yourself with a deep inhale.

“Congratulations on obtaining your fourth doctorate degree! I often discuss your papers in my classes, you are an inspiration to so many people.”

A flicker of sunlight filtered through the leaves above fell and there appeared that smile he knew. Years had gone by, yet the mystery in it remained still out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he tilted his head downward, “I’m glad to hear that you pursued your dream.”

Ratio sneaked a glance, your nod faded into silence. His gaze lingered on your face, the concentrated flush on your right cheek made his brows furrow.

He was no fool to the tension in the air and your unusual fidgety demeanor. He briefly contemplated if he should just depart.

However, he couldn't deny the fact that questions had accumulated throughout the interval of your absence from his life. The differences between the you before him and the you from his memories begged him to probe, to study and learn.

He felt himself drawn to the paper in your hand again, a glint on your ring finger caught his eye. Among the myriad of inquiries battling to escape his lips, the one that’d warred the longest emerged victorious.

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

Your flighty gaze froze to confusion for a moment as you tried to decode his words, Ratio mirrored your gaze as you failed to answer. You quickly blinked away any hints of shock, a forceful bite stopped the trembling of your lips.

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

“Can we… talk somewhere else?” you suggested. Despite it being the middle of autumn, there's a storm brewing in your eyes. 

—

Veritas could see splinters on the cup in his grip, the dark beverage within threatening to spill.

A passing waitress threw the table a concerned glance, but could not find the courage to intervene. The sight of your antsy wringing of hands in his peripheral alerted him to breathe. He loosened his grip on the poor cup of coffee just in time, a burdened exhale following suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So, what do you intend to do now?”

You fiddled with the band on your ring finger ; within the vacancy of the cafe, to Ratio, it felt as if even such an insignificant gesture gained voice.

The insistence of your silence prompted him to continue, “The culmination of your hard-work, one that stole almost all of your life ; all of those sleepless nights, unsaid sacrifices for the sole wish of helping others — all of it, you're going to let go, just like that? Just because an idiot claims they know better?”

Dr. Ratio could not understand, no matter which angle he looked at it from. The answer to your dilemma was crystal clear to the scholar, he’d be willing to bet it’d be clear to anyone with a functioning brain — and yet, you hesitate.

You continue to shuffle and avert your gaze, sometimes parting your lips to speak but withdrawing the next second.

A person that's found the tunnel’s end should run towards it, but you remain at the precipice of darkness.

“I…” The purple head straightens up at the sound of your voice, it is weak, hopeless ; a complete stranger to who you once were.

You abruptly gather your things, “I’m sorry, please forget I ever said anything —” an innocent glass is knocked off in your haste.

Cold, your hand is chillingly cold as Ratio grabs it, preventing you from running away. The unnatural temperature of it temporarily unsettles the man, but the situation at hand prompts him to push the observation back.

You try to force your wrist out of his grasp, but he presses on, “Can’t you see, that they are ruining you? This is not who you used to be! Your so-called 'fiance' is destroying you, they’ll not stop until you're nothing but a shell of yourself and they can reshape you to their liking!”

“I really have to go —” a vein pops on Ratio’s forehead, the wanton glass hits the floor.

“And why go? To receive another slap from them?” he feels your palm dampen from sweat, pieces of shattered crystal splaying across the tiles.

You look at him in disbelief and he blinks, the sharpness of his words finally cutting him.

The incipiency of an apology gathers at the tip of his tongue, but you halt it from escaping.

“Whatever happens between us, is none of your business, Veritas Ratio.”

If your hand was simply cold, your glare is freezing. It stuns the scholar enough to make his clasp loosen, you quickly snatch your hand away.

You’re two steps in when Veritas rushes to add, unwilling to back down, “But it was still you who reached out to me.”

The scholar hears the pause in your heels, you don't turn to address him and he doesn't move to obstruct your path either.

The bell signals your departure as the waitress from before rushes to clean the broken glass, leaving Ratio alone with his thoughts.

—

Veritas Ratio has had scarce attachments to worry about in his life.

For better or for worse, it appeared as though the direction of his life was steered towards one particular destination, everything else proved to be transient.

While his surroundings eroded and flourished within the touch of mortal delights, he remained but a spectator, destined to observe but never indulge.

Love. A simple word, yet any singular meaning behind which could still not be agreed upon.

He saw it in the way parents cradled their children, in the eyes of a couple that brushed past him in the streets. Flighty like the union between another pair of his former classmates, strengthened like the wrinkly hold of that couple that sold flowers down the street ; its form, just like its definition, is infinite.

The scholar thinks he's felt it somewhere in his past, or at least the vestiges of it — within the glow of a cryptic smile and a mind that did not yield.

Troublesome as it’d been, it did not conquer him. Ultimately, he wielded enough willpower to move on.

Some say, brilliant minds that toil too long in the territories of the unknown, become dense to the simpler aspects of life. Ratio did not see the inconvenience in this notion for a long time, not when it aided him more than burden him.

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

If nothing else, it was clear to the prodigy that you had changed, for the worst at that.

The 'you' he’d known would know how to pick yourself up, or more accurately, that ‘you’ wouldn't have allowed things to escalate this far at all.

You would've left this rotten excuse of a relationship the first time they raised their voice, you would never concede to that fatal act of disrespect, under no circumstance would you let such an excuse of a human have such control — he… he hoped.

Ratio leaned back in his chair, a frown creeping in to his face.

For all these outrageous claims that he's been making of the you he was familiar with, how much did he actually know?

Is a year’s observation enough to grant him that badge of familiarity?

It is as you said, who is he to judge you at all?

Within the gloom of his study, his eyes unconsciously met with those etched in marble, the curve of a sun-kissed smile. He hand moved on its own, turning the table-lamp towards the sculpture and indeed, the light has always suited you more than him.

His recollections backtrack to the hazy gaze he saw that day, the encumbrance in them hoisting him up to chase after the itch for answers.

An uncounted number of hours passed, only after perusing a decent pile of tomes did it finally click in his head.

Ratio had no excuses or motivation to defend himself, he most certainly handled the situation poorly.

When the average attempts of leaving such relationships is between seven and twelve, it was insensitive of him to confront you like that.

Cognitions clouded in rage, he ignored the questions he should've asked, the sense of security he should've provided — the one you sought from him — and cornered you abruptly.

Foolish foolish foolish — he felt his fingers tug at his hair, breaths stuck in his lungs. Rationale does not always succeed in helping others see reason, how could he be so careless with you, of all people?

He didn't even know what stage of this hell you were at, how many times you’ve attempted to leave and what leverage they have over you.

Well, it would be most accurate to say he didn't know anything at all and yet, he arrogantly told you to 'just leave'.

The purple-head forced himself to breathe, the self-loathing could be shelved for a later day, what's more important now is finding you again.

He stood up from the heap of tomes, only to pause, does he deserve to seek you out again?

He betrayed your trust and you shut him off for good, should he even bother now?

A distant tug held him back.

Much like before, there is that line between you two that he cannot cross, must not cross.

He’s no longer a teenager in documents, but he doubts you see him as anything more than that ‘little Veri’.

—

The echoes of passing vehicles ricocheted around the streets, but Dr. Ratio’s attention stayed transfixed on the ivory petals in front of him.

A week or so had passed, the ruminations of those doubts kept him away from the confrontation and stole his nights.

It would be easy to cure this ailment, finding you would be but a matter of a few swipes. But that uncertainty, the ghost of a past insecurity, clung to his resolve. As such, peace abandoned him for a while.

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

He hummed without much thought, sunset orange eyes tracing the dulcet lines in those blooms. 

“ ‘My regrets will follow you to the grave’, it's not everyday you see someone looking at these flowers with such care.”

If anyone looked straight into the scholar’s eyes at that moment, they'd for sure be able to witness the cogs turning in his brain in them.

Ratio finds you startled once he whips to his left, your presence finally registering in his head.

A prayer, a yearning, your name escapes his lips. But any further speech is obstructed from taking shape.

You’re the first to recover, “I apologize for running away like that the other day. It… was cowardly of me to tell you to mind your own business when I was the one who confided in you first.” your head lowers in appeal.

He’s sure of it now, you must be on the quest of giving him a heart-attack, what with these continuous surprises you’re throwing at him.

Well, if not a fatality, they're at least doing a wondrous job in preventing him from processing the fact in its entirety — you're here, you’re here, you're here.

You found him, again. Just like all those years ago in the lecture hall, all those times he was skipping lunch, on his eightieth birthday and that other day ; it was always you finding him.

(Has he ever broken through his pride and cowardice and tried to find you instead?)

The scholar hastens to join you, “No, it was my incompetence in failing to understand your situation that pushed you to leave. I completely failed to provide you with safety when you trusted me. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

He couldn't see it, but he could picture your disbelief at his behavior. Your fist mirrored his, “No, it was clearly my stupidity—”

“Nonsense!” his exclamation earned him a flinch from you. He subconsciously straightened up to drive his point across, “It was me who —”

In the hurry and flurry of emotions, your head bumped with his, ending his tirade prematurely.

Your eyes settle on him, a car runs past your perplexed figures and then, the streets get cloaked in quietude ; before being filled with your giggle.

Against his control, his lips twitch and laughter bubbles in his chest. He allows them to gain voice and join yours.

You fan your face with your hand as the chuckles skid to an end, Ratio feels his cheeks warmed when he inhales. But none of you bother addressing the previous argument, its result apparent.

You take a deep breath and exhale. The scholar sees sun-glitter in your pupils, “I left them, by the way.”

That sobers him.

“Your…”

“Fiancé, yes. Or well, ex-fiancé now.” as if on cue, Ratio catches your now vacant ring finger.

“They tried to beg me to stay. But to be honest, it was not the first time they appealed to my sympathy.” you find interest in the pavement, searching for the remnants of your memories in their cracks. 

“... But I really put my foot down this time. And oh, I didn't quit my job either, in case you were wondering.” you heave, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And where are you residing now — if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m temporarily staying at a friend's house. Don't worry, I’m at a safe place.” you reassure, detecting the underlying concern in his inquiry.

Ratio’s shoulders sag as he exhales, the receding adrenaline dulling his worries. Turns out you didn't really need his help, not that he's astonished. It was in your nature to extend help towards others but thinking twice before asking for help.

(Although he's in no position to criticize, he so wished that you’d find it in yourself to rely on him a bit more.)

“If you ever need anything, just give me a call or a text. You still have my number, correct?” he glances down to gauge your expression.

When you nod, he murmurs a faint ‘good’ and silence takes over. He contemplates if he should add anything else, but the serenity in the atmosphere prompts him to push back those concerns.

“Well, goodbye for today?” you suggest, snapping him back to reality.

He raises his hand to do just that, but a different thought alarms him.

“Let me walk you home.” he pushes back the cringe at the excess firmness to his tone, rushing to add, “Please?”

For a blink or two, you looked at him as though you’ve just sighted an alien. He assumes it's the ‘out-of-character’ tendencies he’s been portraying that has you double-check. It seems that he was not the only one comparing the present and the past.

Luck appeared by his side — or perhaps it was just your pity — and you conceded without any complaint, letting him join your steps. The scholar barely hid his glee through his gait.

The planet that housed Veritas Prime would get decorated in the lovely shades of ripened maple leaves around this time. Civilians gathered in groups beneath these scenes, some enjoying a leisurely picnic, others focused on getting their desired pictures.

Ratio noticed your wanton glance at a pair on a picnic mat, his lips tugging down at the tell-tale signs of where your thoughts ran towards.

But before he could do anything, you turned away and picked up your pace ; the pair’s laughter but background noise.

With some haste, he caught up to you. Racking his brain to distract your mind, he found himself empty-handed.

Four doctorates and yet, his mind goes blank when he needs it the most. He couldn't be any more disappointed in himself.

Just as he’s about to start a mental berating though, you side-step a rock and Ratio’s hand bumps with yours, their frigidity alerting him.

He stops in his tracks, and you do too, looking up quizzically at him.

He extends his palm, “Give me your hand,”

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

“It’s too cold. Are you certain you aren't sick?” he thinks back to the encounter he had with you at the cafe, the chill he felt when he grasped your hand. He initially thought it a coincidence, but now, he was really concerned.

“Ahh, this, you see,” you flex your fingers, a feeble attempt at warming them up. “My hands kind of respond to the temperature? Don't ask because I don't know exactly why either, during winter, they're usually cold like this. But in summer, they're very warm.”

Ratio quirks a brow, “Just the fact that it tends to happen doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, does it?”

“No…” you trail off, “But! That's what my fiance— I mean, ex-fiance would always tell me, to just get used to it.”

Your eyes flicker back to Ratio’s, the disbelief in them telling you enough of what you need to know.

The scholar ran a hand through his hair, he shuddered to ponder what other garbage they had fed your brain.

His sigh is carried by a passing breeze, “It’s okay. They aren't here to dictate your life anymore.” he once again offers you his hand, another hope-filled prayer.

You look at his extended palm and back to his patient gaze, your fingers fisting in themselves for a moment before loosening.

He sees the ebb and flow of doubt and hope in their movements, inching closer and closer to his.

He cradles your hand when it reaches him, your fingers slipping easily through the gaps of his. The difference in temperature alerts his reflexes for a second before he calms them down.

He stuffs your intertwined hands in his coat pocket — your gasp fades behind you as he resumes his gait.

Ratio does not dare glance in your direction, but he knows you're watching, scrutinizing him. It reminds him of the look you had at the end of your university days, the memory of the incident that followed makes his throat parched.

Your grip is unusually weak, combined with the knowledge of your situation, the scholar can't stop himself from adding.

“Have you been eating well? Tell me if you haven't, I'll take you to have a proper meal. But don't lie about these matters, you can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of yourself first.”

You freeze at his words and Ratio makes the mistake of returning your stare.

Seeing no change in his serious expression though, you shake your head with a chuckle, assuring him of your health.

The clicking of both of your shoes against the pavement is the only thing keeping his heart-beat at bay, his attention from focusing too much on the feel of your hand in his and the myriad of chemical reactions flooding his reward system.

When the coldness in your hand has been completely replaced with the warmth from his, you gesture to him that you’ve reached your destination.

He feels an unexpected reluctance in letting you go, something in his gut pushing him to hold on — but he ignores it.

You pause before opening the gates, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

He looks up in time to see your smile, it's not like all those times you’ve smiled before — no, no. This time, lilac petals cling to its corners.

Ratio covered his mouth with his hand, hiding the stupid curve of his lips from anyone's eyes. The lingering warmth from your hand finally allowed his heart to beat with fervor.

He wanted nothing more than to give you a bouquet of bluebells at that moment.

vii. Sfumato

The day Dr. Ratio returned to your side with the pledged bluebells, was beautiful.

The canopy of winter had begun to be swept aside as nascent leaves heralded spring, twitters of birds ornamented the breeze.

When fresh fountain ink meets parchment, it spreads with a thin halo of blue — the sky of that moment brought back this image in his mind. The sun found amusement in steering behind ivory clouds ; a cheeky, one sided game of hide and seek played with light and dark.

The sun made a mistake, a sidestep allowed rays to escape and fall on the lace ribbon of the bouquet.

Sun-glitter followed the lead of Ratio’s arm, over the arch of his wrist, finding their way from beneath the crevices of his fingers — shining, glimmering, as lapis petals caressed the tombstone.

How strange, didn't it usually rain and roar for scenes like these in those light novels of yours?

Veritas could not feel his breaths, it's as if the mechanisms of his respiratory system halted for that matter, he couldn't even feel his eyes flutter.

Idiocy.

He contemplated turning away altogether, what was he even thinking, bringing bluebells to the cemetery like a young lover?

A dead leaf crunched from his retreating step, the note stunning him in place.

Perhaps he should've brought the chopped off, bleeding excuse of a skull of that man — if only, if only if only any being, any listening existence in this wretched world would reassure him that it’d bring you back. 

The scholar felt his fingers lax from their cocoon, but he knew, that would be impracticable. If a life for a life resurrected the other, his fingers wouldn't tremble in usurping that leverage and bringing justice to your final moments.

But he knew, oh how the erudite scholar despised knowledge for the first time in his life — that it’d soothe him, but leave a hollow far worse in his heart.

A sigh forced its way past his lips, onerous was its euphony. Windswept locks of violet poked at the way crystalline orange held onto the engraving on the silver stone ; the name, once his boon, now his bane.

Splinters of marble flew, papers, pens, innocent objects were tossed aside like fickle trash. Rouge flecked once pristine alabaster. Midst the carnage, a book fell betwixt Veritas’s path.

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

Newspapers and channels boldly flashed the incident for a week — individual apprehended for the charge of murdering their ex-fiancé — before being swallowed by other, more fascinating pieces of events.

Ratio found himself scoffing at their tone, picking apart their every word and spacing, frowning at how quick people's interest moved on.

Indeed, the world waits for none. The ones lingering are always tormented.

With the last person in close association with you behind the bars of the psych ward and your acquaintances grieving, the scholar took it upon himself to deliver your files and belongings to your family.

But that decision turned out to be a lesson, the universe once again pointing out without mercy the mediocrity of his knowledge.

“Does that mean we’ll have to turn to the streets now?” whispered a little too loudly, a little too carelessly, your step-mother to your father.

Ignorance.

Perhaps Ratio’s disbelief had been too loud on his face, for your father shushed her quickly and attempted to smooth over the slip-up with a barely-strung lament.

But the scholar had learned what was to be surmised from this family, all of their next speeches effortlessly ignored by him.

So the reason you ultimately didn't quit your job was for them, Veritas's eyes dimmed. Feelings were never his forte, this messy heap of them he had no clue what to do with.

And the siblings you used to so dearly miss back in your university days? The second-oldest after you put back her headphones after he finished delivering the news and the youngest couldn't even recall your name.

Ratio seldom used the phrase, but it was truly a miracle he left that fetid establishment without causing damage.

He decided against disclosing your remaining belongings to them and instead, gave them away for charity as written in a journal he accidentally stumbled upon while sorting through them.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this would happen.

But you refused to confide in anyone, tolerating the farce of a content life.

Ratio could not understand, did not even know where to begin in decoding what was going through your head when you lied to him and what had coerced him into believing it.

Of course you didn't leave them, that would've been too perfect and too merciful an end and clearly, the universe would not allow it. Of course he needed to be shown how much of an idiot he still is, the extent of his wishful thinking.

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

But did you deserve to meet such an end? No, your life shouldn't have been shaped this way to begin with! And yet, it had been.

For long did he stare off into vacant space, casting aside the need for slumber, attempting to answer what was to be done now. The silence beckoned him, that it was nothing.

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

Perhaps the craving for this serenity was what had prompted you from not fighting off that axe.

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

When the haze in his head cleared a bit, he visited your grave again. Dust had gathered on the lifeless petals of the bluebells he’d left, the scholar tenderly rid them from the surface.

He dug a section beside your resting place and planted fresh asphodels. An elderly woman saw the scene in passing but did not comment, pity clung at the edges of her eyes.

Foolishness.

In fear of the tides of time burying the traces of your foot-steps, Ratio chased after them. The places you spoke so fondly of, the flowers and stories you cherished and the students you stood proud beside.

They spoke of your passion, your vision and your resilience to him.

They say, even a lifetime of ‘knowing’ someone is not sufficient in knowing them.

Although he’d known you for a miniscule timeframe, he squandered no effort in trying to understand you. Only at this juncture, did your nature become clear to him. You were an expert in keeping your lips shut, a seasoned performer of half-truths and no stranger to the art of survival.

It was no coy act, you trusted no one with your actual thoughts and motivations — that was the naked truth.

So then, it begs the question, what exactly did you try so hard to eradicate?

Supposing that this universe suffers from a common ailment, and it is so persistent, so adhesive, so elusive that it plagues the dullest to the most brilliant mind — that despite all attempts at curing it, only its surface has been scratched. And this truth had been so frustrating, even you could not stand back.

Ratio tapped his fingers against his desk, what other malady does an educator aspire to cure other than ignorance?

Foolishness? Idiocy? Stupidity? All synonymous, yet capable of clasping and corrupting irrespective of a person’s standing in the path of life.

To rid them, scholars, researchers and teachers attempt to disseminate knowledge with the vow of indiscrimination.

But Dr. Ratio knew, the oasis of knowledge is but a mirage in the desert of ignorance. For the populace to reach that base awareness, to recognize that mirage — that, is what is needed.

The scholar saw the early light of dawn from betwixt the crevices of his window, the hinges groaned as he pushed them open and for the first time — the sun embraced him and the shadows fell behind his form.

But the meteor that briefly illuminated his sky, is gone — as tends to be their destiny. He can do nothing but carry the memories of its glow.

—

Light glinted over the edge of the cone, approaching footsteps reminded the doctor to tuck it away from prying eyes.

Ratio tsk-ed upon feeling the absence of his headpiece, cracks on the alabaster had demanded a remake.

The scholar’s eyes met with the ones cradling the remnants of a bygone sunset, melting into hues of ocean blue.

“Doc! Didn't expect to see you here.” drawled an unfortunately familiar man. Ratio offered a blink in greeting.

“Yes, how astonishing it is to see a member of the Intelligentsia Guild in its corridors.” the doctor muttered plainly, the Stoneheart in the spotlight merely maintained his smile.

Ratio noticed his other hand to be occupied, “And what about you? Busy squandering your time as usual, gambler?”

Contrary to his expectations, the quirk of Aventurine’s lips widened as though he’d struck gold, he smoothed over the lapels of his suit. The erudite scholar subconsciously braced himself for whatever trick was to be brought next.

“Now now, it's not squandering if you're spending it with a dear person.” he winked.

Veritas caught a silhouette peeking from behind the blonde, “Meaning?”

“Ah, how uncourteous of me.” though there's a note of glee in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to…”

Dr. Ratio observed as a figure emerged from Aventurine’s shadow, the passing question of how he hadn't noticed them sooner was pushed aside as they joined the Stoneheart in the spotlight.

“My dearest, precious jewel or— how did you prefer it again? Hmm I can't seem to remember~” an elbow to his side and huff broke through his theatrics ; the vacant halls gained life through laughter, petrichor bloomed in their notes.

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

A meteor crossed the orbit of Ratio’s life again.

© harmonysanreads | do not cross-post, translate, plagiarise, copy on a different platform or use my works to train ai.

Thank you so much for reading!

TAGLIST : @abyssmal-skies @danijaci @birdloverr @teabutmakeitazure @cherriiirose @bleh09 @scurfi @justcallmemidnight @mochinon-yah @feral-ish @lavandulawrites @persicipen @stickyspeckledlight

[jjkbambi]

is it new years yet? luigi mangione x reader (18+)

summary!!! you run into ex-boyfriend!luigi mangione at a nye party! smut!

warnings: fratboy!luigi, darkfic (very much implied he slips something in ur drink), cnc?, long fic, mentions of calvin harris music, inspired by the fact that he had to nominate himself to win this category

the new year was meant to feel different.

yet, the doors at phi kappa psi open for you and a chances of anything more seems to slim. a record number of beer cans trashed in the hallway, the kitchen buried in chaos, and the overwhelming stench of beer clings to the air, impossible to ignore. you were surprised at how easily they’d let you enter—the bouncer was known for being a bit mean, strict on names and IDS and ages and sorority associations, yet one short smile was enough to get you and your best friend, lacy, into their annual new years eve party.

there wasn’t a second break from avicii or calvin harris, the crowd bouncing with red solo cups in hand. about a dozen of drinks were spilled on you already, and you were sure this was an indicator of a good night.

“is that him?” your friend’s nudge proves your prophecy wrong. your stomach drops immediately as you turn to the direction she was staring in—and yes, there he was, shirtless and six-packed on new year’s eve, surrounded by his pack of fraternity brothers.

the world suddenly feels so much smaller. you turn quickly. “lacy, he cannot see me.”

“have you spoken since the breakup?”

“if i had, id be in classier heels,” you retort, shaking your head.

you show her the reason you’ve been off your phone so much recently. about 34 days since you’ve seen each other in person, and a stunning 78 texts and 29 missed calls left in lieu of a breakup conversation. it honestly felt like too little an amount considering how long you’d been dating, but perhaps that was the least of your relationship problems, seeing as though you’d caught him making out with another girl at a football game.

she groans. “why’d we have to come to this house?”

“free entry? fireworks?” you come up with a lie that’ll make the both of you feel better. “i honestly don’t think we’ll run into each other. it’s such a big place.”

“he’s walking over here.”

“aaand we’re moving,” you sing, dragging her into the crowd of calvin harris enjoyers. for two hours, slipping in and out of the chaos seemed to be a surefire solution in avoiding your ex-boyfriend. that is, until you turn and suddenly your best friend isn’t there. you stiffen immediately, backing into the kitchen. in that step back, you bump shoulders.

“y/n,” an all too familiar voice says.

oh for fucks sake.

you smile tightly at the sight of luigi, trying not to make this already awkward situation more awkward. he looks different than he did the last time you’d seen him. his usually short hair had grown out longer, his beard more prominent. he looks… grown.

“hey!” you say, attempting to make a swift getaway. “happy new year, man!”

“get back here.” he grabs your wrist, pulling you right back to him. “what’re you doing?”

“it’s new years!”

“what are you doing here? wearing that?”

you smile, feigning innocence. “getting a re-fill!”

luigi’s eyes were dark and his grip firm. your air of innocence is almost completely defeated at his warmth, his body leaning into you, intent. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

no, you can’t do it. this was gonna be a new year for you. no setbacks, no cheating ex-boyfriends.

“i’m surprised you even noticed, with all your other distractions.”

luigi’s head tilts. “what does that mean?”

“you know what it means.” you pull away from him with as much force as possible. “seriously, lu, it’s over.”

“no, it’s not.” he argues. you shake your head as you walk away. “y/n, we’ve got to talk about this—“

“just leave me alone!” you leap out of the kitchen as soon as opportunity arrives, and pour the entirety of what’s left of your cup into your mouth. the wicked sting of alcohol had never been so relieving.

minutes pass but the sound of avicii is constant. phi kappa psi has promised fireworks and began to gather in the backyard and you want nothing more than to join in on the party—but lacy. your best friend. you need to find her. the recovery mission begins with a stumble down the hallway and a headache. it’s more than a headache, it all of a sudden feels like you reallyreallyreally need to take a nap.

“hey, hey, i’ve got you,” it’s luigi again. you can tell by his warmth and his scent and the way he grabs your hand. “where are you going?”

“lacy.”

he takes the drink out of your hand, then lifts your arms to wrap them around his neck. and suddenly, the warmth of his body isn’t so intimidating anymore. “that’s not my name.”

“i know.”

he leans in closer. “come on then, what’s my name?”

“lu,” you murmur. “i need to go.”

“you’re not going anywhere.” luigi promises you.

within a second, his lips are on yours, and suddenly his warmth is everywhere. you whimper into the kiss, trying to spell out protest but you’re too weak. “relax for me,” he tells you.

you were entirely too relaxed. any reasonable part of you wouldn’t allow for him to be this close. but before you can stop him, his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you. he’s so hard.

“i love this dress on you,” he murmurs.

desperate, you try to push, “no, no, we need to find—”

“we’re taking care of her, too, baby, don’t worry.”

you squirmed underneath his touch, which only made the friction hotter. “what?”

he doesn’t care to tell you anything more grinding into your resistance mercilessly as his hands clamp around your hips, rocking your body back and forth on his thigh.

“you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, you know,” he grumbles into the kiss, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle in your core. every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasp when he goes to nip at the sensitive skin of your neck. “walking around my house dressed like a fuckin’ slut. got me all worked up in front of everyone.”

you despise the helplessness that washes over you as he holds you down. tears sting at your eyes as you beg, “lu, stop.”

“pull your dress up,” he orders, drinking in your scent. his scruff scratches your skin.

“no.” you shake your head again, though his kisses are persistent. “luigi, we can’t.“

“you’re right,” luigi agrees, chuckling into another kiss. “i’m not fuckin’ sharing you.”

his lips don’t leave yours—theyre all over your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your tits—as he carries you into the nearest room, and you’re too lost in the moment to notice whether it’s his own. your dress hits the floor and his hands are all over your nude. the mix of confusion and pleasure leaves you breathless. before you can process it, you’re on the bed with your ex-boyfriend on top of you.

“you know how many other guys were looking at you tonight?” he growls as he flips you over. “swear ill fucking kill them”

he was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made luigi laugh. a choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time.

“fuckin’ knew it,” lu groans. your teeth sink into your lips as you tremble underneath him, his hard length relentless in its assault. “knew you’d take it f’me like this, yeah? like a good fuckin’ girl.”

the bed shook beneath you as he pounded into you. he goes to bite your neck, his curls tickling your skin. he feels so good, but the weight of how wrong it is lingers in every touch. “lu,” you moan.

“what?” he says, smug. “what d’ya wanna say?”

“it hurts,” you whine.

”i don’t care,” luigi says in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “you know how fuckin’ long it’s been since ive had you? no, you’ve got no clue. drove myself crazy thinking i’d never have this pretty pussy again.”

“it’s your fault—“

“shut the fuck up.” his hand comes down hard on your ass and a whimper slips from your lips. he growls low, feeling how tight you’re holding him. “you’re mine,” he grunts. “don’t you ever forget that.”

“luigi, wait,” you moan, your mind going blank. it’s too much—wrong in every way, yet too good to resist.

you feel him smirk against your neck. despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length as a flood gushes from your trembling core. he chuckles darkly, mocking your resistance. “can’t take it? too much?”

“lu, please.” your voice was embarrassingly breathless. he goes faster, which felt entirely impossible.

he must’ve heard the plea this time, because he doubled his efforts. he picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand went to massage your clit. you could hardly breathe.

“so good,” he groans. “be a good girl and cum for me, princess. all over me, come on.”

“please,” you whimper again. you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but it hardly mattered. the most devastating orgasm of your life was building deep within you, an unstoppable force growing stronger with every moment—and you were desperate to chase it.

“you’re all fucking mine,” he laments. “i wanna hear you say it.”

you couldn’t possibly. your mind goes blank as he ruts into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the room and almost drowning out the sound of the new year celebration.

“tell me what i wanna hear.” he demands.

“yours,” you mewl.

“good girl.” he bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. he fucks you harder, faster, slamming into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave a mark inside you.

you couldn’t take it anymore. your pride snaps inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating his massive cock in your cunt. pleasure consumes you until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else. he groans at the sight of your orgasm, his cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.

luigi grumbled a soft, “fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock deep into your still pulsing cunt as he came. he let out a long moan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

“i’m so glad you came around, so glad,” he murmurs, turning you over to kiss you over and over and over again. “i love you, baby, you know that, right?”

the day after

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader (past)

Summary: After last years incident you don't know if you can move on, but Wanda shows you how real love feels.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, Nat cheats

AU: Pietro is alive :D

Author's note: Merry Christmas! I wasn't planning on making another fic for Christmas, but I was listening to Christmas music while wrapping and well here you go~

Snow was gently falling in New York making everything feel more magical. All the decor was up, the tree fully lit at the Rockefeller center and people were bustling more than usual to get their Christmas shopping done. 

You were trying to pick a gift out for your secret Santa, Wanda. Tony did this every year for his holiday party. You really weren't in the mood for it this year, but you were trying…after last Christmas things didn't feel as magical. 

Last Year

“Come on Tasha! We're gonna be late if you take any longer on your make-up!” You playfully called out. She smirked at you through the mirror. 

“Don't worry Detka, we'll make it.” Her sultry voice wrapped around you. You looked her over as she stood; a tight short black dress, tights, heels to match. Her hair was pulled into a fancy braid she'd mentioned the name of earlier, but you couldn't remember it. 

The party was in full swing by the time you two arrived. You were in fact upset about it because Natasha knows how you hate to be late because of your anxiety. As soon as you set your gift on the table for secret Santa Natasha was gone in the crowd. Interacting with the boys and Maria. You frowned, but went to grab some finger foods and a drink while you found the twins and Vision. The three of them are talking about experiencing Christmas for the first time. 

You sat yourself next to Wanda with the boys across the table on another couch. The four of you talking for a bit before you realized Natasha hadn't come to find you. 

A pout covered your mouth as you got up, “I'll be back guys I'm gonna go check on Tasha.” You excused yourself making your way through the crowd of people, looking everywhere until in the corner of your eye, her dress caught your eye. Your head turning and the glass in your hand falling with a sharp crash to the tiled floor. 

Natasha was kissing Maria. 

You were noticed by many including Natasha who looked like she had regret on her face. Not for the kiss itself, but because she was caught. 

You walked out of that party and didn't look back. 

Present Day

You got yourself ready, looking over yourself in the mirror and then at the clock. You'd be a little early which was perfect. You grabbed your gift for Wanda. It was perfect for her. It was a few different things. 

Tony never had limits on how much to spend. If you got him as your secret Santa you could expect a car or a new place to live.

You got there, hugging Tony with a smile. “I'm surprised you decided to actually come. You even have your gift!” Tony said surprised. You gave him a roll of your eyes. 

“Yeah I wasn't sure if I'd come at first after last year I felt sick thinking about it and about seeing her. I gave her my heart Tony…she gave it away. I decided if I did come this year then…I'd give it to someone special…” you explained to him. Tony was like your annoying older brother. You told him a lot of your problems and he was happy to listen. 

He gave you another hug, a nice tight one where you could smell his cologne clearly, making your nose scrunch up a bit.

“Go get her.” He whispered before letting go. 

It was hours into the party. You'd spent the whole time with the twins. Vision had gone off to talk with Tony at some point and now it was time for secret Santa. You got up, grabbing your gift to Wanda and you were surprised to see she had you as well.

The two of you laughed, deciding to go find her old room in the tower so you two could have a quiet moment to open each other's gifts. 

You both sat across from each other, she was cross legged in her usual black skirt and thigh highs, a low cut tank top and a dark gray cardigan fell off one shoulder that she kept fixing. Rings adorned all her fingers, some having multiple. You smiled as you gave her your gift. 

“Open yours first Wands.” You insisted, making her giggle which had your stomach doing flips. Biting the inside of your cheek to try to hide the effect the witch had on you. 

She opened up the bag that contained a few wrapped gifts. 

“You didn't have to get me so much.” She said with her honeyed accent. 

“I couldn't decide…they all felt like they were perfect for you.” You saw the barely There blush that covered her cheeks as she refused to look up from unwrapping. 

You'd gotten her a new mug that said village witch with a little graphic of a witches hut, the smoke coming out of it a ghost. The next gift was a variety pack of different teas from around the world. The last gift you'd gotten her was a new set of tarot cards. 

“Oh y/n! These are amazing and I love them! I can't wait to try the teas and you're getting the first reading with this tarot deck.” She said, leaning forward to hug you tight. “Now it's your turn!” She squealed excitedly. 

You smiled, taking the gift from her, opening it up, your jaw dropped. You just stared for a minute, speechless before looking up at her. 

“You…you made me a burr basket?” you asked dumbfounded. 

You'd asked Natasha for boo baskets and burr baskets and she never got them or made them and it hurt every time. 

“Yeah you kept talking about them so I wanted to make you one. I hope I did it right. I watched a bunch of tiktoks on making them and how others had them.” She rambled out. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, there was a blanket, slippers, flannel pj's pants, a face mask, eye mask, a little holiday squishmallow, lip balm, your favorite perfume, and some seasonal chocolate. 

“W-Wands…I…i don't have words this is…I…” you physically couldn't form words. You looked up at her and realized the only thing you could do to say thank you was kiss her. 

You moved the gifts out of the way, crawling forward and letting your lips brush against hers, when she didn't pull away you pushed into her, letting your lips pressed together. Your hand cupped her cheek as her lips started to move against yours. 

When you both needed air you pulled back just a little, your foreheads touching. 

“I wasn't expecting that as a thank you, but I won't lie…I've been wanting you to kiss me like that since I came to America…” she confessed. How had you not noticed what was right in front of you this whole time?

“Wands…would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” You ask softly.

“I thought you'd never ask.” She practically growled before kissing you again. 

This wouldn't be like with Natasha. You knew this was different. You could feel it. 

She was your someone special.

[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[eroscomet]

Cellmate Prisoner 516

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Pairing: Vi x Prisoner!Reader

Warnings: Mentions wounds and violence (I think that's all.)

Word count: 2.1k+

A/N: Hey, lovelies! So, recently I finished Arcane and I immediately got to writing after finishing it. I'm thinking of releasing a Cait fic as well but i'll see how this Vi fic does first. I hope you guys like this, and i'm not sure if anyone else has done this idea yet. Let me know if you guys would want me to continue releasing chapters for this fic! If this is your first time reading my work and enjoy it, there's more on my page! I'm sorry in advance for any probable mistakes.

Proof read.

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┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

Days in Stillwater seemed to blend for the inmates, especially those who knew they’d never return to normal civilization. The inmates had created a community there in the prison. It was rare to see inmates fight, most who did were newer inmates who didn’t understand that everyone in there had long accepted their fates. They weren’t willing to fight after they’d come to terms with the fact that they were to be bound by the walls of the prison for life along with the others. Why hold a grudge, right?

However, the lack of fights didn’t mean total peace for the inmates at Stillwater. Enforcers were often the ones who'd steal that peace that inmates tried to keep. If anyone were mouthy for even a second, it’s a beating with the enforcers that they’d face for it. Most were driven to stray away from having fights with the enforcers. There's a saying that goes around, you become the uniform you wear, whether it’s a prisoner uniform or an enforcer uniform. 

That always stood, inmates knew their place and enforcers forced theirs. All but one inmate applied to this saying, inmate 516. The livewire, the undoing of the enforcers, the one with all the audacity. If not called inmate 516 by enforcers, most around the prison knew her as ‘Pink’, a name that she gained from the color of her hair. She had resilience, fight, a fire in her that never ceased. No matter how many times enforcers would beat her for her mouthy talk, it never stopped her.

She’d once roamed the prison on the higher levels where land and nature were still visible. Where the air she’d inhale was the same air as everyone else’s. The more she causes a commotion, however, the lower the level she’d be taken. She never stopped her ‘fuss’, so eventually she made it to the lower levels with the inmates who would never see the light of day or breathe fresh air from the outside. 

Constantly being placed in new areas of the prison, different levels, different blocks, different cellmates. Anything to piss enforcers off, she’d always thought ‘If they’re getting a kick out of my misery, I can at least get one as well’. She lived by that in prison. Her previous cellmate had complained so much about having her as a cellmate that enforcers had finally had enough and moved her to another cell.

This happened to be your cell. Tidy, an organized mess, if you will. You didn’t talk much to the other inmates, only when you’d require trading for different materials. You had a knack for the creation of all kinds, sketching, building, and mapping. Pink, however, had a knack for destroying of all kinds, kicking, punching, training for whatever it was that she’d often mutter angrily about.

“Great, now I'm paired with Mute here.” She groaned as enforcers pushed her into the cell before shutting it. People in the prison had created a nickname for you since you’d never bother to tell them, Mute, they called you for your lack of speech. Which was a choice for you, after realizing that if you’d stopped speaking, people would simply assume that you were mute and wouldn’t have to bother with other inmates.

When she was pushed into the cell, you had momentarily looked away from the sketch on the cell desk. Your eyes met hers, anger was all that you could see in the glint of her eyes. She had a lot of rage, for a reason that you did not know.

“Don’t stare at me like that.” She nearly spat as she looked at you. Your expression hadn’t faltered as well as your gaze on the pink-haired girl. 

“Whatever, at least this time I didn’t get paired with someone who can’t shut up.” She threw her pillow onto the empty cell bed before sitting on the edge of it. Your silence with the inmates at times caused a bit of a ruckus, not all were happy with the fact that you wouldn’t respond to their conversations or threats. Sometimes they resulted in a one-sided fight.

You never fought back, you felt no point in doing so as the inmates loved to bring along a friend or two to accompany them to their ‘fights’. They’d say they were teaching you a lesson by beating you up, a lesson you obviously never understood considering the fact that this often reoccurs with other inmates. You could feel her eyes examining your black eye as you returned your gaze to your sketch.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” Her voice seemed a bit softer and inquisitive as she spoke. You had paused for a moment before deciding to shrug and continue to sketch.

“Tch, why did I even bother asking?” Her words seemed more like a statement to herself than a question as she responded to your silent statement of shrugging, “That is exactly why, because you don’t speak. I can see how that makes people get all worked up.”

Her eyes averted from your black eye to the desk, watching your pencil move swiftly, “What’s this?” She asked curiously as she neared your desk, grabbing a gadget, you quickly swiped it out of her hands. She put her hands up in surrender as she saw you defensively hold the gadget to your chest.

“Hey, hey. I meant no harm, I was just asking.” She said with her hands still up. For a moment, you looked down at the gadget against your chest. You extended your hand and allowed Pink to examine the item. She recognized it as the headpiece of her little sister, Powder,’s grenades, the signature colorful drawings on the headpiece.

“Where did you get this?!” She asked, now with a bit of hostility. Your lack of response angered her as you extended your hand as if asking for the item back, and she quickly slapped it angrily. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, you'd expect it from the other inmates, but Pink? With the way that she is with enforcers, it shouldn’t be surprising but it was. You held your hand with the other as you brought it to your chest, still feeling the stinging sensation.

“What do you know about this?!” She asked, her voice momentarily faltered, barely caught by even your own ears. The way that you seemed clueless to what she was saying, gave her the answer she needed. She scoffed as she tossed the headpiece of a flame chomper to you. You quickly caught it in your hands, safely putting it under your pillow away from Pink. 

“I’d get more out of talking to a wall.” She said with a scoff as she got into bed, shifting onto her side to face the wall.

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About two weeks passed since Pink had become your new cellmate. At first, she had been holding a grudge with you, giving you the silent treatment in return which you didn’t at all mind. You had always preferred silence. Eventually, she broke and began speaking to you, despite not hearing a word in return.

“I want to apologize for what happened a couple of weeks back..” She said as she continued punching the wall as she so often does, you’d taken note that this was a habit of hers to do every day. You’d gotten used to it quickly, assuming it was another ‘training’ thing of hers. 

“It’s just that I recognized that piece—the drawings. My little sister used to make gadgets and draw on them. Bombs, particularly.” She said as she paused her punching, staring at the wall as she spoke. This made you pause as well, the headpiece of the fire chomper in your hand. Your finger had been lightly caressing the cool metal, looking over your shoulder for a moment as Pink explained further.

“I guess it triggered something in me. I'm not a bad person, " she said as she caught your gaze.

You stood up, padding over to her and gently grabbing her hand. You opened her hand and placed the headpiece on her palm before moving her fingers to close around it. After the action, you sent her a small smile, to which she responded with a surprised look.

“You really don’t have to-” She began to speak before you had moved her hand to her chest. You gave her a nod, to which she finally understood. She nodded in return, understanding that you were giving her the item.

“Thank you..” She said quietly and hesitantly. You nodded once more as you returned to your desk. The two of you were silent for a moment before she put the item into her pocket and began punching the wall again. 

“Her name was Powder.” She said, speaking up after having punched the wall a few times. 

“I don’t know if she’s alive or not but what I do know is that when I get my first shot out of here, I'm going to find her. Or at least the man who took her from me.” Her voice was determined like she had thought about this many times.

“That man..took everything from me. He. Will. Pay.” She said a bit more aggressively now as she landed a harder punch on the wall. You winced at the sound, knowing that if it were you punching the wall like that, it would’ve hurt but Pink seemed to handle it like it was nothing.

━━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━━

Time with Pink in your shared cell felt a little less tense than your first meeting with her. She had gotten a bit more comfortable and you knew that from the way that she’d open up a little every once in a while with stories of her past. She talked of her father, whom she seemed very fond of from the way she spoke of him, she talked of her sister Powder a lot, small stories of memories when the two were younger that warmed your heart.

You’d see that she was a lot more cooled down, with fewer fights with the guards as well as reduced ‘training’, she now seems to only punch the wall a couple of days a week. Everything seemed fine until a new inmate arrived, a man who was bald with many tattoos that seemed to run through his entire body. You’d heard the news that Pink had beaten him up with a tray during dinner, breaking his jaw. When returning to your cell, she was smug but also seemed bothered by the situation.

She muttered to herself as she sat on the edge of her cell’s bed, “A week without leaving the cell, that’s what they gave me.” She said as she looked at you, her gaze was hardened. Your jaw is slightly clenched with a bit of worry for the girl.

“No meals, nothing. That prick deserved what was coming to him. He knew it from the look in his eye when he saw me.” She muttered with a scoff.

One of the perks about trading often with the cook at Stillwater meant special treatment. Often the cook gave you a bit of a better meal or something for dessert. For the next three days, you had snuck food back into your cell for Pink to eat.

“How’d you get this brownie anyway?” She asked with her mouth stuffed, you shrugged it off to no surprise.

“Any news on bald guy?” You shook your head in reply to her question. “Good, I hope to hear not a peep out of him after that.”

There it was again, the rage in her eye you had seen when she first came into your cell. She was angry again, more now that this man was in Stillwater. But you couldn’t figure out why.

“He’s a part of Silco’s henchmen. Dirty rat finally got caught.” She said with a scoff as she continued to eat. You hesitantly placed your hand on her shoulder, she looked up at you with surprise. She sighed as she paused, once again allowing her shoulders to no longer be tensed.

“Yeah, I know. He just..ticks me off.” You simply nodded to her words in understanding before gently patting her shoulder. 

“Thanks anyway, for the food or whatever..” She mumbled as she continued to eat, you smiled softly before heading to your desk as you usually do. A bit of silence came over the two of you before she spoke.

“Do you like that they call you Mute here?”

You paused for a moment as you shook your head.

“Then why do you..not talk?”

You seemed to be in thought as you shrugged again.

“I'm not trying to be mean but maybe people would get off your case if you spoke. Can you even speak at all?” To which you nodded to her words, she only took a moment to examine your face which had healed from the black eye she first saw you with.

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

A/N: Guys, let me know what you guys think. If you guys want me to make this a series or not, if it is, it might be a little bit of a slow burn, I will include the other characters later on as well. Thank you so much for reading, new readers can check out my works on my page. Everyone is welcome to request stuff as well!

[captain039]

PART 14 Blood, Fur and Magic LAST PART!

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence swearing

Check out some fanart I did for my fic here!

My biggest fic yet I swear

Previous part <-

You feel it before it happens. The shudder of magic that goes through your body before the chaos starts. Getting people out of the city was the main objective, enforcers everywhere trying to gather everyone to safety while also dealing with the wounds and differences between them and the undercity. You can feel its footsteps like a pound in your head, it makes you feel weak, uncoordinated. You’re unsure where Jayce is, unsure where Viktor is either but they’re alive, you can feel them through the bond. There was an onslaught of beings, shadowed figures almost humanoid. They fall too easily and what’s left was something that shook you. They were people, the shadow leaves them and all that is left is a lifeless being, one who had a name, a family too. There’s body’s piled on the bridge of nameless people, it makes your body shudder and your heart cry but it doesn’t overwrite the pounding in your head. It’s closing in now, the pounding like a hammer to your head. You can feel Jayce in a flash of wild anger and Viktor in the darkness. You’re at the bridge, enforcers surrounding you, Jayce and Viktor were here but they’ve been forced back to the entrance of the hex gates. What you see isn’t human, something organic but not human. What you see behind it is approaching rapidly though, another werewolf you realise, blonde fur, red eyes, the one you saw. Your eyes widen a bit before there’s a frenzied growl by your side and a blur of brown fur.

“Jayce!” You yell as you see Jayce’s wolf form charging at the other wolf. The enforcers are startled by both the werewolves tumbling in a rush of blood, fur and claws, you urge everyone back and to aim at the blonde one. You feel Viktor by your side as well, his eyes are wild mixing with reds, purples and blues, you see blood covering him. He looks to you his eyes softening as he gently cups your cheek before disappearing in a blur of smoke. You feel a little helpless, exhausted from using your magic against the shadowed creatures.

“I see you little mage” you hear its voice echo in your head a clench in your skull.

“Face me!” You yell out loud before hearing its cold chuckle. It rattles the bridge and you hear the sounds of cracking and creaking.

“Run!” You yell before urging everyone off the bridge. It creaks and groans despite its structure, shaking and rattling. Viktor materialises by you a frown on his face as he watches the bridge.

“Where’s Jayce?” You ask before you see a figure limping over. Jayce’s beast form groans before he collapses at your feet, you see claw and fang marks over his body and quickly rush over.

“Jayce?!” You yell cradling his head in your lap.

“Your pup is no match for mine” it’s voice echos.

“Jayce, open your eyes” you beg softly listening to the low groan/growl he lets out. You feel a wave of magic, it knocks out all the enforces, leaving them unconscious on the ground. You see Mel behind you shielding you all before she collapses behind you. Your heart pounds in your chest as you listen to the creaks and groans from the bridge. The sky is an eerie grey, the clouds dark and brooding, a thick fog now casts over the bridge giving you limited visual.

“Jayce, come on” you whisper softly before you close your eyes. You let your magic flow through him hoping it will do something. You feel your bond flare momentarily and open your eyes. You watch as your magic dances over him in tendrils and watch as wounds slowly heal themselves back up. You sigh in relief and Jayce’s golden eyes fix on yours once more. You chuckle in relief hugging his wolfish head making him let out a small rumble.

“Impressive” you jolt at the cold voice that floats out. You see a large figure, tall and lanky, its skin isn’t normal, hues of purples and greys with bits of golds. Its face isn’t entirely human, covered by a mask. You frown though seeing three figures behind it, the blue hooded mages.

“I was surprised to come to this timeline and see how I was changed” you frown noticing the mask and red glowing eyes focused on Viktor.

“Gifts finally granted and not taken” it continues and your frown deepens recognising the deep accent.

“Viktor?” You ask confused.

“Hello, Miláček” the figure reply’s and you feel a shock through your body.

“On my world you were no where near this… eccentric” The figure purrs. It walks forward coming closer, you look at it- him… Viktor. His body is changed into a long slender form of mechanical and organic matter, the mask, greys and purples lined with gold, you see his face like it was split in two to let the mask there. There’s a halo like glow around his back and you notice something akin to a third arm and runes shining in the halo similar to yours.

“This arcane flowing through you” he says stalking closer.

“Will be mine” he finishes stopping about thirty meters away. Jayce stands up and growls his teeth bared.

“Jayce” The other Viktor says smoothly.

“I am happy to see you” he adds.

“Living up in your true potential, of untapped rage and wildness” he says in wonder before looking to your Viktor.

“How… small we are compared to such things” The figure says.

“Simply driven by hunger” he adds. You look to your Viktor the shock, the recognition in his face, you see his trembling hands and reach out to hold one. Your Viktor snaps his eyes to you blinking a bit to focus before you feel him give your hand a gentle squeeze.

“How quaint” The other Viktor says almost as if he’s smirking.

“Such a shame you had to die” he adds and you frown before a rush of visions go through you.

You see yourself locked away in an organic metal cage, like so many others, Jayce is in the next cage over to you, not breathing and pale. You see this figure that was once Viktor holding up a person by the neck, you watch the life fade from their eyes, becoming nothing, their eyes turning white, before shadows engulf them he drops them to the floor and they stay standing before moving without emotion out of wherever you are.

“There is no chaos in perfection” he says carefully walking over to your cage.

“No suffering” he adds.

“No, Viktor please. You have to stop this! This is not a way of life!” You beg, but you feel as if you’re just watching yourself through your eyes.

“A way of life?” Viktor asks.

“This is the only way of life without suffering, without divide” he hisses as he unlocks the cage and takes you out. Your body struggles and you squirm but his hold on your neck is tight.

“You will see, you will all see” he says before your world goes black.

You gasp and stumble focusing on the present.

“You killed us” you whisper looking back to Viktor’s new form.

“I made you perfect” he snaps.

“That wasn’t perfection!” You snap back.

“I see you too do not understand, a shame” he steps closer.

“I would’ve liked having you by my side” Jayce moves first, in a swipe of extended claws. You watch the blonde werewolf dart out and tackle him though. Your magic flares in a glow of blue tendrils before you start to lash out at what used to be Viktor in another world. Viktor joins too, a flurry of smoke and blood. You feel Mel beside you her magic fuelling the fight.

This Viktor knows how to fight, knows how to pull your weaknesses, you can hear him in your head, whispering showing you memory’s, it leaves you unfocused and dazed, blooded and bruised. You feel another hit to your side before you’re on the ground. You cough out blood panting softly as you try to lift yourself up.

“Come on” Your Viktor whispers helping you up. You groan in pain feeling bones broken and cuts along your body. You can hear the whimpers and growls of Jayce nearby and the grunts of Mel focusing her power on the other Viktor.

“He’s too strong” you say.

“We can’t win” you whimper.

“He knows us, knows our weaknesses” You add wincing.

“He doesn’t know our strengths though” Viktor says.

“What strengths” you almost want to scoff at him but you feel Viktor’s hand on your heart and taking your hand over his heart.

“He doesn’t have this” He says. You feel the bond pulse with life in a new intensity. You hear Jayce howl in victory after a loud whimper before something surges through you. It’s like a reboot to your body you gasp feeling your wounds mending. Jayce walks over and you lift a hand to press it against the rune against his chest. The beast closes his eyes before another surge goes through you. You watch your runes and body glow, feel your magic bottling up ready to release. Viktor and Jayce collapse unconscious but you turn to the other Viktor your body floating of the ground.

“You show nothing but weaknesses” you say watching his red eyes focus on you through the mask.

“You missed our strengths” You whisper before a ray of light emits from you. It makes him stagger and groan before he can’t fight, it makes you cry out eyes closing head leaning back. He struggles before he lets out a cry before there’s nothing but a shimmer of magic and then nothing. You fall back to the ground, world going black.

Jayce stirs first, shaking his head groaning a bit at the shift in his body. He hates shifting back. He frowns focusing on the scene around him, he sees you on the ground collapsed. He rushes over and pulls you into his lap checking over your body. He notices the runes gone from your arms and panic sets in.

“Come on, no!” He cries as others stir around him. The enforces wake up and Mel lifts herself off the ground as well. Viktor’s by his side quickly to his eyes wide breathing ragged.

“Wake up!” Jayce yells in desperation tears in his eyes as he cradles you close. Tears roll down his face, he can feel the disconnection between you both, he can only feel Viktor’s heartbreak.

“Jayce” Viktor says brokenly and he shakes his head holding you tightly. Viktor holds him tightly one hand around his shoulders the other on your head gently moving through your hair.

“No, no, no” Jayce mumbles.

Viktor feels hollow, the surge of magic knocked him unconscious and now, now he can’t feel you at all. He feels Jayce though, feels his panic and desperation and finally opens his eyes. He sees enforcers rising from the ground tending to each other and the he focuses on Jayce’s shaking body leaning over something. He flinches seeing your limp form before he’s crawling over and looking at your face. There’s blood on your head, dirt on your body and no glow of Runes, there’s no runes anywhere on your body in fact. Jayce is crying holding you form close and Viktor feels his heart break as tears well up in his eyes. He wraps an arm around Jayce, places his other hand on your head as his own tears roll down his face.

There’s a light hum, a pulse rhythmic, alluring, it makes you want to stay here and sleep in this darkness. But something tugs at you, in your heart before it pulses more heavily shocking you almost. You don’t want to go though, the pain has stopped. You hear faint voices though, familiar ones, you feel warm and safe in an embrace only you know. The pulse becomes more erratic more noticeable before you’re gasping and being tugged with it awake.

You gasp then cough, pain flooding your body.

“Hey- gods you’re ok!” You frown focusing on Jayce who’s cradling you close. You feel tears on your shoulder and realise Jayce is crying as he pulls back.

“We thought you were dead!” He says and you look seeing Viktor there as well. He was crying too, his beautiful swirl of colourful eyes shining with tears.

“Hello sweet thing” he whispers and you smile a bit.

“Hello” it comes out croaky. Jayce laughs in relief holding you close again making you groan softly.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt?” He asks and you nod. You see his instincts kick in before he’s yelling for medical to come over. You just smile though lifting your hands to rest on Jayce’s left cheek and Viktor’s right cheek. Jayce flinches a bit but notices your look and smiles back nuzzling into your hand.

“I love you both” you mutter.

“We love you too” They reply in union.

Weeks past and there’s no return of your magic, Jayce and Viktor still possess their changes but you must’ve used all yours up defeating the other Viktor. You’ve all been haunted by what you say what he did to those people. What remained though was your bond, the rune above all your hearts never left, still connecting you all.

You lay awake in your bed, Viktor curled up beside you and Jayce snoring softly on the other side of you. Your bond hums contently and calm. You all got a new house together, with a bigger room you all share while the other two house trinkets and science experiments. Viktor made sure the building of the rooms was science proof in anyway shape or form, he scolded the workers often when they didn’t do something right. Setting your house up was left to you, though both boys had a little of them around the house in certain ways. You feel safe, loved, all your physical wounds are healed and the non physical ones are always looked after between you three. You smile closing your eyes about to sleep when you feel a thrum of life go through you and a gasp leaves your lips.

TAGLIST:

@imithicwolf

@sseleniaa

@miraculousasscheeks

@alitaar

@drenix004

@nckcn

@donnie-is-here

@simeonswhore

@burning-harmony

@arevik2345

@horiday120

@8812-342

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 10

Just a reminder no posting next week, as I have to recover from the holidays and all the fics I wrote.

Eddie throws a homecoming party and friends get hella pushy, so both Steve and Eddie push back

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Pt 7 Part 8 Part 9

~

The next night Eddie threw a coming home party and invited all the people Steve had hired, the D&D boys (Mike and Dustin), and even let Steve bring Robin as his plus one.

As Steve walked in with Robin, he instantly spotted three men he didn’t know. The broad-chested black man was talking to Charles in one corner of the room, while the other two, a heavy set man and a short, curly haired man was talking to Dustin. And judging from how animated they were getting, Steve was gonna bet they were talking about D&D.

He had even had a chance to look for their host, when Eddie came bounding up to them with a big grin on his face.

“Stevie!” he greeted warmly. “You made it! Everyone else is here at the ball, Cinderella. Come, come meet my friends.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him over to the two talking with Dustin first. “This is Bri-guy and Gare-bear!”

Steve laughed and shook their hands. “I’m the nanny.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “He’s much more than that, he’s an amazing cook and the girls love him.”

“I’m Brian and this Gareth,” Brian said shaking his head. “And we know all about you. This idiot wouldn’t stop talking about the an–”

Eddie slapped his hand over Brian’s mouth and grinned brightly at Steve. “I think that’s about enough of these two, don’cha think?”

Robin got a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “Not at all. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Robin, the best friend and platonic soulmate of Steve. We’ve been friends for ages. How long have you known Eddie?”

Gareth grinned at her, sensing a partner in crime. “Oh ages. We all went to high school together. I’m not the original drummer and Bri isn’t the original bassist, but we’re the lightning in the bottle that made Corroded Coffin what it is today.”

Eddie dropped his hand from Brian’s mouth to put his hands on his hips. “How dare!”

Brian and Gareth cackled. And suddenly they were joined but whom Steve assumed was the final member of Corroded Coffin, Jeff Lawrence.

“Are we all picking on Eddie?” he asked gleefully.

“No!” Eddie and Steve cried at the same time the other three cried, “Yes!”

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Ooh! I like her! Jeff, the better guitarist of Corroded Coffin and its lead singer.”

Eddie pushed Jeff. “Oh get out. Only for the last album when we were trying something different. It was not something the fans liked. Asshole.”

“I’ve got to tease you, man,” Jeff huffed with a grin. “It’s so easy!”

“This is Jeffy,” Eddie groused, folding his arms like a scolded toddler. “Meet Steve and Robin.”

“Nice to put a name to the faces,” Jeff said with a charming grin. “Eddie talked all about Steve so Robin’s name came up a lot.”

Steve blushed, but Robin grinned.

“Glad to hear I made it to the dispatch notes,” she said, then turned to Eddie. “I’ve got to say, I really love this house. It looks like it stepped out of pages of a gothic horror film. It’s awesome!”

Eddie took a bow. “Why thank you, my lady!” He looked around his house proudly. “That was the look I was going for. I can’t stand all this sterile white, grey, and beige bullshit that is in vogue right now. Give me color and character!”

“Have you seen what Steve’s done to his room yet?” Robin asked cheerfully, knowing full well what she was insinuating.

Eddie flushed a bright pink, shoving his hair in face to hide the blush and Steve stared at her in wide-eye, slack-jawed shock.

“Robin!” he hissed, flapping his hands at her in embarrassment and dismay.

She grinned at him unrepentantly, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back to see what Eddie would say.

“I–I um...” he coughed. “I haven’t had the opportunity to see how Steve spruced up the place, no.”

“Robin,” Steve said low and deep in warning. “Eddie hasn’t had a reason to see my rooms yet as he’s only been home for thirty-six hours.”

Robin just batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “I would have thought he would have wanted to see what you did to the rooms he’s letting you use in his house.”

The other three members of the band were falling over each other, just cackling over this exchange. Steve was red from the tips of his ears all the way down the dip in his collar. Eddie’s mind tried to follow the thought of how much further the blush went. He didn’t have to think about it long as Steve grabbed Robin and hauled her off elsewhere.

He turned to his friends. “Oh shut it. Assholes.”

“Dude,” Jeff said breathlessly clutching his sides, “like that was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever witnessed and that includes the time Gareth tried to hit on the supermodel that last Grammy’s.”

“Hey!” Gareth huffed. “I got a date out of that, I’ll have you know!”

Brian put his arm around Gareth’s shoulder. “After I told her that you weren’t as big an ass as that interaction displayed. She was going to lose your number, man.”

Gareth folded his arms and pouted. “I hate you both.”

“But seriously, Ed,” Jeff said turning his attention back to Eddie who had been trying to slip away from them before they noticed he was gone.

He failed.

“It’s obvious he has the hots for you,” Jeff continued, “so why aren’t you tapping that ass? You wouldn’t shut up about him the whole time we were on tour. It was actually kinda annoying.”

“For real,” Brian agreed. “And please I don’t want to hear how you’re not ready to get out there again after Ethan left, or how you’re paying him to look after you girls because I’ve seen him with them and holy shit they adore him.”

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “Guys, I haven’t been home for forty-eight hours yet. Can you not try and hook me up with my daughters’ nanny for fuck sake?” He peered around Jeff, making sure Steve was out of earshot. “I don’t really know him yet. Yes, we talked a lot about everything during the tour but I haven’t had to live with him under my roof yet. I could hate the way he takes three showers a day or whatever.”

Jeff and Brian shared an exasperated look as Brian threw his hands in the air. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back on one leg. “That maybe if me and Ethan had lived together before we got married, maybe the marriage wouldn’t have blown up like it did.”

It was a small and simple “Oh,” from Jeff, but it encapsulated all the feelings of the three other members of Corroded Coffin.

“Shit,” Gareth hissed, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed but we just wanted you to be happy. And you light up around Steve in a way I haven’t seen you do in years.”

“What would you know?” Eddie spat bitterly. He looked around at all of them. “What would any of you know? You scattered like kids around a broken window the second the band broke up. And where were you when Ethan left? Or when Wayne broke his leg? I appreciated the tour, it really helped me prioritize things. But you don’t get to come into my house and act like you’ve been there the whole fucking time when you haven’t.”

Eddie stormed off, leaving the three of them there with shocked expressions.

“Shit,” Jeff said, hissing out a pained breath. “He’s right. Fuck. He’s right. We should have flown out the second he told us about Ethan. But we kept putting it off until the deal about the tour came around and then suddenly we were interested in his life only when it benefited us.”

Gareth ran his hands down his face and rolled his eyes skyward. “Fuck. What kind of friends have we been? Like we’re all rich enough that hopping on a plane wouldn’t have even dented our fortunes at all. We should have been for the messy divorce and been helping take care of the girls. But what were we even doing that couldn’t have been put on hold?”

“I was the closest,” Jeff huffed. “I was in New York. Hell, I could driven down. But little shit just kept cropping up. Miranda’s health scare. Then she got pregnant and lost the baby. Which were important at the time, but Eddie needed me.”

“I don’t have any excuse,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Because yeah, I was on the otherside of the world, but Eddie would have flown around the world a dozen times for me, but I couldn’t fly half way.”

Brian’s lip quivered. “My mom got cancer around the time, but I don’t think she would have begrudged me flying out to see Eddie. But I didn’t even give it a second thought.”

Jeff looked around the room for Eddie and spotted him standing next to Steve. Robin wandered off, leaving Steve sitting on a table, ankles crossed, swinging them back and forth, drink in hand as he listened to some story Eddie was telling him.

Jeff continued to watch as Eddie must have said something funny, because Steve threw head back and laughed.

“I think I see the silver lining to our neglect, boys,” he murmured, pointing out the tableau before them.

The other two men turned and looked. Steve was nodding vigorously, big smile on his face as he told his own story to Eddie.

“Because if we had been here to help Eddie around the house,” Jeff continued, “then he wouldn’t have gotten so desperate to hire a male nanny. Yeah, we fucked up. We pushed too hard. But damn boys, look at what grew in that barren wasteland, anyway.”

“So it’s settled,” Brian said, “we’re all staying in Indy to help Eddie and Steve get together, right?”

Gareth nodded. “Damn straight we are. Plus those kids Steve found to play D&D, I’d stick around just to see their style.”

“Looks like Operation: Refriend Eddie is a go, boys,” Jeff said excitedly, putting his arms around both of his friends. “And maybe we’ll get a wedding out of this, too.”

~

Steve had given Robin a good talking to. Like maybe don’t proposition his boss on his behalf before the sheets had even had time to warm up, yeah?

It took some proper talking to her to before she relented and apologized. Then stomped off to find some real booze. Steve knew she was going to raid Eddie’s liquor cabinet, but considering most of it was already out, he didn’t figure Eddie would mind too much.

Then a glass of whiskey was being dangled in front of him. He looked up to see Eddie smiling down at him. Steve took the glass with a murmur of thanks.

“Here’s to interfering best friends!” Steve said raising his glass to Eddie’s.

Eddie clinked their glasses together with wary smile. “I just wish they had been around more before they started interfering in my business. They weren’t around to pick up the pieces, so they don’t get to decide when to change puzzles.”

“Here’s to that.” Steve took a drink. “Robin is just trying to make sure I’m happy and she knows how much I love this place.” He shook his head. “I’m content with being the Au Pair Boy. I don’t need anything else.”

“You are much more than that,” Eddie said fiercely. “My girls love you. You’re special, don’t sell yourself short.”

“I promise.” Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I love those little girls too.”

“Don’t look now,” Eddie said with a grin, “but I think our friends are spying on us.”

Steve took a drink of his whiskey and looked up through his eyelashes and sure enough the Corroded Coffin boys and Robin were all looking over at them, trying to look they weren’t.

“Quick, laugh!” Eddie said and Steve burst out laughing genuinely. “Oh, that was perfect. Good job.”

“Learning the art of actually laughing when you’re supposed to be fake laughing,” Steve said warmly, “is a skill taught to the children of socialites like my mother from birth.”

“I wish they gave you a crash course when you become famous,” Eddie said with a weary smile, “because holy shit it’s like being dumped in a shark tank!”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Yeah, they should teach classes and stuff.”

“Annoying best friends aside,” Eddie murmured. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Steve looked up into his eyes and smiled fondly. “I am too.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

as the earth burns to the ground,

lay here with me

IN WHICH it takes an asteroid hurdling toward earth for you and jay to be pulled apart, and then brought back together—but it's worth it

PAIRING ⟡ wealthy (ex)bf!jay x scientist!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ end of the world au

WARNINGS ⟡ inspired by as the world caves in by matt maltese, exes to lovers, arguments, some platonic!jake thrown in there, ambiguous ending, elements from the movie don't look up, inaccurate portrayal of astrophysics and high school debate clubs

WORD COUNT ⨯ 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . starting again with the first fic i ever posted!!

"It's a silly rumour!" he said, exasperatedly.

You told him, "A rumour?! We've estimated its trajectory, analyzed dozens of possible routes, calculated probabilities... You can't deny the research, Jay!"

It was hard to believe that your relationship had come down to this. Had come down because of this.

You and Jay met during a high school debate tournament. His school had been reigning champions for years, until you joined your school's team and beat them. Jay was both annoyed, but impressed by your quips and arguments. He caught up with you after the match, and the rest is history.

High school sweethearts from rivalling schools, a true Romeo and Juliet reenactment.

The two of you went on to attend the same university in different programs. You—garnering a PhD in mathematics and physics, in order to pursue your lifelong dream of becoming an astrophysicist. Meanwhile, Jay went into marketing to one day take on the family business.

Although pursuing very different paths, you always came together at the end of the day. You'd often stay over at his apartment, large as it was, and watch movies together, cook new recipes he thought you'd like, whatever it is you both wanted to do, as a pair. Soon after graduation, you officially moved in with him.

Of course, you weren't perfect. You argued, you disagreed. There were a few significant arguments that led to you slamming the door on your way out.

But it always came down to how you first met. A good debate, a good argument, happens only when both sides respect each other, and don't let their emotions take on the best of them.

So, after every argument, you or he would call the other to apologize. Or, you'd wake up the next morning with a bouquet of roses with a handwritten note attached to it. Or, instead, you'd walk over to his place in the pouring rain, asking for forgiveness.

What brought you two together, however, eventually became what tore you apart.

During debates, Jay prioritized feelings over facts, in the sense that he would take on logical, everyday thinking to tackle the problem, usually winning over his opponents because they often lacked realism. You, on the other hand, gathered the facts and tackled the issue head on. In that way, you balanced each other out.

In another way, neither of you truly ever saw eye to eye.

You just didn't see it until word of an asteroid heading toward Earth came around.

You were ecstatic to be the one to discover the asteroid. At the time, its trajectory seemed to be close enough to Earth that it would be seen by an average telescope on the night it passes by.

"And my name will be on every article talking about it," you told him, wearing a proud smile.

Jay looked at you sweetly as you went into depth, ways that he certainly didn't understand fully, but he still listened intently because he knew it mattered to you.

Then, with further research, you discovered that you wouldn't even need any equipment to see the asteroid fly by.

"We could make a date out of it," he suggested. "When is it passing Earth?"

You continued to stir the pasta, humming at his words. "In about three months," you clarified.

You yelped when you suddenly felt his arms wrap around you. Leaning your head back comfortably onto his shoulder, you let him give you a short kiss. "Maybe we could invite the gang and set up a get together on the building's roof?"

"Sounds like a plan."

Within weeks, the morning tabloids were filled with new information revealed about the asteroid that you and your team discovered. Threads of information were shared on social media, and your name was attached to it everywhere. You felt a sense of pride whenever you checked your phone in the morning, scrolling through dozens to hundreds of comments congratulating you on your discoveries.

One morning, you woke up to a new headline greeting you:

Asteroid Heading Toward Earth: Here Is How To Prepare.

"Huh," you asked yourself, sitting up on your elbow to scroll through the article. You read some more and discovered there were more calculations done overnight by the rest of the team after you left earlier the night before, calculations proving a change in direction.

It was then that you noticed the seven missed calls from your team members. You mentally cursed yourself for being a heavy sleeper.

You quickly called the team leader first, and they barely greeted you before asking you to come to the lab.

"What's the hurry?" Jay asked from the kitchen. You rushed behind him to place a chaste kiss to his cheek, heading to the door to slip on your shoes, with your bag almost falling from your shoulder in the process. "I'm making pancakes."

"Check the tabloids. It's bad."

He frowned. "Yeah, I saw," he said with an unreadable expression. For a situation so serious, his voice seemed to toe the line of mockery too closely. "There's no way it's real, love, don't worry about it."

You stopped in your tracks with your hand still on the handle. "Sorry?"

"Are you serious? An asteroid heading toward Earth?" He raised his eyebrows. "C'mon, we're not in a movie."

"This is serious..." you told him slowly. "Just 'cause it's the first time something like this has happened, doesn't mean it's not real—" You shook your head. "—Look, I have to go. I can tell you about it tonight."

And, sure enough, you spent the day proving the team's theories from the evening. The asteroid was surely coming toward Earth, in approximately nine weeks. At that moment, you weren't able to estimate the true extent of the damage that it would bring, but it would be bad, you knew that well enough.

Jay didn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, Y/N," he said.

You had to take a step back, close your eyes and take a deep breath to make sure you didn't scream. "You don't trust me." The statement was short, but garnered a large reaction.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you're saying," you explained. "You don't believe my research. I can show you my notes, I can call the team leader for confirmation. Yet, you don't believe me."

He scoffed at you. Looking around, Jay sputtered out half-finished words, taken aback by your confrontation. "I trust you, Y/N, I just—"

"Just what?!" you interrupt, throwing your hands in frustration.

"Park Enterprises has already disproved it."

You wait for him to continue, but he looks at you as if that was enough explanation.

Out of pure disbelief, you let out a half-breathed laugh. "No, this is ridiculous," you throw his own statement back at him. Classically using his own words to turn the tables.

"My father's team has been tracking that exact same comet you're all after, and their studies show that it won't be coming near Earth, not by ages." It was unbelievable the absolute lack of hesitance in his voice. The confidence, which used to draw you into his arguments, repulsed you. "They have better funds for their research, it's much more developed."

This had you looking around for an audience, waiting to hear the laugh track in the background because his speech was straight out of a comedy. "You rather believe people who are solely in it for the money, people who completely disgrace their PhDs and the professors who taught them. Jay, we've laughed at them together because we both agreed they'd agree the Earth was flat if they were offered a large enough check!"

"Well, at least what they're saying now is much more realistic! Your studies don't even make sense."

"So, the date?" you ask him. "What–What was that about?"

He laughed. Laughed. "Obviously I'd take any excuse to spend time with you, love. Sure, you'd be disappointed that we didn't see anything, but I figured the night itself would've gone so well that it wouldn't have even mattered." He shrugged at the end of the words, clearly thinking that it was a given.

"I need you to leave," you told him slowly. You no longer had the energy to deal with a baseless argument. Surely you could get to him, just not then. "I need to be alone. Please."

And with that, he left.

Only a few text conversations were shared after your argument. Neither of you came forward to settle what had happened, talk it out.

Two months went by. Not seeing each other again, nor speaking in all the time that passed by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You look over your notes again, brows furrowed in concentration. Trying not to get distracted by the ticking of the clock, or your desk-neighbour sighing every few minutes, you scramble to find a sheet of paper you surely misplaced—because there's no way, no way that this is all you have. If it is....

Jake leans back in his chair and exhales loudly, and suddenly all hell breaks loose. "No way, no way..." you mumble over and over. "Shit! This can't be happening!"

He looks over at you in concern. You also start to hear the other scientists pushing back their own chairs, some turning around to look at what you're seeing. "Y/N? Everything okay?"

Wordlessly, or rather without any intelligible words shared, you turn your computer screen to his direction and hand him your papers.

Jake studies the notes quietly, looking up every once in a while to analyze the images and graphs from the screen to compare. Your hand instinctively comes up to your chest, trying to settle your heartbeat, if it's even possible. "Is this...." He doesn't finish. He understands.

You nod at him. Tears well up in your eyes.

"We'll send them up to Dr. Lee, and get his team to confirm everything," he eventually responds. His voice is clear, despite his own tears spilling. The other scientists come closer, leaning over Jake's shoulder, all reading until everyone is in the loop of what's going on—what's going to happen. He turns to them too. "In the meantime, we'll all go home. Spend time with your loved ones." It goes without saying that this is the last time everyone will be seeing each other.

Saying goodbye to the members of your research team is bittersweet, you learn.

Despite the pride you feel looking at them, considering everything you've learned and discovered together, it pulls at your heartstrings for it to come down to this. You almost wish you had never pursued this career path, wish you weren't even smart enough to come to these conclusions.

You hug Jake tightly at last. He's the one you've always been closest to, after all. "Thank you," he tells you, your face buried in his shoulder and finally letting the tears fall freely, since everyone else is gone. "For everything."

"You too," is all you say.

You hold onto each other for a few moments more when a pit forms in your stomach. Something different than the gnawing fear of knowing the end is near.

No, this is different.

Regret, you realize. Regret, with a mix of guilt.

You pull away from your coworker, a shaky smile on your lips that can't quite reach your eyes. "I have to go." And despite the ache of never seeing him again, you turn away from Jake for the last time and rush out of the building to your car.

As you're pulling out of the parking lot, soft melodies play from the speakers. You recognize the beat instantly.

My feet are aching and your back is pretty tired;

You resist the urge to pull to a stop and just let your eyes shut as you listen to the familiar tune. It'd be nice, but no. You know you have somewhere to be, and the radio coincidentally playing your—and his—song is only more proof that you need to do this.

And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe, and set our grief aside;

Driving down a road you've been through dozens of times brings up many old memories. You remember the first time Jay brought you to his parents' house, nervously fidgeting with your dress from the passenger's seat. He noticed immediately and placed his hand reassuringly on your thigh, risking taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet with your eyes and ask silently: "Are you okay?"

You told him you were just fine, and that wasn't a lie.

The papers say it's doomsday, the button has been pressed;

Your phone buzzes from the compartment. Sparing a glance, you notice an alert glaring back at you, probably something along the lines of "Take immediate cover. Do not go outside. Protect yourselves."

The radio cuts out, nearly at the same time. The same announcement rings in your ears, so you swiftly turn down the volume and lean back into your seat.

You look through your blind spot for clear roads, and press the pedal harder.

We're gonna nuke each other up, boys, till old Satan stands impressed;

The nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach ironically dissipate into a new wave of nostalgia instead as you pull onto the street, seeing the grand Park household in the distance.

Happy memories, although bittersweet, flood your mind, and you realize how grateful you are for having them.

At last, you make it to their driveway, relief washing over you when you see Jay's car parked right in front of yours. Clearly, he hasn't been staying at the apartment with you over the past couple months, so you just assumed he'd been staying at his parents' house during your time apart.

You know him well.

Walking up to the doorstep brings back a tremble to your limbs. You reach out with a shaky hand to the doorbell, ringing it once. Twice. And thrice—Like you always have.

It takes all but a moment for the door to open, when your eyes meet for the first time in forever.

"Y/N..."

And here it is, our final night alive;

It's been so long.

You could never forget what he looked like, not with his face still waking you up every morning on your phone screen. But still, seeing him in person again leaves you stunned.

"Hi." You hate the way your voice shakes on the syllable, but you conceal it with a nervous smile.

He doesn't look angry. If anything, he's surprised. Maybe even happy, if the way the corners of his mouth come up when you greet him says anything.

"Y/N," he repeats, disbelief leaking from his tone. "You're... here."

"I missed you," you say at the same time.

You share a quiet laugh before he steps aside and motions for you to come in. You follow him without hesitation.

Taking in his comfortably familiar scent that filters the air, you instinctively close your eyes when you make your way into the living room. You notice Jay doesn't sit down next to you on the couch immediately, so you awkwardly open one eye in a squint to find him standing across from you, with a small smile on his lips.

"What're you looking at?" you ask him with a teasing lilt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Have you checked the news?" Technically, you haven't either. But you know by now, from the announcement on your phone and the radio, it'll be all over every channel.

You watch Jay frown curiously and turn on the television. You're both welcomed with a pre-recorded video—as stated in the top right corner—of a newscaster anxiously fidgeting with her cue cards.

"—comet found and followed by a local research team associated with the Seoul National University is indeed heading toward Earth at a concerningly rapid rate." She pauses, looking over her notes and taking a breath. You can't imagine how it is to hear this news when you've been falsely led by the media for so long. "Park Entreprises have released a statement confirming their calculations."

You watch the colour drain from Jay's face.

"We have approximately seven hours before the asteroid collides with Earth, and causes severe to irreparable damage to the planet and all living organisms." A tear rolls down her cheek, she can no longer hold character. You notice the clip cut, before coming back, with the woman looking significantly more distraught; red in the face, tears staining her cheeks. "Please, everyone, spend this time with your loved ones. Stay safe. This has been Channel—"

Click. Jay shuts it off.

He stands in silence, staring at the blank screen. You watch him run his hand over his mouth anxiously, resisting the urge to get up and hold him.

"So... What—What does this mean?"

"The asteroid is much larger than we predicted, which means we gravely underestimated its speed." You keep your head down and voice low. You've been in this situation before and although you hate to admit it, you're afraid it won't be any different from the last time. "We thought we had at least another week before it came within radar, and with the size we had believed it was, it would've done damage, but nothing too extreme. We were wrong."

"And now we have roughly, what, seven hours before we..." He doesn't need to finish. You nod.

He runs a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" You think you misheard him.

Jay makes his way toward you, situating himself comfortably on the couch and turning to take your hands in his own. "I said some pretty messed up things that I no longer stand by. I should've let you talk, and I should've had the decency to listen and, at the very least, try to understand."

It's nice, you discern. Hearing what you've been wanting to hear for months. "Thank you," is all you can think to say because, well, what else is there to say?

"I think I've known that my dad's team was hiding something, or purposefully miscalculating, but I chose to ignore it," he admits. "I was scared. Fuck, I'm still scared."

"Understandably, there's a literal asteroid headed towards Earth!"

You both laugh in agreement.

"I know it's probably way too late to ask you this considering we won't be alive by tomorrow, but can we please spend these last hours together as a couple?"

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend," you tease. "Again?"

"Yes, Y/N." He rolls his eyes, but he isn't annoyed. You feel your heart pull at its strings when you see the familiar smile spread across his face again, something you haven't seen in a long time. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course."

You spend the first few hours helping him out in the kitchen. Jay explains that he's been there all day preparing a big meal for the family, as a surprise because they hadn't spent much time together as of late. It's much clearer to him why.

Together, you make a mess of the place. Not much with Jay's help, no. He's always been the better cook of the relationship. Clearly everyone has their specialities. You—in astrophysics and having the balls in the relationship, and him in the kitchen and being utterly stupid sometimes.

"So, is your dad coming over?" You toss a grape into your mouth, sitting on the counter top after giving up on actually helping. "He probably has some kind of vendetta against me, or something. At least I do."

Jay gives you a look.

"What," you draw out exaggeratedly. "We're scientific enemies. It's textbook betrayal."

"No, he won't be," Jay assures you. "I was hoping to make a meal for him and Mom, but one of their messengers told me they were leaving for a business trip tonight. Looks like that isn't gonna end well."

You frown. "I'm sorry..."

He shrugs it off and waves his hand. "No, no, don't be. I think I'd flip at him if I saw him, and I'd rather not spend my last moments in a screaming match with my father." He quickly washes his hands in the sink before wiping them against his apron to dry them off. "Besides, I'm here with you, and that's all that matters."

If you let a smile escape you, that's for no one to know.

The oven makes a ding! which prompts you to hop off the counter, Jay swiftly catching your movement and letting you fall into his arms. You laugh as you notice his dirty hand hovering over your body to not touch your clothes.

"Do you want to help me plate this?"

As expected, the meal is delicious. Even the burnt edges caused by your excess lathering of butter were more than salvageable. It's nothing like a grand meal at a three Michelin star restaurant, but it's damn near close enough.

You furrow your brows as you take another bite—you can't help looking angry when the food tastes good!

Jay notices. "You like it?" he asks, but not genuinely. His smile hints that he already knows.

You simply hum in response.

The rest of the meal passes by in comfortable silence. Comfortable as either of you can be.

There's some tension in the air. A mix of fear, worry, maybe even curiosity.

How else are you meant to feel on your final night alive?

Once both your plates are cleared, Jay's quick to reach and grab the dishes. You follow him to the sink with whatever else he couldn't hold and help him wash them.

You watch him thoroughly scrub at a plate that's already spotless. You don't interrupt him.

In the meantime, you clear the table. Push the chairs. Rearrange the center piece. Even take out the broom and start sweeping the main floor.

You're not sure why. It's not like it really matters. All of this will be whipped out in a few hours.

A shiver runs down your back, and you decide that you're finished cleaning.

"You wanna watch a movie?"

You settle yourselves in his bed once the dishes are done. Jay toys around with the projector before turning back to you, his face twisting in an unserious grimace.

"Oh, right," he says pointedly. "I forgot you only started dating me for my projector."

"What can I say, the richer the man, the more attractive he is." Yet, even if he didn't have a dime to his name, you would still find Jay to be the most handsome man on this dying Earth. "Come here."

Normally, he'd probably tease you for your clinginess. He'd say something along the lines of your hands being covered in glue, or make a dumb joke about magnets.

Today, though, he doesn't hesitate for a second before diving under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

It feels good, but also makes reality set in.

He feels you let out a shaky breath. "It'll be okay, love," he whispers before placing a long kiss on top of your head.

The opening credits start to roll. You try to take note of all the actors you recognize, try to remember in what movies and series you've seen them in. It calms you down. Then your mind drifts, and you start to worry about what those actors might be doing right now.

Do they know the world is ending in less than four hours? Do they know that no matter where they hide, there's no way to protect themselves?

Jay runs a finger through your hair. Your thoughts hush.

As the camera pans to the main character wiping the back counter at the diner she works at, you look up at your boyfriend. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but you can tell he's not entirely paying attention either.

You shift your position to face him better, still lying comfortably on his arm. "Why didn't you go to culinary school?" The question's been on your mind since he told you about applying for business, but you never had the guts to ask him, already being able to guess the answer.

It's always been known that Jay loves to cook. He's always found experimenting, stepping outside of the box (or the cookbook) to try new things to suit his palette. It was one of the first things you two bonded over when you started dating way back then.

You remember the first time you went to his apartment. Already from the entrance, your senses were filled with the sweet smell of pastries and fresh meat. A combination that wasn't too shabby at all.

He'd been cooking and baking all afternoon, not sure what to focus on because he wasn't familiar with your preferences yet. "Just to be safe," he had specified.

Now, his brows furrowed in thought.

"It wouldn't have worked out," he says finally.

He lightly butts his head into yours. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"

Your eyes drift down from his eyes, to his lips, to the birthmark on his neck, to your hands fidgeting with the blanket. "This is really it," you whisper into the air.

"This really is it," Jay repeats.

To think, you had planned a night with your friends for this exact event. You'd be all gathered on the rooftop, set up on lawn chairs and the terrace sofas, with an abundance of snacks, music from your shared playlist, laughter and cheer filling the air as you all watch the sky, waiting for a star, that isn't really a star, to run through the blankness, just a little brighter than everything else.

And then you would go about your lives.

Heeseung and his girlfriend would celebrate their two year anniversary.

Maybe Jake would finally gain the courage to ask the barista out on a date.

Everyone would say goodbye to Sunghoon again as he'd head off on another skating tour—or whatever the athlete does.

Jay would eventually inherit his father's business. But out of everything, that would probably take the longest. Mr. Park wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. Clearly he was hoping so, too.

You.... You're not so sure about yourself.

After discovering one major comet, you'd move onto the next, you supposed.

People don't ever really stop discovering things about the universe. So much of the planet you live on has gone undiscovered, let alone the infinite plane of space and time.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the millions of things that will forever be left undiscovered, until another species comes to life and starts all the way from the beginning. You realize that maybe that's the point of it all; No one is ever meant to see the end of it.

Maybe it's the moments in between that matter the most.

So, you wrap your arm around Jay's waist a little tighter. You let the voices on the screen fade away as you take in his scent, the movement of his chest as he breathes in and out, and the soft way he strokes your hair.

You tell him I love you without words, hoping he hears it, and fall asleep before you can hear him say, "I love you too."

And as the Earth burns to the ground, it's you that I lie with—It's you I welcome death with.

[emsprovisions]

I'm actually so proud of what I've achieved as a writer this year! I was looking at my writing stats on ao3 the other day and I pretty much doubled my word count from any other previous year. I also started off the year in a completely different fandom from Lone Star, and only started writing fics for LS in June. So posting nine fics in six months actually seems crazy to me. I have some ambitious (for me) plans for 2025 that I am so excited about! But for now...

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Tags under the cut!

Thank you so much for the tags @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @everlastingday @thisbuildinghasfeelings @henrygrass @alrightbuckaroo @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89 💕

No pressure tag for art, gifs, fics, photography, other achievements etc! @ironheartwriter @sapphic--kiwi @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlossreaders @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @decafdino @lutavero @guardian-angle22 @butchreyes @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lightningboltreader @paperstorm @welcometololaland @herefortarlos @firstprince-history-huh @tellmegoodbye and an open tag ofc

[scullygazer]

Hi everyone! I hope you all are having an amazing holiday season 😊 This is for the Poang Pals Secret Santa 2024 gift exchange and my giftee is @sagan-starstuff 😊 I really hope you love it! The image makes sense with the fic, I swear 💚❤️

Mischief and Mistletoe

Rating: G

December 23rd, 1994

Fox Mulder hated parties. It didn't matter what they were ... birthdays, weddings, bachelor parties for co-workers, it was all the same to him.

Dana Scully wasn't fond of parties either. While she was used to them having come from a fairly large family that liked to host them all the time when she was growing up, as an adult, she didn't mind stepping back and declining invitations every now and then.

Neither one of them would consider the "FBI Annual Christmas Celebration" as a great way to spend a Friday evening after a long week of work. Both of them would rather be home, watching a good movie and ordering a pizza (Mulder's ideal evening) or taking a long bath with a glass of wine and a book (Scully's idea of a good night).

Here they were however, sitting at a long table with fellow agents conversing over drinks and Hors d'Ouerves. Scully nibbled on a few crackers on her plate and sipped slowly on a glass of merlot. She was switching to water in a few minutes, knowing she had to drive home. Meanwhile, Mulder was staring at his bottle of beer, attempting to pay attention to the "hilarious" story of Agent Thompson's golden retriever stealing a pie the past Thanksgiving but not succeeding. He envied Scully's ability to at least look interested though he sensed her mind was likely elsewhere too.

Scully noticed how bored Mulder looked. The two had been lucky to find two empty seats next to each other. She was at the point however where she was thinking of reasons to get up and leave this thing. It was almost 9 PM. She had used the restroom excuse twice as had Mulder. Luckily, three other agents ended up deciding to call it a night and it was a good chance for her to politely make her exit. She lightly tapped Mulder's foot under the table and subtly nudged his knee.

"Well, I need to get going" Mulder said, standing up and putting his bottle in the recycling bin. Scully followed him.

"Good night, happy holidays!" she said as she left the table.

"See you next year!" one agent said to them. "Haha" Mulder thought. Like he hadn't already heard that one a million times. He was surprised to not see Scully rolling her eyes but he also knew she was far too polite to do that.

As they walked away, Scully thought she heard somebody say her name. She peeked over her shoulder to see two agents whispering and one was pointing at Mulder. Despite it not having been very long since she began working with Mulder and only about a month since she had returned to the FBI after being in the hospital, she was very familiar with the rumors surrounding them every day. "Mrs. Spooky" she would hear others calling her when they didn't realize she was listening.

"Whatever" she thought as she headed into the basement to grab her coat and purse. She had stopped caring a long time ago. If that was all they had to say about her, she didn't think it was that bad.

Mulder wasn't bad either. She had heard about the lengths he had gone to after Duane Barry took her from her apartment and before she found herself in a hospital bed with wires attached to her whole body and her mother and sister surrounding her as she began to wake up and come to. Despite having no memory of how she ended up there, she had remembered the moment Mulder had walked into the room. Not a lot of people would do all that for a coworker, she knew once he told her all about it.

He was different from anybody else she had ever met.

He was special.

Dana Scully was also not someone who didn't plan things through. She was always known among her family, friends, and colleagues as somebody dependable and reliable.

However, she also knew that some risks are worth taking. On her way out, she decided to make one pit stop before getting in the elevator.

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

When she entered their basement office, Mulder was collecting his belongings and looking for his coat. He could have sworn he left it by the door, maybe he put it on a chair? It wasn't on his desk either.

"Scully, I think I deserve extra presents this year. I was a very good boy and I resisted several urges to just walk out or tell Skinner I had an annoyance-induced headache" he said.

"Well", Scully thought. She had her own little gift for him. They had agreed to not exchange anything more than cards this year. Everything he had done for his this past year was already the greatest gift a girl could get.

"Mulder, I did something a little naughty before leaving the party" she said, with a sly smile

"Oh, Scully" Mulder said, curiously "I didn't know you were such a rebel"

Scully reached into the pocket of her tan blazer and pulled out a small piece of mistletoe

She giggled miscevously as she stood on her toes attempting to hold it over Mulder's head. Since she was struggling to do so due to her height (even with her heels), Mulder plucked it out of her hand and placed it over her head.

She turned bright red. Then she went in for the kiss. He met her rosy lips and kissed her back. After a few moments, they pulled away slowly and smiled at each other somewhat shyly.

"Merry Christmas, Scully" Mulder eventually said

"Merry Christmas, Mulder"

----

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy this and have a very Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and an amazing new year! ☺️☺️☺️

Also... I had to check just because I'm a bit of a perfectionist and December 23rd in 1994 just happened to be a Friday so it worked out very well for that 🤭

[jpegarchives]

hi i came w a request ‼️ can i pls request a written hinata fic where like its graduation day?? or the end of third year n reader n hinata r both gonna pursue completely different paths and they both like each other but never confessed n it’s just a sad goodbye n maybe we can get like a confession BUT it’s definitely a sad goodbye so like angst ig!!

reader can be gn or fem reader idm :)))

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 — 𝐒. 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓��

shōyō hinata x gn!reader (kenma kozume x gn!reader)

walking away from the boy you’ve loved for years is hard, but the past will always stay in the past, fading into memories you’ll leave behind

word count ; 1.5k

warnings ; swearing, angst, hurt, reader ends up okay

THE BRISK, COOL LATE-MARCH AIR did nothing to calm your nerves. As you walked down the mountain path to the high school you’ve attended for the past 3 years, you couldn’t help but feel the pinpricks of tears at the corners of your eyes. The weight of it all—the looming graduation, the uncertainty of what comes next, and the tight knot in your chest—threatened to pull you under.

Pausing for a moment, you breathed in the bitter scent of the mountain—almost rubbery with a small hint of wet earth and moss from the rainfall of last night. The mountains surrounding the school had always felt like a fortress, a place that grounded you. But today, it felt distant, almost indifferent to your inner turmoil.

Karasuno High School had been your second home for the past three years. During your second year your friend Hitoka Yachi roped you into joining her in managing the volleyball team—a team that had made it to nationals the year before, filling your school with a pride you hadn’t seen since your older sister had attended. Thats where you met him for the first time.

Shōyō Hinata. Number ten on the volleyball team, the guy who could vertical jump nearly a meter, Karasuno’s greatest decoy—and the guy who had unwittingly stolen your heart.

You’d never meant for it to happen. He was a ball of energy, bouncing himself off every wall. He was loud. He was stubborn. But above all else, he threw himself into everything he did with such raw passion and determination, making world around you feel just a little brighter when he was around. And yet, you could never bring yourself to tell him.

You don’t know when the tears started to spill; the only indication that you were crying was the wetness on your cheeks. Smoothing out your uniform and wiping the tears away, you continue your brisk descent down the mountain, the cool air pressing against your skin as you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

The graduation ceremony went by pretty straightforwardly. You all sat in the large gymnasium, rows and rows of seats stretching before you. You listened to the principal’s address, then the teachers’ speeches, waited for your names to be called to receive your certificate. You sang along with the rest of your batch-mates as a farewell. And finally, you graduated high school.

The next hour was spent hugging and crying with all your closest friends, promising to keep in touch knowing that most of those promises wouldn’t last past the first couple of months. Most of your classmates planned to go straight into the workforce, opting to skip past university. You, on the other hand, had opened your acceptance letter to the University of Tokyo a month ago; and now with graduation out of the way, the future seemed to be coming at you full force.

After the long winded goodbyes, you decided to walk around the small campus of Karasuno High School, your tear stained cheeks the only reminder of the farewells you had just bid. Walking past the old classrooms you were filled with nothing but bittersweet memories of your adolescence. Yet somehow, you found yourself in front of the other gym—the gym the volleyball team had their practices in. The gym you spent most of your afternoons in for the past two years. The gym where you had first met Shōyō Hinata.

Peaking your head inside, you couldn’t help but let out a short laugh at the sight in front of you. Even on the last day of high school, Tobio Kageyama and Shōyō Hinata were at it, playing against each other in their formal school uniforms.

Somehow, you managed to get the attention of the short, ginger middle blocker, who came charging at you at full speed, stopping just a few centimeters from you.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, his wide grin almost as bright as his fiery hair.

The sound of his voice, always so full of energy, made you smile despite the lingering ache in your chest. For a moment, you stood there, not knowing how to respond, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. Every goodbye felt heavier than the last, but this one, this one was different.

Your hesitation was cut off by him throwing his arms around you, bringing you in for a tight, almost desperate hug. His warmth, a usual anchor, only made the storm within you worse this time. Pulling away, he flashed you that same goofy, boyish grin, the one that never failed to make your heart race, even now.

“We’re finally done! Can you believe it?” He asked.

You forced a laugh, the sound bitter on your tongue. “Ha, yeah. Seems like those three years went by in a flash.”

He didn’t notice the hollowness in your voice, or the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Or if he did, he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m glad there’s no more exams! Well, maybe for you there are. I heard about your acceptance to the University of Tokyo, didja know Kenma’s also going there? Maybe you’ll both see each other!”

His words tumbled out faster than you could process them, each one another punch to your gut. Kenma’s going there too? Your mind was struggling to keep up, the meaning was already fading but it didn’t matter. The excitement, the energy—it felt different, much more distant, like it didn’t belong to you. He was talking to casually, so effortlessly, like everything was just falling into place. But inside, you were falling apart.

“But keep in touch, okay? I’m gonna be off in Brazil, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk!”

Braz….il? The word hit you like a slap to the face. Brazil? He was going to Brazil? Your mind was reeling, you could feel the blood rush to your ears, drowning out everything else. For how long? Was he ever going to come back? Why didn’t he tell you sooner? Why was he just casually dropping this bombshell on you now, when everything was ending. What did it even mean? Brazil. It felt like the world was slipping through your fingers, yet you hadn’t even made a single move to hold on.

Fuck.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin. This was last day you’d spend together for god knows how long, maybe even forever. And you still haven’t made your feelings clear to him. You still havent told him how much you cared, how much you loved him. How could you let this moment pass without telling him?

But did he even care? Did he even care about you in that way? It wouldn’t make any difference either way. You knew Shōyō, and even if he did reciprocate your feelings, you would always be second to volleyball.

You looked at him, his goofy smile so out of place with the turmoil inside you. How could you be this stupid?

“Yeah, yeah I’ll keep in touch, don’t worry.” A lie. “How could I not?”

You forced a smile, giving him a quick hug before turning on your heel and walking out of the gym, walking off the school grounds, and walking away from what is now your past.

FOUR YEARS LATER, you’re sat in your living room. A small smile on your lips as you absentmindedly fiddle with Kenma Kozume’s fingers. His arm draped around you, pulling you into his chest, the warmth of his presence a comforting feeling. He smelled faintly of laundry detergent and strawberries, the familiar scent filling you with nothing short of affection. Your legs are comfortably stretched out on the couch, the quiet atmosphere wrapping you like a blanket as he flicks through the channels, eventually settling on the sports network. You vaguely remember him mentioning that there was a match—the MSBY Black Jackals versus the Schweiden Adlers.

You smile up at him, and he looks down at you with a soft small smile on his lips. There’s a look of pure adoration in his eyes—one you know mirrors your own. The kind of look that says everything without needing words, the kind that makes everything else feel distant and small.

Nestling deeper into him, glancing at the TV as the members of each team run out. You freeze slightly as you see a familiar ball of orange hair catches your gaze—the unmistakable figure of Shōyō Hinata, now running out with the MSBY Black Jackals. Year of memories flood into your brain, but this time, as your heart gives a soft pang, you feel no softness, no longing. The nostalgia is bittersweet, yes, but it not longer carries the weight of what could have been. Instead it’s a quiet recollection of a time that’s passed.

Kenma presses his lips gently against your head, peppering you with soft kisses. Your heart skips a beat, but this time, it’s not a pang of longing for someone you could never have. It was love—full, deep, content.

“I love you,” you say aloud.

The words roll easily off your tongue, like a release. It feels like closure, a final acknowledgement to Shōyō, to the unspoken feelings from years ago. You let the weight of those words linger, not in regret or sorrow, but as a quiet, final acceptance of everything that has brought you to this moment.

a/n ; special thanks to @massacremars and @cherrysurf for beta reading for me lol i really wanna make a part 2 from shoyos perspective for this im ngl

[thelarriefics]

HOLIDAY FIC REC, PART V: Below you’ll find 25 fics that have to do with the holiday season.

📖 Larry Xmas Countdown 2024 by @28goldens (133k)

Different fic prompts posted across 25 days

📖 Twinkling Lights, Fated Nights by @darling-28 (87k)

A story about healing, love and finding home in each other.

📖 Home For The Holiday by @larrysmomfics (86k)

Harry needs to run away. In an attempt to get out of his own routine and his own life for a while and get over his extremely toxic ex, he decides on an emotionally fueled whim to do a house swap with someone in LA who's itching to get out of his own routine and get away from his best friend and business partner for a bit. In a quirky turn of events the best friend Liam was so desperate to get away from happens to be the most lovely, kind, and beautiful man Harry's ever met. What ensues is a self healing journey with the help of a found family, a wonderful man who becomes his home, and above all love. A "The Holiday" inspired AU where Harry meets Louis after agreeing to swap houses with a stranger on the internet for three weeks over the holidays.

📖 Secrets in Winter by @softfonds (82k)

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

📖 2024 Advent Calendar by @the-larry-way (40k)

25 independent one-shots with wintery/Christmas themes centering Larry Stylinson

📖 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (35k)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

📖 You Should Be Here With Me by @lululawrence (34k)

The festive period is a traditionally hectic one in the world of Premier League football, and this year is no different. A lot is riding on how Manchester United is able to come through the fixtures in the coming weeks. Louis and his teammates know all too well the pressure that is on their shoulders. They need to prove, not just to fans of the club but the entire league, that they still have what it takes to be a team worthy of fighting for the top of the table. Throw in the fact that Louis is all too aware that he's not getting any younger in a profession that demands your peak physical fitness year round and the incredibly fit Harry Styles, who is part of the club's social media team, and this year's festive period might just be the most important one yet.

📖 I Guess I'll Surrender by @bravetemptation (29k)

A lad’s Christmas holiday provides the perfect opportunity for Louis and Harry to prank their friends. They decide to fake date. Feelings kind of get in the way

📖 We Can Roll in the Darkness by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (29k)

Or the one where Louis and his best mate Niall decide to take the plunge and open a pub. The goal is to open Christmas Day, but the building renovations are proving trickier than expected. Insert: a construction company with a questionable name, a certain curly haired builder who catches Louis’ attention, and a little festive chaos along the way.

📖 Your Reign is Free (to give along to Santa) by @londonfoginacup (28k)

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s a totally normal Christmas Eve. Harry and Louis have some friends coming by, and some totally normal birthday and Christmas plans. It’s a totally typical totally normal Christmas Eve. A fic that takes place over 24 (+1) hours where surely everything will go totally to plan. Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.

📖 One for the Books by @neondiamond (25k)

Or the one where there’s a bookshop, a cat, OT5 friendship, a budding romance, and all the festive vibes.

📖 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌 An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

📖 light me up, put me on top by @larrydoinglaundry (24k)

Harry takes Louis back to Northern Europe to experience his first Nordic Christmas in their beloved cabin, surrounded by nothing but peace and snow. So much snow. Short "spin-off" to 'Love is a word, you gave it a name' universe. Takes place after the second part of the main story, but before the final epilogue.

📖 Secrets, Santa? by @indiaalphawhiskey (19k)

Right, okay, so Harry had confessed his deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets to a stranger who turned out to be his boss. No big deal. This was probably just the beginning of Harry’s own hilariously heartwarming, wildly romantic Hallmark Christmas movie, come to life, right? …Right? -- very loosely inspired by Sophie Kinsella's Can You Keep A Secret?

📖 You Are The Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn!) by @yoursolosong (18k)

Harry is an alpha who realizes he’s also into alphas and wants to be submissive. He battles between his instincts and what he wants.

📖 Christmas At Cedar Farm by @babyhoneyheslt (17k)

Inheriting a derelict farm with no knowledge on how to look after the land and a farmhouse in dire need of renovations, Harry’s stuck with two options; sell it, or do it up for himself. With the help of his friends and the cute farmer next door, Harry sees the potential and creates a Winter Wonderland at Cedar Farm.

📖 Santa, Baby by @hazzabeeforlou (16k)

Nothing in Harry’s life has gone to plan. From giving up his art dreams in favor of a stable 9-5, to singleness, to a bought with cancer that left him infertile, Harry finds himself wishing for a Christmas miracle. When one seemingly occurs, Harry meets the sperm donor of his dreams and begin to imagine the impossible. But not everything with Louis is as it seems, and soon an elusive art agent is adding to the chaos of Harry’s very unexpected holiday season. Set against the backdrop of New York City, this hallmark-style rom com is filled with a bit of drama, a drop of angst, and a touch of Christmas magic.

📖 knowing you're in love with me is the greatest gift of all by @dreamersdivin-headfirst (6k)

Harry just wants to fall back to sleep in his husband’s arms, wanting to treasure the quietness of Christmas morning before their kids wake up and realize what day it is. That dream is short lived when there’s a small shriek of joy from downstairs.

📖 I'll Show You How Good It Could Be by @lovingstheantidote (6k)

Harry makes Santa a drink and Louis gets naughty.

📖 me without you is like a present without a bow by @wecantalktomorrow (5k)

The reassurance from Louis had Harry grinning and running his hands down his husband’s sides. “I think you’re going to like it,” he murmured confidently, starting to play with the hem of his own jumper when he sat back against his husband’s bent knees. “Sorry you don’t get to unwrap it, though. Knew you’d be more reluctant to be tied up if you saw it first.”

📖 Mistletoe and Eggsnogging by @parmahamlarrie (5k)

Harry has a plan. It involves mistletoe, a night out at a club, and the hope that perhaps he might pull a nice boy tonight. The night does not go in any way like he had planned, but it all works out in the end.

📖 A Man After Midnight by @galacticlarry (4k)

Harry thought kissing Louis on New Year’s Eve would be a one-time thing, but they keep running into each other and it becomes a tradition. What happens when feelings start getting involved? Or the five times Harry kisses Louis on New Year’s Eve and the one time he kisses his boyfriend.

📖 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer. Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital. But that was before he’d met him.

📖 Have yourself a larry little christmas by @enchantedlandcoffee (2k)

A plan to exchange presents lead to more than both Harry and Louis bargained for.

📖 Too Many Beds - A Christmas Tale by @silverstuff50 (2k)

Louis was fine to share a room with any of the lads on their Christmas weekend away. Anyone, except the one lad he hates. He definitely hates him. He's annoying and big and gorgeous and, yeah, annoying.

[sunshinehaze1]

Sea of Love

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Summary: Javi surprises you for your birthday!

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. established relationship, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected PiV, creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: I wrote this for my dear friend @80ssong for her birthday, and she was cool with me sharing it with the world! Javi G is her fave, and there is not enough Javi G fic out there! So we’re going to change that one fic at a time. Happiest of birthdays to you!! I love you! 🥳❤️ huge thank you to the lovely @baronessvonglitter for the beta 🫶🏼 I also made a playlist to accompany the fic. Javi seems like the type who would woo you with Yacht Rock love songs. 🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

word count: 2,665

ao3 | ml

You're awoken gently by one of Javi's assistants, Sophia, encouraging you out of bed. "Up, up, señorita."

In your groggy state, you turn to the other side of the bed and notice that Javi isn't beside you. You return your gaze to Sophia with a furrowed brow. "Mr. Gutiérrez would like you to meet him at the dock."

"The dock?" You question, "What for?"

"He didn't say, señorita."

You had been anticipating a lazy day in bed in your lover's arms. It was the one thing you had asked for to celebrate turning a year older: one-on-one time with Javi, an opportunity to sleep in. You're unsure why the plan has changed.

You've been with Javi for over a year, having relocated to the island to be with him. It has been a whirlwind romance. You met him at a movie premiere after-party for a film he wrote. You worked in marketing for the studio that distributed it, his sophomore production, which followed the blockbuster success of the movie he co-wrote with Nicolas Cage. 

Long-distance worked for the first few months, but it soon became difficult. Balancing the time difference and long flights with your busy schedules was exhausting. Javi offered you a role in his family's business, leading PR and marketing, and you relocated to Mallorca, moving into his lavish home. It has been absolute bliss ever since.

You suspect Javi is up to something. He's a romantic, and he loves to surprise you. There's only one way to find out what he has planned this time, so you crawl out of bed, wash up, and slip on a flowy floral dress and sandals. Before you exit your shared bedroom, you grab your sunglasses from the dresser to shield your eyes from the bright Mallorcan sun. 

As you descend the outdoor stairs, you admire Javi's handsome appearance. He's wearing a fitted baby blue blazer, striped shirt, and tan pants. His brown curls are accented with a golden hue, and his sunglasses hide his soft brown eyes. He greets you with a broad smile, and his arms extend before him. "Hello, mi amor!"

He embraces you and pecks your cheek with a kiss. "Javi, what are you up to?"

"Mi amor, it is a surprise. Come, come, they are waiting for us." He gestures toward a 60-foot yacht docked in the harbor.

"Javi!" your mouth falls open, "When did you get this?" You're still not used to a lifestyle of such extravagance and luxury.

"It arrived last week. The build, it took some time," he shares enthusiastically. "But it arrived at the perfect time. Now we can sail on its maiden voyage to celebrate your birthday!"

You stare adoringly at him, unbelieving that this is your life now. Javi's zest for life and enjoyment of every moment were among the many reasons you fell head over heels for him.

As you approach the boat, you notice the script lettering on the stern—it's your name. Javi has named it after you. Tears form, threatening to fall from your eyes; the significance of such an act is not lost on you.

Javi sees a tear roll down your cheek, and his face falls with worry. He cups your face in his hands and thumbs the tear away. "Baby, are you alright?"

It's a struggle to find the words right away. So you nod and smile, your eyes glassy, until you finally squeak out, "You named it after me?"

"But of course. It is tradition to name your boat after someone meaningful in your life, for good luck." his eyes never waver from yours. "And you, mi amor, are the most important person in my life. I am the luckiest man in the world! I love you so much!" He kisses the tip of your nose and wipes another tear before it can fall.

"I love you too, Javi."

He grabs your hand and walks you toward the yacht, "Come, let's board. We will be at sea for three days."

You halt, "But Javi, I didn't pack anything!"

"Sophia has taken care of that for you. Do not worry."

--

In addition to the Captain and First Officer, the yacht is fully staffed with a chef and stewards available to cater to your every need. Javi excitedly shows you around the space to get acquainted with the amenities. The crew's quarters are tucked away from the main area, offering you and Javi privacy. There is a living area with ample seating and a wet bar, multiple bedrooms, and bathrooms. He shows you the primary bedroom, which includes a walk-in closet. You peek inside to see the clothes Sophia packed for you are hung and perfectly ironed.

You exit the closet to meet Javi standing near the edge of the bed, "This is so beautiful, Javi."

"I'm so happy you love it, mi amor." He softly kisses your lips. "The chef has prepared a late lunch for us." His hand grasps around yours, "Let's go eat!"

You follow him back into the main cabin. A mahogany dining table is appointed with crisp linens, delicate china, and wine glasses with a beautiful floral arrangement in the middle. Javi pulls a chair from the table and motions for you to sit. He quickly rounds the table to sit across from you.

The chef enters with his attendants, who trail behind him with their hands full of serving dishes. They carefully place the dishes while the chef introduces the meal, which includes paella with prawns, ceviche, oysters, small plates of olives, and assorted local cheeses. The staff then leaves you and Javi to enjoy your meal in peace.

Javi pours the wine, and you raise them for a toast. "Mi amor, you have made me the happiest man. I hope to celebrate a thousand more birthdays with you. I love you."

You clink your glasses together and take a first sip of a rich, full-bodied red. Your eyes are misty as you gaze adoringly at Javi. "You make me so happy, too. I love you."

--

With the impending sunset, you and Javi want to take advantage of the last bit of daylight together. You return to the room and change into your swimsuits. Sophia has packed your favorite bikini, one that accentuates your beautiful curves. It happens to be Javi's favorite, too. A black halter top that ties around your neck and pushes your tits together to create delectable cleavage and black and white striped bottoms that tie at the hips.

As you change, you catch Javi stealing glances at you in the mirror. Looking back at him over your shoulder, you give him a little show. Slowly peeling off your dress, one strap at a time, letting it fall to the floor. You shimmy your panties down your legs, exposing your bare ass and cunt to him as you bend over, feeling Javi's eyes bore into you.

When you straighten, you lock eyes with him over your shoulder and reach around to unclasp your bra. Your forearm holds the cups in place, not wanting to reveal yourself too soon. Javi's eyes darken with lust; he bites his bottom lip, watching with rapt attention. With a wink, you drop your arm, and your bra falls to the floor, revealing your tits to him.

"You are so gorgeous, mi amor." Javi breathes out.

Heat roils in your chest, trailing up your neck, feeling loved and adored by your man. "Thank you, handsome."

You change into your bikini while Javi puts on his swimsuit. He's wearing a pair of striped swim briefs, which perfectly highlight the outline of his beautiful cock. His tanned, broad shoulders are covered with a yellow button-up.

He leads you to the boat's bow, where an expansive chaise lounge is located. Javi removes his shirt before he sits; his golden skin glistens in the sunshine. His body is pressed against the back of the lounger, and his legs are spread out in front of him. He pats the area between his legs, inviting you to sit. His legs spread wider as you position yourself in front of him.

Once situated, he pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you lovingly. His hands begin to stroke the tops of your thighs while you admire the Mallorcan landscape of rocky cliffs and the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal blue water.

"Javi, it is just so beautiful out here."

He leans forward to kiss your temple, "Not nearly as beautiful as you."

His lips linger, moving lower to your cheek and down to your jawline, where he softly nibbles as you coo in response to the feel of his soft lips on the delicate skin. His lips journey to the sensitive skin of your neck, where he sucks at your pulse point. Your body writhes at his ministration, and a soft whimper falls from your lips. He knows exactly where and how to touch you; he's spent the last year exploring every inch of your body, discovering how it responds to his touch.

"Oh, I know how you like it when I kiss you here." Another kiss lands below your earlobe, "and here." The tip of his tongue slowly trails along the top of your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. He chuckles, "And there."

Your body floods with warmth as your desire for him crescendos. Arousal pools into your bikini bottoms, "Javi, please."

"Please what, mi amor?"

"I need you to touch me, please."

Javi clicks his tongue, "As you wish."

His palm skates from your thigh to your soft stomach. His fingers trace over your silken skin until he reaches your hip, and he pulls at the end of your bikini's tie, slowly releasing its knot. You ache with anticipation as he slowly trails back across your stomach to release the tie on the other side. The front of your suit slides down, exposing your cunt to the salt air. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, desperate for him to touch you where you need it most.

"You were such a tease changing into your swimsuit earlier. So naughty." he teases, "And now we're so impatient. Huh, baby?"

You nod your head. "Please," you whine.

Javi coos in your ear, "I got you." His lips tug at your earlobe.

You watch as his ring-adorned finger slowly navigates toward your lips. Grazing the tip of it along your outer folds until he moves toward your center to capture your arousal along your wet seam. "Oh, she's desperate, isn't she?"

Your brain is dizzy with his relentless teasing. Words fail you; your only response is to buck your hips into his fingers, resolute in your search for relief. You moan as one brushes against your sensitive clit. Finally.

Javi has dragged this out for the both of you too long, having worked himself up. His cock, rock hard, ruts up against the small of your back, seeking friction. His finger sinks into your wet folds, pulsing in and out of your cunt while he thumbs at your clit. You writhe in his arms, head falling back on his shoulder. He whispers into your ear, "So wet, baby. My fingers are just slipping right in. You're always so wet for me."

His other palm ascends your body, reaching the cups of your suit. He yanks the cups down, freeing your tits. Your hardened nipples piercing the air. He cups your tit in his soft hand, pulling the nipple between his fingers. Gently tweaking at it, which triggers your hips to lurch forward into his palm, his fingers deepening their reach inside your pussy until they hit that sweet spongy spot.

The sensations are intense, stimulating all of your senses at once: his gentle, coaxing touch, the cool breeze mixed with the mist of saltwater against your skin, and the thrill of this semi-public display of indecency, knowing that at any point, the boat staff could see this debauchery. Thankfully, they have all signed NDAs. "You're so close. I can feel you squeezing my fingers." he encourages, "Let go for me."

And you do. Your fingers dig into his forearm for purchase as you wail out his name. The sound muffled by waves crashing against the boat as it advances through the water. He works you through your orgasm, the stroke of his fingers slowing as you come down from your climax. As your breathing evens out, you collapse into him, your head resting on his shoulder.

He removes his fingers from you and brings them to his lips. He savors your sweet musk, sucking off your juices from his digits, "mmm, I will never get tired of how you taste."

You tilt your head to meet his lips and moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You feel Javi's hard cock poking into your lower back, too distracted to notice it before. Twisting your arm behind you, you stroke your palm over the front of his suit, feeling the ridges of his length, and he lets out a strangled moan.

Desperate for your touch, he lowers the front of his suit to free his cock. Stroking it, he taps the tip of it against your back, and you feel a bead of precum against your skin. You move your hand over his and stroke in tandem. He collects the leaked precum from his tip to lubricate his strokes. He hisses when you tighten your grip over his. "Mi amor, I will come if you keep doing that."

"We can't have that, can we?"

You lift yourself to hover over his cock. He teases the tip through your slick folds, brushing your clit. You feel a burn in your quads as you lower yourself onto him until he's fully sheathed inside you. "You're just desperate for this cock, huh?"

You answer him by lifting yourself back up until only the tip breaches your entrance, and without warning, spear yourself onto him and begin to ride him in pursuit of another orgasm. Your tits bounce with your movement, and he reaches around to cup them in his hands, kneading them softly. One of his hands lowers to below your waist to your clit. A mixture of circles and taps on your sensitive bud edge you closer to your second release. Your pace quickens, and a wave of ecstasy rolls through you as your cunt pulsates around him.

Before you can come down from your high, he pushes you forward onto all fours in one swift motion. His cock never leaves your tight hole as he kneels behind you. He withdraws until only his tip remains in your warm, wet embrace before he slams back into you. "Fuck!" he grunts, "She's so tight."

Javi begins a steady pace, his hips slapping into your ass. His hands hold onto your hips with a bruising grip, pulling you into him to sync with his thrusts. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with each stroke.

"Hnnngh." you moan, "Baby, you're so deep. Fill me up!"

His pace quickens, and his balls tighten as his release draws near. His pelvis pounds into you until, finally, his seed paints your walls. He wraps his arm tight around your waist and collapses into you, his forehead meeting your bare shoulder. He scatters light kisses along your back while his breath returns to normal.

Once he's come to, he draws you back into his lap. His cum dribbles out over his softening cock as he pulls out from you. He reaches over to grab a towel and cleans you both.

You relax into Javi, sated and content, as you watch the sun begin its descent behind the cliffs, painting the sky in orange and pink hues. You could care less that you're still in your fucked out state, half-naked and blissed out. All that matters is that you are in your love's strong arms.

Javi peppers soft kisses along your cheek, "Happy Birthday, mi amor."

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

[thewardenisonthecase]

Family

Lucanis character study fic.

Read on AO3

Summary: After being denied dinner, Lucanis finds a room that was never meant for him to see.

A/N: The Dellamorte family makes me insane. Also, I think I dropped the ball a bit at the end because of personal life stuff getting in the way. Anyways, tw for physical abuse of a teenager.

word count: 1234

Lucanis wouldn’t eat dinner that night, his grandmother had said. He shouldn’t be rewarded for his poor form during training. 

From the staircase, he watched her and his cousin eat in silence. When his stomach grumbled, he walked away. The good part about Villa Dellamorte is that it was big enough that he could wander around. 

And it was in these wanderings that he discovered secret passageways, behind bookshelves and hidden by paintings. He hadn’t had the chance to explore where they went but tonight’s events had brought him the perfect opportunity. 

Quietly, Lucanis made his way to Caterina’s study. He had discovered the passage by accident, while trying to find the book on wyverns. He had grabbed the wrong one and suddenly, the bookshelf moved out of the way, a vast corridor showing itself in front of him. 

He gulped but stepped forwards, pulling the lever on the side of the wall, as he heard the bookshelf moving once again. Lucanis gulped but walked forward, into the dark hallway, placing one hand on the side of the wall to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. 

Eventually, he reached a staircase that led upwards. As he climbed, he noticed a string coming down the ceiling and when pulled, revealed an opening to an attic. Once inside, he began to cough - there were cobwebs everywhere and a thin line of dust covered everything. 

There were crates everywhere. Lucanis approached one and tried to open it, but it was nailed shut. He noticed all the others were like that, impossible to open. The boy moved his attention to a large, rectangular object in the corner, covered by a sheet. 

He kneeled in front of it, taking a peek and realizing it was a painting. In one swooping motion, he removed the sheet, revealing a horizontal portrait. 

Various men and women whom he had never seen stared back at him, and it was when he looked at the center of the painting that he realized that this was a portrait of the Dellamorte family. 

His family.

Caterina had had five children and eight grandchildren, and they had all been depicted there, alongside their spouses. Their faces were not familiar to him. All of them had died before he could even learn their names.

Reaching a hand forwards, his finger traced Caterina’s face, the only one he truly recognized. She looked younger, though not by much, with less gray hairs on her hair and swore he could see a hint of a smile. 

Standing next to her right arm was a woman with dark hair and eyes, and a man stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder. The woman, like the others on the painting, dressed in dark shades of blue and purple, but on her arms, she held a baby, swaddled in a white fabric. 

Lucanis squinted as he looked closer and saw the opal ring on the woman’s finger, his eyes widening in realization. 

That was his mother, holding him as an infant. The man, his father. There was another woman, on the far side of the painting, who also held a child in her arms - Illario. Lucanis had never known how much like his mother did he look like. There were no paintings of his family to be found in the villa. No mementos, nothing. 

His gaze returned to the crates once again. From the corner of his eye, Lucanis saw a crowbar, hidden in a corner. He picked it up and made his way to one of the crates, using all of his strength to open it. 

Even more paintings inside, these ones individuals. Besides the portraits, there were leatherbound notebooks, and taking a quick look inside, he realized those were diaries and journals. Names he didn’t recognize graced the pages, all belonging to different Dellamortes. 

He opened another crate. This one contained old children’s toys and music boxes. Small shoes, fit for a baby and a blanket. Those were not his, that he knew, and much less Illario’s. Rummaging through it, he found a small locket on a golden chain. As he reached for it, he felt a searing pain in his hand. 

Looking up, Lucanis was met with Caterina’s scowling and furious face, her cane in hand. 

“What are you doing?” She asked in a low hiss, not waiting for an answer. “You were not supposed to be here.” 

Lucanis brought his hand close to him, keeping his head lowered. He bit his bottom lip, trying to swallow back his tears. That was a weakness, as Caterina had once taught him, and he wouldn’t showcase it in front of her. 

He felt the tip of her cane come underneath his chin, lifting his head up to see her. 

“Have you lost your tongue? Speak, boy.” She demanded. 

“Our family…these were their things, were they not?” He asked “Why have you hidden it from us?” 

She did not respond and Lucanis felt an anger build in him. 

“Tell me, Caterina, why did you never show any of this to me or Illario? We deserve to know about them.” She closed her eyes, turning away from him. 

Lucanis stood up, pointing at the painting “I don’t even know their names! They’re my parents, my uncles and nieces, and I know nothing about them because you never talk. Do they mean so little to you?”

He felt the sting on his cheek as the sound of a slap echoed in the attic. 

Lucanis scoffed. “That’s all you know how to do. Hurt us.”

“I do this to keep you safe.” She finally spoke, pain lingered in every word she spoke. “I was too lenient before and it cost me everything. It will not happen again.”  

Caterina looked from the painting and then to Lucanis, placing a hand on his injured cheek.  “She was much like you. Stubborn, brash and never listened to her mother.”

She looked into his eyes as she said that and he wondered if Caterina was really looking at him or was he seeing her. Lucanis took a deep breath. 

“She was your favorite.”

“Yes.” 

Lucanis took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I won’t come here again.” 

Caterina nodded and took a step back. “Go to your room.” 

He bowed his head and made his way back. He did not hear the sounds of Caterina’s screams nor the sounds of things being thrown and broken. 

No, he only walked straight to his room and crawled to his bed. He did not speak to Illario as he thought of things that could not be. He wished for a life he could not have, one with loving parents and siblings to play with, with a smiling grandma that sang him to sleep. 

A life with no pain was not the life of a Crow.

Lucanis turned around in bed, facing the wall, and reaching into the pocket of his pants, he retrieved the locket. Caterina hadn’t noticed him swiping it right underneath her eyes. It was golden and shaped like a heart. 

Carefully, he opened it. On one side, there was a small painting of a woman and a child, but this time, he recognized it as him and his mother. On the other, there was an inscription. 

Faustina & Lucanis Dellamorte. 

He traced the name with his thumb over and over again before holding it tight to his chest, sleep soon claiming him.

.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging it and leaving a comment, they're extremely appreciated!

[randomfoggytiger]

Collector's Edition: cecilysass

To cecilysass: an indisputable talent in the X-Files fic sphere. "Orpheus, not Eurydice" was the first to steal my heart; and your blend of winsome, affectionate, particular humor and dark, prolonged, mature pain kept it. Your work captures such specific moments-- such specific feelings-- that its impact is as sharp and distinct as a rubber stamp on new paper.

@cecilysass's (Ao3, Gossamer)

Still Feeling My Father Ascend (Ao3)

“It’s easy to make mistakes,” his father continues. “Don’t get attached too soon. You’re a… well, you’re kind of an idealistic kid. Soft. Don’t marry the first girl you fall in love with.”

By this point in his life, Mulder has already been in love. He might have gone on to marry her, had she been willing. Had she not broken his heart. His father knows nothing of this, of course. Mulder continues to pack without responding.

“You’re old enough to understand that I made some mistakes in my own life,” his father says. “A man makes a bad choice, and he’s stuck. He’s not … satisfied. For years. I don’t want the same for you.”

A deep well of anger pits in Mulder’s stomach, thinking of his silent and broken mother, but still he doesn't speak.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Fox, is that there’s no point in trying to be a good man,” his father continues. “That’s a waste of your efforts. There’s no such thing as a good man. The more you try to be good, you only get trapped, compromised. The best thing to do is try … to avoid entanglements.”

Post Beyond the Sea Scully is stranded at Mulder's apartment during a snowstorm. Woe upon woe piles up until they both share their own "other fathers" struggles. That, and Mulder might be in love.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 1 (Ao3)

“It’s really best to get real cranberries from the Cape and make your own from scratch,” Mulder says, in a pained tone. “You add some grated orange, some cinnamon, some cloves. Next year, I’ll show you how it’s properly done.”

“Oh, will you?” she says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Probably not,” he corrects quickly. He forgot for a moment that she will probably be on to bigger and better things in the Bureau by then. “Next year, you’ll be back in the arms of the Scully family, counting blessings.”

Season 1 Mulder changes his Thanksgiving plans-- he had none-- to spend the day with Scully-- who now has none after her and Ethan Minette's breakup. Things are... nice, if complicated.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 2 (Ao3)

Mulder has drawn a little lackluster pencil drawing of a turkey on a folded piece of paper, which he places at the center of the table. “See? A centerpiece,” he says. “Makes it more festive.”

“I had no idea you were an artist, Mulder,” she says, with a deadpan version of the enthusiasm one gives to a small child.

“Inspiration hits and I have to go where it leads, Scully.”

They grimly peel back the plastic on their trays. “I feel like I owe last year’s cranberry sauce an apology,” Mulder says sadly. “Because whatever this is, it doesn’t even deserve the name ‘cranberry.’”

Post Firewalker Scully spends another Thanksgiving with her partner-- under different, isolated circumstances, of course.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 3 (Ao3)

“Scully?” Mulder, ahead of her, stops to peer back. He is wearing his black leather jacket, the bowl of cranberries in his hands. He frowns in consternation. “What’s wrong?”

She spins. Runs full throttle for the bathroom, the sour taste already coming up in the back of her throat. She collapses over her toilet and promptly pukes her guts out.

It's Thanksgiving... or it would have been, if Scully hadn't gotten the flu-- a flu which reminds both of the lingering, unspoken conversation they need to have.

How to Eat Pleasant Holiday Meals With Co-Workers - Chapter 4 (Ao3)

“Mulder.” His voice sounds broken, like an old man’s.

It’s Lionel speaking. Lionel of Lionel and Reyna, who live in the farm house adjacent to their property. Lionel and Reyna, their nearest neighbors. Lionel and Reyna, his nearest neighbors.

Lionel seems to be asking him to dinner tomorrow. Turkey, stuffing, cranberries, pumpkin pie.

Post breakup Mulder reflects: is there dignity in sadness?

Oblivious (Ao3)

“Can I ask you a personal question, Scully?”

“About what?” Her sideways look was suspicious.

“I have a theory about you,” Mulder ventured. “Call it a profiler’s hunch.”

“What comes out of your mouth next could not possibly be complimentary.”

Post War of the Coprophages Mulder tries to convince his partner that not only was Bambi interested in her, but that many others have been inspired with mouth-frothing intentions.

Orpheus, Not Eurydice

So they leave the store with a container of oats and some bratwurst in buns, as well as a bag of potato chips and two root beers. Scully comments that it’s as though they purchased dinner for a pair of hungry 10-year olds, and Mulder just nods vigorously and bites into his bratwurst, obviously relieved that adult Scully is nowhere to be seen tonight.

There are carved stairs set in the side of the short sandstone bluff that leads to the river. There is a narrow park on the bank, almost entirely empty of people. There is a weathered gray picnic table, the color of bone, where they settle in to eat their juvenile dinner. 

The little town hews to the curve of the slow-moving river, which now sits before them, dark green, flat and wide. They are quiet as they eat, even Mulder. All around them the world is verdant, still. The sun has started to sink below the tree line on the opposite riverbed, conferring upon the sky a marigold glow. 

Season 5 Mulder and Scully take a moment to sit, feed the ducks, and listen to the local church choir-- to simply absorb.

Unobserved

It really looks like she has been inside the building, which Mulder ... just can’t make sense out of.

Because she wasn’t back at Gibson’s room this afternoon -- or the psych facility at all. He would have seen her. He was there.

With an unpleasant jolt, he remembers that in fact she had called him, just about that time. She … asked him to go to the office. She said she was on her way already, that she preferred to talk to him there. There she had shown him the proof they needed, what they needed to bring to Skinner the next day.

Mulder lets his hands run slowly down the sides of his face, something falling precipitously in the pit of his stomach.

It is unavoidable: Scully had not told the truth. And Scully always told him the truth. Which raises the unsettling question: what reason would she have to lie to him today? He doesn’t like any of the answers that come to mind.

Post The End Mulder is stunned to find security footage of his partner despondent and nearly in tears.

The Kaleidoscope (Ao3)

Scully turns to Ryan. “We should probably be going, right?”

“Our reservation’s not until seven,” Ryan points out. “I was thinking we could go get a drink at a bar around here. Maybe Fox could come with us?”

Mulder can’t understand this invitation at all; he has been pretty rude, or at least awkward. But Ryan is all fluid friendliness, effortless affability, and Mulder recognizes the type: the socially generous popular kid. After all, he has nothing to lose by extending a welcome to Mulder. He perceives zero threat. He already has everything, doesn’t he? A whole evening ahead with Scully. A whole night. Morning.

Season 6 Mulder sits glumly at his desk, trying to figure out where he fits in the complex and continually confounding life of one Dana Scully. One wrong move and he might end up in the wrong ending.

The Boy on the Beach (Ao3)

“She’s not in here, Mom!” shouted Melissa. “That’s weird … I thought she was. She must have gone outside.”

Scully swallowed, breathing fast, feeling hot tears pooling in her eyes. Whatever was happening, that certainly seemed like her big sister outside that door. Very young. Very alive.

There was the sound of a child’s aggrieved sigh. And then clomping, heavy footsteps leaving the room. Scully could hear Melissa complaining as she went back down the stairs. “She can’t sneak off and not help with the potatoes at all,” Melissa called. “That was supposed to be Dana’s job. And what about the boys, Mom? Bill hasn’t done one single thing to help! Do I have to do everything?”

Her voice grew more distant—and was answered, somewhere, faintly, by her mother’s voice, high and young.

Inside the dim closet, Scully didn’t move for a moment, trying to process.

Post Amor Fati-- A sweeping, intense fic that unspools rapidly from present-day miscommunication to lost-in-time, but-perhaps-just-in-time epic. Scully, lost in the 70s; Mulder trying to trace and intercept her progress through would-be impossible polaroids; and a little Mulder and Samantha, clinging to an FBI savior as their only hope.

We’re Not Here To Get Involved in Personal Problems

In fact, Scully has seen many episodes of Cops, a life achievement of which she is not particularly proud. Her brother Bill is the real connoisseur. He has been known to sing along with the theme song and howl in laughter when suspects scream at one another. Bill loves for his sister to watch with him, since he assumes she especially can appreciate law enforcement as entertainment, but Scully herself never really gets it. She questions the officers’ heavy-handed tactics. She is uneasy that the show has a mean sense of humor about the poor and addicted. She wonders why they never, ever show anyone doing any paperwork. But she hasn’t always found it easy to get along with her brother, and she does love his raucous laugh, so she tolerates this sibling bonding activity.

She can’t imagine how it ever would have involved Mulder, though.

“You and I watched it together in the hospital,” Mulder reminds her, shoving both hands in his pockets as they walk. He kicks at something on the ground. “When you were sick -- the chemo. It’s possible that you were a little out of it.”

“Ah,” Scully nods. Her time in the hospital is a blur of surreal, half-remembered daytime TV.

Post X-Cops Mulder and Scully take a fruitful walk around the neighborhood (season of secret sex who?)

Negotiation (Ao3)

“I just don’t want an arrangement,” he repeats meaningfully. “I don’t want a negotiation.”

“I get it,” she says shortly, jerking her hand out from under his.

“No,” he says. “No, you don’t.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want … what you suggest. I’ve thought about it. A lot. Maybe too much.”

Scully’s mouth twitches at the corners as she apparently absorbs this. “Okay,” she responds. A pause. “Then why not?”

Mulder rubs his temples aggressively.

“I don’t think I could do it without … all of it. I mean, that’s not strictly true. I could do it. I’m only human. But I think it would end … really badly.”

Mulder and Scully, stakeouts and a little miscommunication-- what's not to love?

Gingersnap (Ao3)

“I could help you,” he says.

At that she raises her eyes. There is a look of unmistakable hope there. It surprises him, even dazes him a little. He’d expected her to reject his suggestion out of hand.

“Is that something you’re capable of doing?” she says tentatively. “Baking cookies?”

“No,” he admits. “At least there’s no precedent for it.”

“Sounds useful.” Her eyes are still cautiously on him.

Scully's unsuccessful baking attempts are further thwarted by Mulder's eager, hands-on attitude.

The Gentle Art of Dream Interpretation (Gossamer)

In Mulder's dream, he was a French Jew from Alsace, and he wore a shabby brown coat before a panel of great men.

Angry, standing before the Great Sanhedrin in Paris, he was trying not to shout, but could feel the steady rise of his pitch as he lodged his formal complaint to the Jewish leaders:

"You bend and stretch the halakha as best fits your pocketbook," he was telling them. His hands were shaking. He was speaking French.

Mulder has a complicated dream, which leads to more straightforward revelations in a motel pool in the late-early hours of the morning.

False Front (Ao3)

“Aren’t you the same person who once told me ‘the truth is out there, but so are lies?’” Mulder pushes. “Where’s that Dana Scully?”

She walks to the window and stands in front of it, still hugging herself and looking out into the afternoon light. From Mulder’s vantage point she looks only like a silhouette, an outline of herself.

“I get it,” she says after a heavy beat. “I see what you’re saying.”

Now there’s a melancholy timbre in her voice, a sound of defeat. He hears it rarely, for all of their struggles, and he doesn’t like it.

An astonishingly "lifelike", vivid look at Mulder, Scully, and TLG's conflicted feelings after En Ami's road trip.

Pause (Ao3)

 “Your mom is already here. I called her this morning—I thought it better be me that broke the news. It’s kind of a shock. She’s eager to see you. Are you ready to talk to her?”

Scully nods, her forehead creased. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

He regards her. “You’re nervous.”

“Of course,” Scully replies pointedly, her voice lowered. “I want her to believe it’s me. It will hurt if she doesn’t.”

Her eyes land on his face in time to see the shadow move over his features, and she regrets saying it. She doesn’t understand the full story yet, why he is so convinced she is dead. But she can hear the raw suffering in his voice as he talks to her mom. Whatever he has been through, maybe she should tread more carefully.

AU-- Pre-Requiem Scully wakes in an abandoned car with no memory of how she got there... and no memory, she learns, of the years that have passed since her and Mulder's almost kiss, Millennium's successful followup, and the blissful months that followed.

Ice Water - Chapter 3

“Gamma," he says, his voice a tiny whisper. He is feeling shy.

“Look,” Maggie says cheerfully to him, as they walk into Dana’s kitchen. “It’s your Aunt Dana, Matty. You’ll see she looks a little bit like your daddy. At least I always thought so.”

Dana has her back to them, pouring water in the coffeemaker, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. Strange she hasn’t made coffee already, thinks Maggie. Strange she isn’t dressed for work.

When she turns around, Maggie has to stop herself from gasping audibly.

Post Without Maggie brings over little Matthew... and notices something is most definitely not right with her daughter.

Opposition And Synthesis

It had been a particularly trying day.

And all because that morning, she had woken up obsessed with the philosophy of Hegel.

Hegel's dialectic. An old concept from college, from her philosophy and German classes. Every important idea in history is a thesis, and is naturally paired with its antithesis. Eventually they subsume one another, combine into something new. That is the synthesis.

Two wrongs, in essence, making a right.

Post This Is Not Happening Scully is continually struck by the holes Mulder left in her life.

All the Dead Mulders (Ao3)

Or maybe he just wants to touch his mom’s gravestone. And Samantha’s. A really selfish whim for him to indulge on week two of being newly undead, not to mention a risky one. He doesn’t even have a valid driver’s license anymore. An overzealous North Carolina traffic cop could really upset the apple cart.

But all that completely, cosmically just doesn’t matter. Mulder knows emotional numbness. He has had experience with several gradients of it before, dating back to early adolescence. But this? This takes the cake. This lack of feeling is a whole new level.

He sees all of the very good reasons not to steal Scully’s car and drive to North Carolina that morning—he understands them perfectly and could articulate them if someone asked—but they’re so far away from him that he can’t touch them, much less feel them.

He’s looking at them from miles above, like he never came back from orbit at all.

Post Three Words Mulder steals Scully's car and drives out to face his experiences head-on-- or, more accurately, to confront the looming shadow of his death.

Shine On (Ao3)

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

What would happen if Jackson had fallen into Mulder and Scully's life earlier? What would happen if he needed them because he was framed for murder, but was afraid to open up to them fully? What would happen if that reconnection was fraught with hope, and angst, and even literal pain? (And what would happen if a formerly abandoned mytharc thread wove its way back into their lives?)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging: @poangpals.

[tiramisumin]

a nonsense christmas

⋆⁺₊❅. pairing: kim minjae x f!reader

⋆⁺₊❅. word count: 4.25k

⋆⁺₊❅. content: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!!, fluff, some humor, swearing, strangers to classmates/friends to lovers, more mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, junmin cameo, if u squint this fic and the sumin one are connected lolz, if u couldn’t tell i like writing about kissing, vaginal fingering, face riding haha, minjae has an oral fixation, protected sex (cowgirl position yeehaw), she fell first he fell harder type beat

synopsis: you could see yourself falling for kim minjae and sharing a future with him. and maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party.

୨ৎ she’s a little late.. but better late than never amirite!!! thank u @tmrwsuns for being my personal cheerleader the entire writing process i think i might’ve kms’d without u bff 🤍 pls reblog if u liked this!

The annual Kim Minjae Christmas Eve party is something you dread every year. 

Since your first attendance your freshman year of college, something eventful has always happened at that damn party. There was the time your best friend had to go to the ER because she drunkenly tripped, fell, and broke her nose. There was also the time they left, without you, and you had to Uber back to your apartment all alone at one in the morning. Your friends always dragged you to it, though, for tradition’s sake. Unlike the other parties they tried to force you to go to throughout the semester, you didn’t have the excuse of studying for this one. 

Besides, you think Kim Minjae himself might tear the world apart looking for you. 

You knew of him vaguely every year before this one, obviously. But you’d never actually met him at one of his infamous parties, or in person at all for that matter. However, this semester you wound up in the same production course. And, well, let’s just say you started to understand the hype…

Like when you sat next to each other during lecture a couple weeks into the semester, Minjae peeking over at the doodles you were doing over your notes. 

“Those are cute. Are they supposed to be butterflies?” 

You jumped in your seat, caught off guard by the low voice so close to your ear. Minjae grinned at you, sitting back upright. You nodded in response as to not disrupt your classmates who were actually paying attention to the professor. 

“I’m Minjae, by the way.”

Or when he remembered a comment you made in passing about missing a lecture for a concert you were going to with your friends. 

“Wait, why was my absence last week excused?” You muttered to yourself in confusion, eyes scanning the class roster to see the words ‘Excused Absence’ beside your name under last week’s attendance slot.

“I didn’t want you getting points taken off your grade just ‘cause you wanted to have fun,” Minjae answered with a smile that rivaled the stars. “I asked my mom if she could email a doctor’s note to the professor to get it excused for you.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be unpacked. One; he did all that for you? Two; his mom was a doctor? Three; were you dreaming right now??

“You didn’t have to do that…” You said bashfully, initialing under today’s slot. Minjae took the sheet from you when you were done so he could do the same.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

The rest is kind of history. All it took was a couple smiles and you were cooked. In fact, cooked was an understatement. You would be competing against more than half of the girls at your school for his attention. While you had the advantage of being somewhat friends with him, that didn’t exactly mean he felt the same as you did.

“You worry too much.” 

Your best friend comes up behind you at your mirror, shaking your shoulders. You were currently getting ready for the party, pulling out all the stops. Every year, there’s been a different dress up theme. This year it’s famous holiday characters. Sexy Mrs. Claus anyone?

”There’s just a lot at stake here. My ego, my dignity, everything I’ve ever stood for.” You don’t pause as you say this, ensuring your makeup was absolutely perfect. All of which were true. Your pride would be smothered to bits if he rejects you. Any sense of self respect would fly straight out of the window. And you’d be a failure of a person for ignoring your own morals for him. 

“I know, but you’re stressing yourself out for no reason. I think it’s very obvious that he likes you, too, Y/N.” She tries to rationalize with you. You block her out, because no it is not. You can’t read him or what he’s feeling.

And maybe she was kind of right…

When you spot him, he’s dressed as a sexy Santa Claus. The rest of his friends are dressed as his reindeer, one of them even donning a bright red nose. The concept is actually really cute. Yourself as Mrs. Claus and your friend as Cindy Lou Who does not match at all. Not even just in terms of cohesivity. Usually the roles would be switched. You didn’t like to stand out much. 

“You look hot, go talk to him!” She whisper-yells in your ear, nudging you forward. 

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, fingers laced together behind your back as you nervously make your way across the room. He had just finished taking a shot with his friends when you approached, that sparkle in his pretty boba eyes twinkling even brighter upon seeing you. You have to admit he looks even better up close, the unbuttoned top of the Santa suit revealing a white cutoff t-shirt, doing very little to conceal his lean torso. 

You don’t miss the way he checks you out, dragging his gaze up and down your body. It has the room feeling a little warmer than it was a couple minutes ago. Your fingers stay behind your back, nerves evident by the time you reach him. “Hi.”

Minjae smiles cutely at your shyness, almost cooing at how adorable you are in spite of being dressed so scantily. “Hello, Mrs. Claus.”

“I should’ve known you’d pick the main character for your own party,” you say in reference to his outfit. “I didn’t really think about that when I was picking what I wanted to dress as.”

“Some might call that fate,” he grins something cheeky as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Honestly, I think I’d be a little bummed out if you hadn’t unintentionally matched with me.”

You’re sure you look like a mess, every flirting comment driving you insane. Maybe he talks like this with all the girls he comes across. You wouldn’t be surprised, given the fact that everyone and their mom wants him. You’re not sure if he does it just to entertain people (or himself) and if he does, well, then you’re stupid. That’s why whatever happens tonight between you is such a big deal. Getting heartbroken by someone known for breaking hearts is more embarrassing than anything else.

You open your mouth to say something, but someone beats you to it, a pretty girl dressed like a sexy elf. “Minjae! There you are! I was beginning to think you stood me up at your own party.”

Minjae looks between her and you, giving you a small frown that you might not have noticed if you weren’t so perceptive. The girl latches onto his arm like a leech, eyeing you with something thick and full of disgust. (Or jealousy, you aren’t too sure, actually.)

“I know what this looks like, Y/N, but I—”

“Have fun at your party, Jae. I’ll see you later.” You interrupt him with a tight-lipped smile, bowing before heading back over to your friend. You feel so dumb. This is what you’d been trying to avoid this entire time. Now you have to do the walk of shame back to your friends.

Not only do you feel like one, but you probably look like a loser, too. Your best friend shakes her head at you when you come into view. You’re confused by her actions, because wouldn’t you think she would feel awful for you? As your personal confidant, she should be hugging you and supplying you with endless alcohol so you could get over this.

She grabs you by the shoulders the second you’re within arms’ reach, staring directly into your eyes. “We are not doing this right now.” 

“Doing what?”

“You’re not gonna stand around here at this party and act all mopey just because some random girl who thinks she has a shot with Minjae wedges her way in. You look too good for that. And besides, if you look over there, you’ll see that he doesn’t even care for her. He was excited to see you. Not her. Now, what you are gonna do is pick one of his friends to make him jealous and finally get him away from her.” She says, holding you firmly. 

“I don’t even know any of his friends like that, though.” You glance back to where they’re all gathered around the beer pong table. 

“I wouldn’t recommend Sumin, ‘cause he and his best friend are so in love with each other it’s kinda sickening. I don’t think they realize it though, so I don’t wanna mess with that. I know the rest of them are single,” she squints her eyes as she observes the nine boys. “Maybe Junmin. He’s really nice and he’s super close with Minjae, so he’s perfect for the job.”

“Why do you know so much about their friend group?” You ask curiously. She sounded so well-versed in the lore behind Kim Minjae and his friends. It was a little concerning, honestly. How much free time did she have to learn all of this information?

“Instagram and I are like this,” she crosses her index and middle fingers. “But enough about that. Are you down with the plan?”

You sigh. Were you really about to go through all this trouble for a guy? You guess so, since you nod before you even register that you’re doing it.

She manages to flag down Junmin just as he passes by. His antlers are slightly lopsided, telling you that he’s probably already tipsy. His cheeks are flushed, another indication of his intoxication. This guy had to be a lightweight or something. He smiles warmly at you both.

“What’s up, guys?” He asks, energy equivalent to that of a puppy being offered a treat.

“We have a proposition for you, Mr. Park.” Your best friend answers, to which Junmin just smiles and nods. 

“How can I be of service?”

“Okay, first things first; how does Minjae feel about Y/N?” She pats your shoulder, gesturing to you as if you weren’t an active member in the conversation. He looks at the two of you as if you’d both grown a second head.

“Do you really have to ask that? It’s kinda obvious that he’s obsessed with her.” Junmin snorts. “I’ve never seen him actually interested in someone the way he is with you. He talks about you every opportunity that he gets. You know that meme that’s like, ‘how can I make this about ‘blank’’? That’s Minjae with you.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your lips curl up. Okay, so maybe you did overreact when that girl came between you earlier. You didn’t let Minjae say anything and explain the situation either. She quickly fills him in on the plan she curated. Junmin is a little apprehensive at first, afraid of making his friend mad when he knows how he feels about you. But after some convincing, he agrees.

“What am I even supposed to do?” His hands stay inside of the pockets of the reindeer onesie he was wearing, scared of touching you, too.

”You don’t have to do much. Just stand by her and laugh at the things she says. If he sees you getting cozy, he’ll have no choice but to drop everything he’s doing and put a stop to it. At least, if he likes her as much as you say he does, that’ll be the case.” She shrugs, turning around to join in on the dance circle your other friends had started without another word.

Junmin sighs, and it’s clear that any and all signs of his inebriation have disappeared. This entire ordeal sobered him up pretty fast. You make the mistake of looking over at Minjae again, accidentally making eye contact. He narrows his eyes at you and Junmin, though nothing has happened yet and he’s merely standing beside you. You instinctively nudge his arm subtly.

The boy shakes his head and rolls his eyes playfully. “Of course he’s already jealous. That’s just like him.”

“You seem really close. How long have you been friends?” You ask to continue the small talk. This way, it won’t be completely awkward. He’s doing you a favor by playing along with your charade, you didn’t have to make it worse by being weird about it.

“I’ve known him since we were freshmen in high school,” he shifts his weight onto one foot. “Which is a little bit longer than everyone else, but not too long either.”

“Junmin, that’s eight years. That is a long time.” You laugh at him, pointing out the fact that his attempt at being nonchalant slightly failed. He scratches the back of his neck with a chuckle. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You reach out and hold onto his arm carefully. “Thank you, by the way, for doing this for me. You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves his hand in front of his face. “It was no problem. In a way I’m doing this for Minjae, too. He has the tendency to put his own happiness aside if he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Your mouth resembles an upside down crescent moon as he tells you this. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks that you’re too good for him. You know how everyone calls him a heartbreaker and how everyone says he can’t commit. That’s why he hasn’t made a move. He doesn’t want to disappoint you and he thinks you deserve better than someone with that kind of reputation.” Junmin mirrors your expression for a moment, and you can see how much he cares for his friend. It’s heartwarming actually.

Before you can respond, he’s covering the back of your hand with his own and glancing behind you to indicate that Minjae was coming. The raven haired male stands between you, scanning the scene for anything that would stand out to him. You’re sure there’s hearts in your eyes as you stare at him, even with the fake beard on his face. 

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Minjae comments after a bit of silence, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We don’t,” your hand falls to your side. “Not well, at least. But we’re friends now, right Junmin?” 

“Yeah, we are,” he turns to his friend with a smile. “I’ll catch you later, Y/N, it was nice meeting you.”

As soon as Junmin is out of ear shot, Minjae is turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. You peer at him innocently, but you know he’s caught you red handed. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” You act coy, messing with the fluffy hem of your skirt. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he glances away from you with a small laugh. 

“You’re really something special, you know that, Y/N?” His voice is only loud enough that the two of you can hear what he says, but nobody else. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.”

Minjae doesn’t hesitate to lean into you, pressing his lips to yours softly. It’s perfect, the most perfect kiss in the whole world despite the fact that he’s wearing a fake beard. It tickles your face as he tilts his head. Your lips tingle everywhere that comes into contact with his, sparks running through your veins like electrical currents. Now that you’re certain that you’re on the same page, you want so much more than just this. You need him, all of him. 

But then you realize where you are. Your cheeks warm up impossibly hot, your nose cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. Minjae can’t help but laugh at how cute you are. Truly, he hit the jackpot with you. You checked just about every box on his list, the missing puzzle piece he had been looking for all along. 

Had he written a Christmas list this year, like he’d done so many times as a kid, you’d be right at the top. 

“Should we go upstairs?” He whispers into your ear. You nod frantically, desperate to be alone with him for the first time, well, ever. He takes your hand into his and guides you through the house and up the stairs. The hallway is long and it feels like forever has passed by the time you make it into his room. 

There’s posters of different bands on the walls, a keyboard and a guitar in one corner, and a desk with a laptop and a smaller mixing board in the other. The room is neat, but not too neat, and somehow exactly what you’d imagine Kim Minjae’s room to look like. You take it in all at once, allowing him to pull you onto his lap on his bed, a knee on either side of his thighs. He’s since ditched the beard. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever go for a guy like me.” He confesses, hands on your hips. His thumbs rub circles into your exposed midriff. You cup his face with a pout on your lips. 

“Why do you say that?”

“I was told I’m not really your type,” he frowns, but then his mouth is attaching to your lower stomach. “That you usually don’t go for guys who break girls’ hearts.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers creep beneath your skirt, tugging at the thin material of your lacy panties. “S-Sometimes, I make e-exceptions.”

You feel rather than see the curve of his smile, gasping when he drags your underwear down your legs. Your head is spinning and you’re overwhelmed by everything going on in the best way possible. Minjae’s hand disappears under your skirt again, his fingers teasing where you need him most. A whine escapes you when his thumb massages your clit, slowly and agonizingly. Your grip moves from his face to his shoulders, nails digging into the material of his Santa suit. 

His index and middle fingers don’t waste time slipping inside of you, forcing a louder moan out of you. The position the two of you are in makes it easier for him to curl them, brushing along that sensitive spot deep in your pussy. He keeps at it, alternating between calculated pumps into your cunt and showing attention to your already sensitive clit. 

“You’re so warm around my fingers, angel,” he mumbles into your skin, mouth still connected to your abdomen. “I bet you taste so sweet, too.”

You whine once more, riding his fingers like your life depended on it. It’s not enough, however. It’s not enough to satiate the hunger and the desire burning behind your chest. You needed to become one being with him. He pauses, looking up at you with eyes resembling pools of tar, unbridled affection swimming in them. 

“What is it?” You ask breathlessly, lips subconsciously pouting at him. 

“Can you…” He trails off, looking for the words. “Can you ride my face?”

You gawk at him, not at all expecting that to come out of his mouth. It’s not that you were this pure virgin who’s never done anything before, but Minjae was more experienced than you in multiple departments. And that happened to be one of them. You’ve never sat on anyone’s face before, and you’re sure it shows because he coos at you. 

“I’ve never… You know…” Your bashfulness has him growing harder beneath you and he can’t stop the groan he lets out after. 

“That’s okay, I’ll be your first,” he reassures you, rubbing up and down your sides comfortingly. “And hopefully your last.”

You smile widely, leaning down to kiss him. There’s more than lust translated into the way you slot your lips with his. You could see yourself falling in love with Kim Minjae and sharing a future with him. A future where you go out on dinner dates and he picks you up at your apartment, staring at you in awe when you get all dolled up for him. One where you take late night drives just because you want to, his arm outstretched across the center console to hold your hand. And maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party. Maybe you’ll wake up on Christmas morning to a kiss on the forehead and a tree filled with gifts for each other. 

Minjae lays with his head on the pillows after he shrugs off the jacket of his Santa suit while you shimmy out of your skirt, pulling you up so you’re straddling his face. His arms hook around your thighs just as you unzip your top and discard it somewhere behind you. 

“Just relax, angel,” he leaves a kiss on your inner thigh. “Hold onto the headboard if you need to.”

You do as he says, shutting your eyes when you feel his breath on your pussy. First, he kisses your clit experimentally. The moan that comes out of you encourages him to continue, his tongue kitten licking the expanse of it. It doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm, the blunt edges of his nails pressing into your thighs. 

Your forehead falls to the headboard, sounds you’ve never made before bursting from your chest. You try to watch him between your legs, but the pleasure is so overwhelming you can’t keep your eyes open. His nose bumps your clit repeatedly, and somehow that’s what has you nearing your end. 

Minjae releases one of your thighs, his thumb applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves as he fucks you open on his tongue. Loud is an understatement to describe your volume. You’re thankful that there’s an entire party going on downstairs, because despite being so shy earlier, there’s nothing shy about you right now. And he’s eating it up. 

“I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he stops, pushing down his pants and his underwear. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

“Minjae… I don’t think I can last any longer.” You whine, your cunt contracting around nothing. He kisses it one more time before sitting up and helping you back into his lap. He reaches into the drawer of his bedside table, grabbing a condom and quickly unwrapping it so he could slip it on. The time between riding his face and hovering over his dick is a blur, your whole self delirious from how good everything feels. 

“There, there, angel,” he murmurs into your collarbone as you sink onto his cock, both of you moaning at the contact. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He knows you’re tired, so he does all the work for you. His grip stays on your hips, fucking up into you with desperation. He was already stiff and throbbing with need just from eating you out. You’re both searching for sweet release, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders, then his arms, then tangling in his hair. 

His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, and you’re starting to think he has an oral fixation, the orifice always connected to some part of your body or another. Your fingers stay in his hair, attempting to bounce on his dick and meet him halfway. You’re exhausted, though, and it barely does anything to help Minjae, who’s doing everything. 

You were so close when he decided to change positions, so it didn’t take a lot to get you back to that point. Your pussy tightens around him, and he knows that your orgasm is near. He swipes his ring and middle fingers on your clit, the added stimulation finally bringing you to the edge of bliss. It feels like you’re on cloud nine, the fatigue evaporating from your bones. 

Minjae is right there with you, gritting his teeth so he can take care of you first. “Where— shit— where do you want me, angel?”

“Inside,” your voice is hoarse and seeping with sleepiness. “Cum inside me, Jae.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice, finishing into the condom with a low groan. You rock in his lap to ride out both of your highs, until eventually he slides out of you and you collapse into his chest. Minjae laughs, pulling back the covers on his bed so you could be warm and comfortable. 

“Y/N?” He whispers softly, in case you might’ve already fallen asleep. You hum in response, stirring so you could look up at him. He thinks he could fall in love with you. “I just want you to know that I mean it when I say things are different with you. I wanna see where this road takes us.”

“I believe you,” you smile, something so pretty like the star on top of his Christmas tree and so cozy like a mug of hot cocoa. “And I want that, too. My feelings for you are kinda scary, Kim Minjae.”

“I could say the same about mine for you.” His expression is the spitting image of one of your dreams. You were in this exact scenario, except instead of confessing to each other for the first time, you had been together for years and this was just a typical morning ritual for you. 

“Just promise me one thing?” You trace random things into his abdomen, blinking up at him. 

“Anything.” He nods, recognizing the seriousness in your gaze. 

“Don’t break my heart.” The way you ask him this, looking at him like he personally painted sunsets, he would burn bridges for you. 

“I wasn’t ever planning on it.”

© 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏.